Thursday, 5 November 2015

Its End of The World as We Know It....

Good title for a song there!

Well I've been away a long time, not a squeak of a blog in over 3 years. And such a lot has changed.

I've changed home.
I've changed jobs (3 times)
And I've changed man.

All of these changes have been really good, positive and happy things. And each one is a story in itself, so much to tell, too much to cover in one random blog.
But there's another change that has blown my new world askew. I've lost my darling Daddy.

The last time I was blogging it was mere months after my Mum had died and I wrote of my grief and loss and sadness that I could no longer share my time with her. I wrote of having to build a closer relationship with my now widowed Dad and my dread that one day I would lose him too.

Well that day came.

My Dad was 91 years old. He had reshaped his life after losing Mum 4 and half years ago, re-invented himself. He had felt lost after having Mum to care for, felt he had no purpose, no role. So he made himself a new one.

I consider myself utterly blessed that I had over 4 years to get to know him better. He was enriching to be with, his mind active and enquiring. He shared stories, history and information with us all. His thoughts were always for others, small things like popping a light on so your room would be lit when you came in and saving a newspaper article he had read to show you when you visited because it was about something that would be of interest. He was articulate and full of mischief and humour.

He had an extraordinary order to his life. He rose early every morning without fail and by 8am was washed, shaved and dressed and eating his porridge breakfast. He would then wash up his pots and put on his 'work' clothes and set to it. He planted, potted, repaired, painted, modernised, polished, varnished, invented and mowed. His home and his garden were his work, his projects, his list of to-do's. It gave him purpose, a reason to get up each day and a role.

He cooked, cleaned, shopped, gardened and decorated. Only last summer he was up on the roof of the house with my New Husband supervising him while he did some minor repairs (so minor they didn't really require doing but as he's been up himself previously had spotted it!) My Dad was incredible.

And now he is gone. I miss him every single day.

Sunday, 5 June 2011

Utter Fool

I am an utter fool. There is no life after love. What a idiot I was to ever think there could be.
I have fucked up what little there was between me and my husband. I don't know why the hell we are still together, I care about him but don't love him, I have concern for him but am not in love with him. 
Whereas once I convinced myself he still loved me and the depth of this love kept him with me I now consider it more likely to be a combination of ease, fear and a determination not to let go of the house. We have little respect for each other, we share very few common interests and exchange nothing more than small talk as conversation. In short it feels a fucking mess. 

Now I have just spent 2 nights down on the south coast, first day a lovely loved-up lunch with K, the second day we spent partly in bed and partly by the seaside, fish n chips on the beach, a quick paddle in icy sea and a browse around an eclectic English seaside town. I had a wondrous time. I was as high as a kite, my world felt multi-coloured and magical, I felt childlike in my thrill of it all. I felt in love. 

I drove home yesterday and admittedly I knew he had a busy day of plans, but contact has been sparse. Brief. Distracted. 
I feel abandoned. Whenever we have had a lot of contact or a much anticipated liaison (as well as the highs of sexual play) there comes the inevitable down, the loss, the plummet but we nearly always managed to bolster each other along and share it. Today I feel at a loss, I have no one to share it with, I have no one to talk to about it, and if the truth be told I am so angry that he can just let me wander back and seemingly forget me. 

I feel very very low today.....roll on next weekend when I am off to Portugal with my girlfriends and at this very moment in time I am contemplating not taking my phone and fuck them all! But of course we all know I won't......

Sunday, 29 May 2011

The Shifting Sands

Something has changed, a little something died, a small alteration in the dynamics of love. And its sad.
I am sure it has and does happen to many. Its happened to my marriage. It's happened to the relationships of friends. It's happened I'm sure to K's marriage.
Something shifts and alters and is never quite the same again.

Except I never imagined it would happen to us. To me and K, yet it has, at least for me.

When we met and fell in love it felt so real, like it was meant to be, so completely pure and honest. Which of course sounds mad when it was an extra-marital affair tangled with all the deceit and secrecy that liaisons like that are reknowned for. And yet it felt perfect.

We both knew the dangers, the risks, the reality and yet it was so sure and strong and all-enveloping that 'Us' felt the reality and the rest of our worlds felt like extras on a film set. He promised not to break my heart, he promised to take the best care of it.

We both fell apart and my heart plummeted and shattered into a million pieces and now glued back together it has a few more scars on there to add to the ones from my youth, weaving intricate patterns over its damaged surface.

