Tearing at the Fabric

Of the space-time continuum


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Today’s the day!

Made it. To today. Flying this afternoon.

But I left home yesterday morning, in tears as my little dog knew I was leaving and snuggle in tight. Lord am I grateful for her this past year! I realised just how important she has been to me when I felt the loss of her company for a month! Was trying to post a photo of her at my workplace “helping” my colleague from Friday, here…

But poor internet is conspiring against me…Will try again later 😭

Yass! It finally worked, lol!

Picked up grumpy youngest daughter. Who was in a mood. Great. She came right, but it isn’t easy dealing with her anxiety and health issues lately.

We were leaving early, to meet her friend and her family up in the big smoke for lunch and to go see Cirque du Soleil’s matinee performance of Kooza for her 20th birthday.

A large, closeknit family, I was surprised, and honoured to find D and I were the only non family members invited. Naw. How lovely. I have been to a few things with them, and driven the kids around to music festivals, had them stay with me, etc. The show was magnificent.

D then dropped me at my fab friend, Anabel’s house. She wasn’t home, but invited me to their friends’ home for drinks.

Drinks indeed! Turned into lasagne dinner for 9. Beautiful homegrown insalata caprese, rocket, fig, walnut, fresh goats’ curd salad. Mmmmmm. Just what I needed.

Embarrassingly, later in the night, Anabel asked me to share my ‘amazing academic story” with the girls…the boys had headed to the pool room.

Ugh.

I found that weird. I am a three time university drop out. Who finally got shit done. Yeah. I did it well, acing an undergrad degree with a double major, in just two years, topping one department, second in the other. A Masters on full scholarship, with first class honours, just co-authored a book chapter. All while working, doing books for our business and raising three kids.

I suppose it does look quite “successful” to others. I am proud of it, but I lost the love of my life at the end of all that epically hard work, to a woman who refused to back away when I told her clearly that he was not single.

Of course, I didn’t say any of that last part. Just said I did this thing, and would like to one day do a PhD. But not yet.

They asked why, and I just said I have had a tough year or so, and was just finding my feet financially, etc.

Anabel jumped in and told the tale of me handing in that fucking achingly awesome thesis, to have my darling of thirty years announce he was leaving me, selling our business and home, for a widow he’d met online a few weeks earlier.

Yuck. Cringe. They all dropped their mouths open in horror (All long term married with kids) and said, WTAF???? What an arsehole!

I brushed it off, no one needs Debbie Downer. They all said, he’s a loser, look at you go!

I know. Wish I felt it as well as I act it in public! But I did well. Was a truly lovely night, with some lovely people.

On that note, D shared a thing her doctor said to her as she left her surgery last week that made her laugh. “You will get through this.” Which she said was very kind, but seemed unnecessary. Like the “thing you have to say” to patients with anxiety or depression.

And it took me straight back to the first weeks after I’ve Met Someone Else. I was suffering intense panic attacks, and went to my GP. There was a great young locum in his place, and she prescribed me some short term anti-anxiety meds, and her very vehement comment was, “You won’t need these for long. You’re waaay too good for him anyway. You have already proven your worth, worked so hard, done hard things, just wait and see. You’re gonna fly, and leave him in the dirt.”

Yeah, okay lady, lol.

It made me laugh, and cringe all at once. How could she know? She didn’t know Roger, or myself. It’s a platitude. That you tell someone who has been fucked over. But, the words were well intentioned. And I didn’t use the meds more than three or four times.

So, not flying yet. But literally doing so this afternoon. Following through on my plans for more travel as I got older. The plans we had to do this together. I can’t have him with me, but I can do the best I can for me. And this trip was planned with and by my old high school bestie to try to help me mend my totally shattered heart.

On a cringey side note, I am concerned about my (self) “love” life for this upcoming month! What’s a straight girl, twin sharing with another woman supposed to do without some toys and privacy??? πŸ˜œπŸ˜πŸ˜›πŸ˜±πŸ˜³πŸ€’

Ah well, hardships, lol. Will do my best. It’s going to be epic.


