Tearing at the Fabric

Of the space-time continuum

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Just got my colposcopy appointment. Dated 28/7/22. Arrived today. 8/8/22. Appointment is for 16/8/22.


You have to use oestrogen cream for 14 days before your appointment. FFS. Fucked already.

Obviously they saw my history and bumped me up from the six months originally mooted.

Cancer recurring is really cool fun. Thanks Norm. You’re the fucking best.

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Don’t listen!

To those damn butterflies. They lie. All that excitement and the awesomely addictive flappy feelings…it’s a trap!

I fell fast and hard for Roger. I resisted.

But poorly.

I was bowled over. Swept off my feet. I had never even had sex with anyone before, thinking I was smart. Selective. They needed to be ABSOLUTELY amazing. Trustworthy.

I needed to be madly in love, and madly loved. I needed to be 100% certain that this man would never, never, never hurt me.


I moved in with him after knowing him just five weeks! FFS.

I don’t move in for fun. Moving in together is my marriage. I was never going to marry, I’d decided that after seeing my mother’s utter and complete heartbreak at the end of my parents’ marriage.

Drown those fluttery mothafuckas!

Drown them real good…

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Hit the north

We drove up yesterday morning. After I did the rounds at 6am.

The last heifer to calve had a pair of monstrous feet protruding.

I moved them in the dark, and went back to the barn, to get my calving chains. This was probably gonna be a vet job. I no longer own a calving pulley.

I was right.

Lovely girly walked quietly from my furthest paddock to my wee portable set of yards. I called the vet, who had a half hour drive to mine. I fed and prepped for the vet’s arrival with a cup of tea.

I had a nail appointment at 7.30am, but called my friend, the nail tech, and let her know not to leave early from her home in a nearby town, I wasn’t going to make it, and we needed to hit the road by 9am.

The lovely vet who synchronised these heifers was on call. She gave a quick epidural and was thrilled when the calf was born alive. Said she’d had a shit week dragging out dead calves.

Wee, new mumma was up nicely, licking him clean. These girls are lovely and quiet, I scratch them every day in the paddock, and she was able to give her a jab of butocin a few minutes later, standing freely in the yard. Good girl. Calf got a steroid jab to help his swelling subside.

I was worried about leaving, knowing his head and tongue were swollen. Hoping he’d be able to latch on soon. I left my inexperienced brother in charge! He worked from home in the afternoon, checking on them, ensuring he had a feed. So grateful. I got pictures and updates of him, his slightly dripping navel, the heifer’s sucked udder, all day, postpartum care, second to none! He’s up at at ’em this morning, slightly retracted in one front leg, but walking, clean, warm and full tummy.

Only my 4 year old cow to calve. The maiden heifers all safe and sound. Phew! Later that afternoon, my cow, Edwina, popped a beautiful heifer out, that was leaping around only an hour later!

Anyway, we got on the road at 9.15am, which was awesome. With the new expressway, we were in South Auckland (Takanini off ramp) only an hour later!

We had a pretty good run with traffic, stopping at Wellsford for a bite to eat, and arriving in Kerikeri around 2.15pm. I did a bit of new business admin while BG drove. A beautiful day to drive to the sunny north!

We checked into our accommodation, rehydrated and stretched our legs with a wee bushwalk, the track behind our cute and cosy studio unit. Then we headed into the town centre to BG’s friends’ Mandy and Paul’s new clinic.

It’s utterly gorgeous. Inside and out.

They’ve been in operation just over a year, and we came up to pick their brains about fitout, etc. Mandy is a new star in the franchise. A flight attendant her whole career, she made the decision at the beginning of the pandemic to find another source of income. They sold their home, their rental property, and moved up here. They threw everything they have at this, and are renting a lovely place by the sea with their two teenage girls. Paul has backed her all the way.

Just as BG is backing me. It was him that insisted on us coming up here this weekend.

We did a thorough clinic tour, talked about how much autonomy you’re allowed (not much, but more than we first thought) and where we can save money, and still get a great result (moulded skirting boards, anyone?)

Then, we headed down to a bar and restaurant by The Stone Store. Had one too many wines and a bar snack, back here to bed! My head is a little dusty this morning. Anyway, Mandy wants to take me on a hike to one of the local waterfalls soon. Boys are playing golf. I’m heading out to the must visit local chocolate factory to purchase a few treats, and some nearby local olive oil and visit the wee factory nearby that makes a really good line of natural skincare, before I meet up with her. Oh! And the fabulous markets!

What lovely people. And how damn lucky am I that BG has friends in this business, to help me on this journey?

Will try to remember to take some pictures!

All this time, my wee girl is sending me gorgeous Snapchat’s from Iceland. What a lovely life we have.

And Roger chose to throw this fabulous future away, for his beige mouse. She better be worth it!

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Didn’t make the final edit

There is a lot of grief involved with being cast aside, out of your own life.

So much grief, there are not words to describe it.

Today, I read this comment, that doesn’t explain the grief, but certainly describes my lived reality.

“My ex was a filmmaker and I came to see that basically he felt the same way about life as he did one of his movies. He’s the director, calling the shots, and he casts people in the various roles in his life. But when someone doesn’t say their lines correctly or perform their role to his satisfaction, he simply re-casts them with someone who will. His life continues on unchanged, much like a soap opera where they replace an actor and no one ever comments on it. The story just goes on as usual.