Once again K and I are embroiled in our love. I'm not sure what has changed for him in the almost 2 years we were apart but whatever it was he now seems to have decided he can still see me, meet me, love me, make love to me.
Our situations are very different, he is still determined to keep his marriage and family intact.(as you can imagine I have many opinions on that but it is not my business how he conducts his marriage so I don't voice them)
For my part my marriage is still the shambles it has been for a long while, before K ever came on the scene and I stay out of duty and ease. I think its the same for my husband, I am not totally sure he loves me any longer either but we plod along.





But what I have noticed for me are barriers, something I had never felt I needed with K before, I need a 'bullshit' filter. As yet it hasn't caught anything lol, but I'm very aware its there.
I read his words to me and I love them! They are the highlights of my days....but I am also extremely aware I read them on several levels, as a lover, as a once-discarded other-woman and as a realist. I read them with love, but also cynicism and suspicion. I sometimes feel myself being drawn into and sucked up by all the wonder of our love.....and then find myself rigid, heels dug in fiercely, rope around the waist....anything to stop me spiraling into the depths of it and losing myself again.

Perhaps this is a healthier and safer way to be in love. But somehow it feels a sad way, once you have experienced the naive unconditional feeling of that first madness of being in love....but hey...I am still enjoying the wondrous sensations and the day that stops I will have to armour myself against the excruciating pain once more   

Friday, 13 May 2011

Damn you Disney

I haven't blogged for such a long time again, so many thoughts, feelings, emotions, concerns all whirling in this damn head of mine and yet for some odd reason I have felt unable or unwilling to expose them to the scrutiny of the World Wide Weird.


I miss my Mum on a daily basis. Although my home life is calm I have given up hoping that things will become what I once dreamed of and we mooch along and live our funny old lives occasionally being vaguely 'coupley' but never intimate. I am busy and still enjoying work and am getting satisfaction from the role I now do. I have my annual girlie holiday coming up in 4 weeks and despite still being a heifer and failing miserably in motivating myself to lose weight I am looking forward to it. I have used some of the money my Mum left me to make some improvements to my home and have a nest egg for a rainy day for the first time in a very long while. And K and I have re-established a relationship of sorts which has once again become physical and includes daily contact and many 'I love yous' 


This last development has brought much pleasure, joy, laughter, giggles and grins to my world. It once again creates heart-fluttering moments and butterflies. It means chatter and friendship, fluffy flossy loved up bits and of course the inevitable questioning in the "are you truly a mad masochistic self loathing nutter who is willing to risk her heart and sanity once again???" sort of vein.


Some days I want to accuse him of being selfish, a bastard that only thinks of himself and his own satisfaction needs and happiness. But he isn't. Not truly. He always appears to be very concerned with my thoughts and feelings and whether I am happy. And yet even typing that the thought popped into my head that maybe he does that so I think he isn't a selfish bastard that is only concerned for himself. But he is not the sort of man that is like that.....he doesn't fit the character profile....and although I guess all mistresses (for thats what I am) say that, anyone who knows K in real life would agree I'm sure LOL

I feel doubt for the first time ever between us, I see us for what we are. We're changing....and I hate it. I used to be so sure of us.



When we first met he was unhappy at home. He had unsatisfactory 'high day and holiday sex' with wife. He was sure he wasn't in love with her. Now he tells me he is happy at home. That sex is infrequent but I assume ok. He now does say he loves her. So what I am for? Ego? The excitement? The danger of being caught? The drama of it all? I just don't know......

He tells me he adores me, he says he wishes he'd met me earlier in his life. He tells me I am his best friend. He tells me he missed me so and that although he knows he can live without me - indeed he did for almost 2 years (I have resisted pointing out to him that email and text contact throughout those almost 2 years hardly equates to living without someone. I certainly don't consider my life was lived 'without' him during that time we were 'over') he doesn't want to lose me from his life. But I also know, and he has always been very clear on this, that he cannot and will not break up his family. In truth, whereas I once would have sacrificed everything for a chance to be with him, even if he was free now I wouldn't leave my home city in haste. I think the only thing I wish we could have had  was/is a chance to have seen whether in 'real-life' we could have been something. Does that make sense?