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“Oh no he di’int”

Mmmmm. What can I say about this morning? I woke up feeling okay (that’s rare) as I knew I had done a good job on two assignments this week (one result back already A+, yuss!) and one pass job on …… well, you know, I DID just post about it last night. And I have nothing due for four whole weeks! (Semester break after the end of next week – woohoo!) Mr Suck-The-Life-Out-Of-Me fucked my morning. As I was posting last night, he was peering over my shoulder. That was weird. And uncomfortable. He read the beginning of the post.

Whatever.

Then this morning, I was up at 4.00am. (I haven’t been sleeping well again, you wanna set up camp in the sleeping bags under my eyes?) And I got up and had a cup of tea, and then fed the orphaned lamb, very originally named, “Lambie.” (Usually I have several awaiting foster mums, and they all get names, this one has been a loner for a while, and I never got around to naming him, poor little sausage.) Then he came in, and started a conversation.Β 

It didn’t go well.

He has been reading my blog – so (raspberry noises here, flipping the bird – is that American enough?) to you, dickhead – and never told me. Β What a fucktard. I mean, I don’t care that he reads, but really, why not tell me? He has obviously learned nothing.

Then he offered his fabulous, important opinion.Β 

Awesome.

He told me I am a bitter person, and that I am sharing far too much of other people’s lives and being far too judgemental. That I need to stop.Β 

Yeah, because he didn’t share anything, Mr-Fucking-Perfect. If he thinks I am such a chump that I don’t know that although I was hardly topic-of-the-day while he filled her right up with his genitalia and semen, my life was “shared” with a whore. And I had no say. I had no way of protecting myself, my image, my privacy, my body, my health, my children’s future. He shared me with her, even if he thinks he didn’t. I admit it, I fucking cried. Hope he was happy with his result, more fucking tears from his push button crier these days. Good job. You’re a champion.

So, Nephila, I am now a vitriolic bitch, are you proud of me? I fucking am.Β 

Of course I am “bitter” – that is the whole fucking point of blogging. To bleed the poison out. And if, as he insisted (he of the “how do you turn on the computer” persuasion) the people involved find my blog? #Whogivesafuck!!!


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New rules

A man I live with read a post on my blog yesterday. He told me about it. He asked that I change names/use pseudonyms. I think that is reasonable. I will slowly go over old posts and edit these. Bear with me as I do if you are looking at anything in the dusty old archives!

I must admit, when I first started blogging, I asked those questions of myself. I guess I came to the conclusion that I didn’t care. I wasn’t telling anything but MY truth, so where was the harm in using real names. I guess I have changed my mind – rather, had it changed for me. But I am okay with that.

I live in a small country. I haven’t come across a lot of people blogging about infidelity in the way I do, from here – that is not to say that we don’t have infidelity – good lord no! I guess I had time on my side, all of the hurtful stuff happened six years ago so I doubted any “real” people involved would stumble across my still-bleeding internet corpse. But, maybe he has a point.

So I am going with it.

I haven’t decided on how I will label the players yet, but as soon as I do I will make the changes. I won’t change me though, I am still Paula, at least I was last time I looked in the mirror (and into my soul ooooOOOOOOoooooh!)

That man is a technophobe. So much so that he doesn’t, and never has, used social media. I never thought he wouldn’t know what a blog contained. He knows I have read these for a long time, and he also knew that I eventually started one. He didn’t get that it would be quite graphic (despite me telling him) and that is is basically a version of a twelvie’s Dear Diary. I think he was a little shocked – and probably a little hurt – although he denied this. But why else ask if I could change names? I am doing this out of respect for him. Not because I feel bullied into it, or that I did something wrong in using my truth, including names. In fact, as I type this, the only name I think I will change is his. Leanne deserves to be named and shamed – as if, lol! I have no problem if anyone thinks they know who these characters are. I am not ashamed of the role I have played in any of this.

So, there you are. Maybe I still “rescue” him. I don’t think I do. I think I am just respecting his right to privacy. Even though he didn’t respect my rights to good sexual health, love, trust and a lifetime partnership based on that love and trust.

(Oooooohhh, who made that snarky last bite???)