So I was in the “wife” role, but when I didn’t play it right (extra frustratingly, none of us are ever given the script) he simply replaced me with OW, who auditioned very hard for my role. I’m sure if he had lived, he would have eventually gotten tired of her “mistakes” (i.e. being a human individual and not his robot) and re-cast her as well, on and on ad infinitum.

I think that’s also a reason why these people so often come back to their exes. They honestly don’t see anything outside of themselves, so it doesn’t occur to them that people have their own lives. Clearly the ex is simply waiting for a callback to reprise his or her role.””

I was recast.

My role wasn’t real, despite me thinking, planning, believing, loving, that this was my life.


That my one true love felt absolutely the same about me.

And some of the flying monkeys, bizarrely, just accepted the recast “wifey” in his soap opera, and didn’t mention a thing. The agony of knowing that “our” friends, many of thirty years, some my lifeling “friends,” were going to dinner with him and that whore, just a week or so after I even knew of her existence, and was still sharing a bed with him, sure he’d come to his senses, was a next level mindfuck! They really came out of the woodwork! Rubber neckers. What did he replace Paula with??? Oh that. Okay. Nothing to see here….fucking crazy!

I know now that I was just being directed. He has others, who cane before (during, after..) me that he feels the same way about.

I wasn’t ever special. I’m just somebody he used to know.

Whereas he was the love of my life. (Yeah, except he wasn’t. I don’t get to have one of those, apparently.)

The same script these guys all use.

Idolise. Devalue. Discard.

I’m on the scrap heap of his life. Used. Rubbish. Of zero value.

The rebuilding is lifelong. Trying to revalue yourself. I don’t know if you ever truly get there really.

The scars are so very deep and painful.

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Fakebook and friends

So, when BG waa chatting with me last night, he mentioned that Ingrid – sitting over from him – said my cow and calf videos were super cute.

And he asked how come he hadn’t seen any videos? I had just posted a reel on Instagram and earlier, a story on Facebook of the calves chilling out with their mums in my house paddock.

I just replied, “oh, well, we’re not friends on Facebook.”

No drama. Just that’s where the videos she saw were.

He fairly sarcastically went, “oh, that’s telling me, isn’t it.”


No, it wasn’t.

I just stated a fact.

I kinda like that neither of us have “friended” each other on social media. It ensures we are private about “us.” I don’t feel it is a slight. I know he said near the beginning that it’s not really his thing. I also know he has nothing to hide there as we have mutual friends, including my daughter. It seemed a bit strange that he felt I was having a dig at this status when I have never requested we be friends there, nor complained/mentioned it.

Might need to talk about this… I’m not a needy, insecure girlfriend. Well, any insecurities I have these days are not about him. All Roger.

Social medua is all well and good, if used with discretion, with your tongue firmly planted in your cheek. I like to keep up with friends and family this way. But it’s not the measure of the success, or other, of our relationships. I’ve seen plenty of Fakebook posts by betrayed spouses raving or boasting about their relationship/posting lovey dovey pictures, to put any weight on what is peesented online.

Hey, I was madly, deeply, passionately in love, for over thirty years, with a man who posted online that he was single, to attract affair partners. What the hell does the internet know anyway?



Sappy, gooey moment.

Is there actually anything nicer than being called beautiful? By a nice man, who says he loves you?

Even if you’re 54 and probably differently beautiful from your younger self, from his other (far more, maybe sometimes less, I dunno) beautiful ex girlfriends?

He doesn’t love bomb. So it feels okay. Like maybe he actually means it.

But, what do I knuw? I got fucked over. Fucked up. Just fucked. By the last man who said (pretended) he loved me.

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I don’t know how to write this

BG is with his mates tonight. The ones who have made the tough, but brave decision to sell their dream home.

Their forever home.

In order to exit a declining business, with their equity and investments intact. To employ other income streams, in his field, in hers, and to capitalise on their town’s magnificent location by offering accommodation in a house they have looked at and hope to buy.

He video chatted with me, without me knowing he was there, which started out a bit awkwardly as I had a freshly showered dog on me, lol.

I have FOMO. Wish I was there.

So badly.

But we have committed to having them come stay here during open home weekends and especially the night of the auction. It is happening in my neighbouring city. We will celebrate (or commiserate) hard.

I’m so proud of them.


He’s funny AF!

BG asked my permission to go to an Old Boys’ gig next weekend, earlier today.

When I was able to breathe again after laughing so hard, I replied.

I can’t get used to this stuff. Rog never “asked permission.”

And we are adults. Having a conversation is good, but most often I was just told, as he walked out the door. Made it really easy to cheat, that’s for sure.

So it is so funny to me, that BG checks in this way. A man who has rarely been partnered. He thinks those are the rules!

Much as I laugh, it is nice to be considered. Novel, in fact. And I know he is very thoughtful and mostly really careful with my heart.

Just had to share my giggle.


So clever

It’s the ultimate mindfuck. You literally think you might be going insane.

So sneaky.

So clever.

To have someone who loves you very deeply convinced of how fabulous you are, when you’re really a shitty person.

And if my attention was elsewhere, he’d do something hurtful. Break something. Find a new woman to fuck. That kind of thing….

I’m fairly convinced he wasn’t even aware he did this. During our counselling, I started to realise how his behaviours were never examined by him. He never thought, “why did I do that,” about anything. Just quite selfish. I did it because it felt good.