I have made a point on several occasions of saying to him my favourite line, said to friends who find themselves in dubious situations...."Don't risk what you are not willing to lose".......And yet still here he still is, here we both are, embarked once again on an extra-marital affair. 


At times I feel all sensible and think end it, stop it, finish it. But we tried that. We've been there and got the tear stained tshirt. We weren't very good at that and I don't think it would be different this time. And if I did what would I have then? An empty marriage, no lover, no sex life and would have lost someone I enjoy having contact with....


At other times I feel more fatalistic. I am in a very odd situation anyway, my marriage is very damaged,disjointed and feel irreparable . It may not survive whether I see K or not. He is risking far more than I am, it is he who is living the lie not me. If he is willing to risk all that he tells me he holds so dear, surely that's his concern not mine.


And then there are moments when I think, give yourself a break, enjoy it for what it is, take what is on offer and indulge yourself. Don't involve yourself with his world or lies or risk taking.


So why is it sometimes I am filled with doubt and feel so sad?
Aren't we just both selfish and eating our cake so to speak? Is it because in my nature I long to be given and give my very all, I long to have someone who is the centre of my world and I am theirs? Have I grown up reading too many fairy stories with happy endings? Life really isn't like Disney.......





Tuesday, 22 February 2011

I'm An Armadillo

I am having to put my armor back in place. I had got rather good at it, this self defense malarkey. Of course it means I don't get to feel much at all....not even the nice stuff. Have you ever tried stroking an armadillo, they don't respond much....not like a cat, the purrs and mews and pushes itself against your hand desperate for that extra attention, the tickle behind the ear, the gentle tummy rub. No, armadillos don't react much at all, the tough shell preventing the touch from reaching them.



But they don't get hurt as often, can't feel the sticks and stones thrown, defended against a vicious kick or jab.
I'd rather be a cat. But, for now at least, I am an armadillo.............

Sunday, 20 February 2011

A Thin Veneer

I am in trouble. Biiiiiig trouble.

I am terrified I am spiraling down a rather long dark path again. It's occurred to me a number of times of the last few weeks. And there is no one thing that I can pinpoint that has made me feel this way, I can only admit to a number of things that have made me feel fragile, scared, raw, numb and out of control.

I miss my Mum in a way I never thought I would. I always knew that I would miss her physical presence, her smile, her hugs, her 'I love you's. I accepted that her home would feel strange without her in it. That I would expect to feel her there when I visited. In fact I don't that much. My parents home is always pristine, it is one of those homes that you could invite people to view at any given moment, there were never magazines, books, knitting or random things lying about, nothing for me to physically miss. All things had a proper place, all things were put away and stored where they were supposed to be. It still does. So yes, I miss her and yes I miss her sitting in her place at the kitchen table or being in her favourite chair in the lounge or the sight of her sitting up in bed when I pass her room. But more than that I MISS her. Do any of you out there know what I mean?



I simply haven't got a Mum any more. Oh I know I have, she will always be my Mum, that death doesn't steal the relationship or love we shared. But the here and now is that I am Mum-less. And there are times it completely floors me how much I ache for her, what I wouldn't give to have just one more day with her.

Add to that my Dad. I love my Dad but we have shared an odd relationship over the years. I have never felt quite good enough, a bit of a disappointment to him, so many things that over the years I have felt he hasn't approved of. I can never remember him telling me he loves me.



Sex at the age of 16.
Leaving home and 'carrying on' out on the town at 21.
Marrying a black man at the age of 27.
Never managing to put any money into savings age 30.
Getting fat age 35.

I have felt the weight of his disappointment  all through my life. But I love him, I love him utterly and his disapproval has coloured my life. Now there is just him. No Mum to cushion the relationship, to bridge the gap in us. Just him and me.
I visit him 2 or 3 times a week and we talk more than we have done for many many years. Finally I have seen hints in his words and actions that show his love for me, that express his approval and recognition of the person I have become.
He is sad and lonely and feels he has no purpose anymore, he had made it his personal aim to out live my Mum so he could take care of her. He has achieved it and he now feels he doesn't really have a reason to go on. I know that his one small pleasure is his garden, its winter and damp, cold and dreary, not the weather to go out and potter outside. Especially at 87 and only 2 weeks after a bout of bronchitis and 3 weeks after an operation!

Anyway, as with any elderly parent he gives me cause for concern. I hate the thought of him being sad and yet feel powerless to do anything. I hate the thought of him being lonely and yet he declines all offers of company, invitations and visits. I hate the thought that he has no future to look forward to as such and yet have no answers in the face of his determination to remain in the past.

And I am utterly terrified of losing him too. It means I will then have to grow up, be a grown up myself......

And then of course there is K. I must be totally fucking mad!!! I had just about got myself to a place I could function. Just about, it had been 20 months and he was still my first waking thought and the last when I closed my eyes but at least i thought I knew it was over, that I had to get over it. And now it appears I am back up to my neck in it! We are in contact each and every day, many times a day. We utter I love you's and forevers. We shared 'intimate' moments of a sexual nature (he is my sex life). We chat by phone as often as is possible and have plans for lunch together in a mere 11 days.


Of course you could just accuse him of having his cake and eating it too. And I don't blame you. Except he isn't. He has told me we can't be intimate in real life, that its too much of a betrayal. (Yeah yeah, how can he make love to me with words, tell me he loves me, chat to me for hours, write me poems and send me pictures and it not count as a betrayal? How the hell do I know!!) and yet that is the way he sees it, its the way he can cope with sharing his time, days, thoughts, emotions with me. Quite frankly I would rip any mans head off that had even a smidgen of the intimacy that we shared with another woman, sex or no sex!! But hey, thats me.

And so once again I find myself dangerously embroiled in a love affair that can only end in tears, probably for us both but its mine I am most concerned about.


So I feel my days are spent walking a tightrope, teetering on the edge of a precipice that I might tumble into, crashing through this thin veneer of happiness if I allow myself to wallow in any of these emotions, and that once tumbling I shall just free-fall myself back into a bucket of Happy-Pills once again.......and one of the worst things? I can't tell K, one of my best friends, the one I tell all too. He has just let slip to me this very morning that he thinks his wife is heading for another bout of depression in response to their being issues with his son.....so how can I tell him that his long-distance-lover is also turning into a nutball.........

Sunday, 13 February 2011

Inner Child

I recently found this posted on the adult site I am a member of, a lady there had written about her changing life and the way she is attempting to discover a more light hearted approach to life. A few members had replied to her with thoughts and mentioned the 'inner child' in all of us. One posted this link below!

I defy any of you not to smile while watching this......how many of us have watched our children play with a feeling of envy....would you remember how to play? I have to admit that while grinning inanely at the screen my eyes also filled up, I so don't want to be a grown-up some days.



One of my favourite films is "Big" with Tom Hanks, and my favourite scene of that is where he and his 'girlfriend' trampoline in his apartment! That makes me fill up too LOL jeez i need to get out more!

Saturday, 12 February 2011

Friend or Foe?

When I was a little girl I had a 'best friend'. Our Mums knew each other and we played together a bit in her garden when my Mum was invited round for coffee. They then moved away and lost touch but a few years later they returned to the house whose garden runs down almost to the bottom of ours. The girl and I resumed our friendship, now teetering on the cusp of being teenagers.



We experimented with our new found fashion sense and kissing skills (yes she really was my very first snog!) There was the natural young girl jealousies, she was petite, dark haired and tanned easily, her eyes were large, dark and framed by lashes that sneered at mascara, she had boobs before me and whenever I managed to cajole or pester my Mum into eventually buying a much wanted 'fashion item' (namely some hideous platform shoes, some hot pants and a pink butterfly dress) she would admire, note and appear in just the same outfit the next week.....

Every boy I liked during my early teenage years she threw herself at and 'got', being so much louder, forward and seemingly confident than me. Even the boy I went out with on and off for 5 years (age 15-20) wasn't off bounds to her, and during a couple of 'off' periods hung around with her. You get the picture? But we remained friends....... until at the age of 20 and then she finally blew it for me.



I had parted from my long term boyfriend and she took me under her wing and dragged me off to the city centre night clubs, to spread my wings and stop me moping. Of course what it then turned out was she wanted to snare the DJ there and hadn't got anyone to go with and I was left on my own for most of the night while she pouted, flirted and displayed herself in front of his 'booth'. Fortunately for me there was a girl there who had just started work at the same store as me and she let me join her and her friends (she so happens to be one of the ladies I now go on my annual Girlie Holiday with 30 years later!)

During one of these nights out, when I would accompany her into town and to the club and she would then latch onto DJ-Man and I would join my 'new friends' I bumped into a lad I had gone to school with. He had been my first crush, I had adored him for my 4 years of Junior School. He had grown, my how he had grown! Now 6'2" of gorgeous, golden haired, blue eyed lusciousness! We chatted and laughed and flirted and he asked me to go for a drink with him. I went out on a couple of dates with him and was quite smitten....... you can sort of guess what happened can't you? You can see it coming......

One particular night my 'friend' was going to a party, she asked for my help so I did her makeup, her hair and she borrowed my new bright yellow out fit (it was in then! it was the 80's!) I even dropped her off at the damn place she was going and then headed off into town to meet 'new friends' at the club and with the promise that First Crush would meet me there later in the night. He never appeared and 2am arrived and the clubs closed, I headed for my car (yes you are reading correctly, Clubs really did once close at 2 am and yes no one frowned and thought you were bad for drink-driving.....madness!) I dropped off all my friends and heading home happened to pass First Crushes car parked up next to 'friends' house. Yep, there she was a tangled mess of hair, makeup and my yellow outfit, wrapped round my new love interest in the front seat of his car.........

That truly was it! There was a calm but small scene and I told her she better be at my house in the morning to return my clothes! We never socialised again.

It was 9 years later that I saw her, I was married and pregnant with my first baby and knowing she had recently come back to the area and was working for her step-dad I called into the office one afternoon. She was thrilled to see me and we chatted a while. We talked about old times and teenage years (skirting over the unpleasant bits of course) and she told me she had always wanted to be like me! Me!?! Me????? Why????

Because apparently everyone loved me, I was sensible, people took me seriously, she loved my smooth golden brown hair, my blue eyes, my gentle golden tan. She liked my height, my long legs, my straight teeth! Jeez isn't being a teen mad! We had been total opposites and yet we had compared and envied each other all those years! She invited herself round that night to see my house and meet my husband (I can't say I wasn't a little bit uneasy at this LOL). We spent the evening catching up, drinking wine and talking about the impending birth of my new baby!

I never saw her after that........we never kept in touch....

A few months ago, 21 years later, she has found me on Facebook through a friend of a friend. She now lives down south and is married and has 2 boys much younger than my girls. We have chatted briefly on FB chat and we have commented on a few of each others photos. She then announced that she and her hubby were coming up to my home city in February and maybe we could meet up and go for Sunday lunch somewhere. I hesitantly agreed.

I then got a further message a few weeks later telling me that they were coming up to watch the Rugby (some corporate event of her husbands) and that could they join us for a meal or take-away in the evening....oh and could they sleep on my floor?????? I replied that I could do better than that, they could have my daughters room for the night as she would be at her boyfriends. Why did I do that?? Why didn't I just say no?? What got into me??

I have now received a message to say that they will be at our house around lunch time Saturday, that hubby 'may' go an visit an old friend of his and she could 'spend some time' with me and have a 'massive catch up' before they head off to the rugby match and then come back to us for food and bed....

Am I wrong to feel royally pissed off at all this? I know that I have gone along with it, that I could have said No, that I could have made excuses or said we were away.... I am not sure why I haven't. Perhaps some bizarre need to not let the past influence me, to still appear to be lovely, warm, friendly, forgiving me, it was after all 30 years ago, we are different people......aren't we?

Then there is the part of me that thinks I have managed perfectly without being in contact with her for all that time, why the hell should I feel any need to resume that contact now?

I also know that part of my reluctance and worry is that my hubby and now won't be able to put on a believable 'front', all our friends know how things are between us, we don't have to pretend or hide the distance between us, we are usually seen in public at do's or parties, plenty of people to mingle and mix with, we don't have to put on the facade of the 'Happy Couple'. This time it will be just the 2 of us with the 2 of them, so much harder to hide the cracks, I'm truly not sure how apparent our cracks are to an outsider.
I also feel I am once again 'being used'......or is that a terribly cynical assumption? Had it been the other way round I wouldn't have dreamed of inviting myself to stop over with what are effectively strangers, I would have booked a cheap hotel for my weekend and asked if they would be free for a drink and a meal..... So maybe we are still SO so different......

*sighs and wonders whether to feign some personal drama that means I have to leave the country that weekend*

Sunday, 6 February 2011

The Gift

I have recently finished reading a book, one of my favourite type, fiction, a bit of a tear jerker, funny in places, you know the sort, an easy read. 
The main character wasn't a particularly good man, bogged down by misplaced loyalties and personal goals, self centred and blind to the person he had become and yet cleverly he was delivered to you in a way that made you care about him, you wanted to find him likable. 

He befriended a mysterious stranger who seemed down on his luck and in return was given The Gift. The Gift of being able to be two people, to be in two places at any one time, to carry out two sets of commitments simultaneously. What an amazing feat, how utterly brilliant that would be if only it were possible! 


 


I could be here living in the bosom of my once-adequate marriage, loving and caring for my girls, close by my widowed father, not in the least concerned with the lack of passion, intimacy and companionship in my love life. Because elsewhere there was the 'Other' me, loving and living, laughing and sharing my 'Other' life with my lover, the 'Other' K, the one who was free of commitments and guilt, free to love me and be mine and full of the life and love I crave....... 

And he in turn could remain where he needs to be, with his children and their mother, with his friends, family and neighbours, unrocking their world and not caring about its similar inadequacies because his 'Other' self had me....!

Of course the price for this wondrous gift for our questionable hero was his life  (there's always the kill joy downside eh!) ....The Gift was given to him so he could tie up loose ends, make amends and complete his personal goals all before his untimely end...... 

So with that in mind I'll happily give it a miss and carry on with my imperfect lives and loves  ....but it was a lovely dream on a damp dreary windy Sunday afternoon 

Thursday, 3 February 2011

A Vent into the Void...Not

Its hardly a void is it? Not when there are people out there reading my words. Of course I admit there aren't many of you, a handful of folks intrigued or bored enough to devour my meagre words...but hey my lovelies! you fill the void! So I shall vent to you!

You now know that the relationship with 'K' has been, at least partially, resumed. We chat on an almost daily basis, have arranged a lunch date in early March and are hoping to plan a 'holiday' together ....ha ha ha its a day stolen from his time owed from work but it means we can spend a whole day together, we may go into London and explore!

Now for those of you of a delicate disposition please shield your eyes but I have written that we engage in sexual play of an adult nature before so you shouldn't be too shocked. We manage to lose ourselves in the erotic world of cyber, we make love with words and voices over the phone and we also play Femdom D/s games through the mediums of email, text and the web....shocking stuff!

This is the sum total of my sex life at the moment having not had any intimate contact with my husband for 19 months....nothing....zilch. It makes me sad. Not because I am not having sex with my husband, more because I am not having sex at all! I am a mere *@$?# years old and I have so much love and passion and warmth to give, truly the thought of never making love again makes me groan....and so NOT in a good way! But I have found that amazing 'cyber' sex is better than unsatisfactory real sex and so.........

I also am honest with my husband, as I have previously written, I never saw the point in creating more lies once I had been honest and everything was in the open, I don't go out to be cruel and I don't tell if I'm not ask but if I am I don't lie or pretend.

My Love and I have reverted to our past ways and tell each other often of our affections and thoughts and feelings, its what we do and do it exceptionally well.

So when this weekend he and I got into a wee discussion about morals and I 'jokingly' referred to them as a 'pile of poo' he retorted that was something we have never agreed on and that he was still making "a pathetic attempt at morality" (He means because he has spelled out to me at the end of last year that although he loves me intensely he can "never act on that love" - in other words I don't get shagged!) A follow up text confirmed what I was already thinking, that the irony of that comment wasn't lost on him as he was at that very moment walking around a Garden Centre wearing a pair of ladies panties at my instruction with a semi-erection! Enough said!

I was furious! I bit my tongue and simmered for a while before replying. But when I did I brought to his attention that whatever he thought of MY morals or views on them, it wasn't me that was living a lie or deceiving my spouse. When he and I first met and delved into our 'affair' he seemingly did an extremely good job at convincing wifey that all was good and dandy, for when he finally came clean and told her all she was shocked, she hadn't got a clue, she hadn't been suspicious, she was upset that he claimed he had been so unhappy with her and she hadn't been aware, as a husband he had 'ticked all her boxes'!

We now once again have lots of contact, we speak most days, he tells me he loves me, we share sexual times arousing each other with words and playing games when I know we are both focussed on each other and not our immediate surroundings....so either she is blind or he is doing another bloody good job of making all appear hunky dory at home!

I don't think its my view of 'poo-shaped-morals' that needs to be questioned at all at this moment in time!

End of vent *grins broadly* Thank you for listening..... 

Sunday, 16 January 2011

The Missing Piece

I perhaps feel that when I first joined here all my words were anonymous, ramblings and rants, cathartic mind clearings, gentle unravelling of thought processes. I reposted all my old MySpace blogs and I've written about my life, my loves, my desires, my disappointments. My blogs have told the story of my 'sad' marriage, explained my discovery of Femdom through the reign of my glorious love-affair and acted as therapy during the eventual heart break of recovering from that. 

But as you get regular readers it becomes less anonymous, less venting into the void and although many comments bring support, advise, words of wisdom and insight, some can feel critical and judgemental. 

The adult site I am a member of and used to blog on also lost its feeling of anonymity and I found I lost the ability to open up and let the words flow....I also felt I lost my ‘Tormentress’ mojo. I stopped posting in the forum there, I stopped reading the posts, I avoided the blogs of others, I stomped around their chatroom still a little but felt I had lost the essence of being the dominant woman I had discovered. 

It was in the middle of last year that 2 very important things happened. Firstly I met up with 'K' again, a gorgeous summer’s afternoon spent picnicking and sitting on a blanket in our country park. The most significant part of that meeting was the admission by him that his love for me hadn’t altered, it hadn’t gone away, it still remained and felt as intense as it had done 20 months earlier when we had parted. 


Now this was a bit of a shock for me,Rolling Eyes I had been working hard on being the ‘friendly-ex-who-could-maintain-casual-contact’. It thrilled me, it terrified me, it comforted me. 
He loved me YAY! 
Oh fuck he loved me!!! 
Awww he DID love me, I wasn’t mad to still feel it myself!


But of course along with that came all sorts of other emotions. Where did we go from here? I simply didn't dare begin to examine what was going on in my head and heart in case I just couldn't get the lid on it all again! 

Later that month my Mum suffered heart failure and had her pacemaker fitted. As I previously wrote she never fully recovered and when I met up with 'K' again at the start of October I sobbed to him that I was so afraid that I would lose her before Christmas, that I knew she was dying and how scared I was. My beautiful Mummy was admitted back in hospital a mere 4 days later and suffered a horrendous stroke 3 days after that. I leaned on ‘K’ heavily. 

I always wrote that he was my dearest friend as well as my lover and submissive and if anything put that friendship to the test, it was then. He was simply wonderful. He held my hand from afar, messages of comfort and support, an ear to rant into when the world felt unjust, words of love and gentle guidance when I felt alone. I can never thank him enough for the time he held me across the miles through Mums last days and over the time of her funeral….. 

But although all this time I had so many emotions and thoughts raging through me I found I simply couldn't face putting words onto a page. Everything seemed too huge, too painful, too dangerous, like a split bean-bag, it would stay intact if left alone but if you moved it you were likely to end up with its guts bursting over the entire space...... 

After the funeral I let go of his hand, I needed him to know that although I was eternally grateful for his care of me when I needed it he was free to turn away once more if he needed to. He hasn’t done. We have maintained wonderful daily contact, we have laughter and chatter and gossipy giggles on the phone! We both have wonderful new fancy-pants phones that mean we can keep in contact by email, text, chat, skype, carrier pigeon…..any number of mediums! And tentatively we have explored what was always utterly wonderful D/s play. 

Now I am not sure where quite this leads us or where it will end up. I do know that I am in a very different place than before, but I don’t need to dissect and examine any of what is still us…not just yet at least. he tells me he simply stopped feeling angry at himself for loving me, at me for loving him. Our future is uncertain and imperfect but we know that we still want each other in our lives.......in his words he is "pretty sure our journeys lie on parallel tracks"....so only time will tell, after all we have forever.....don't we? 

What I will say is that I had (almost) forgotten how consuming, intense, mind-melting and intimate play can be, even remotely performed for each other. I feel like I have found my missing piece, and I shall do whatever it takes to keep that piece safe and protected, I don’t intend losing it again…. 
 

Sunday, 21 November 2010

Someone Like You........

This is a truly beautiful song, I love her voice and the lyrics to this are just wonderfully poignant for me...
I hope you enjoy........


Monday, 15 November 2010

A Terrible End of a Beautiful Life

This is really hard to write. My head has been full of so much stuff over the last few weeks and yet despite the fact that this is the precise reason I started this blog, to anonymously vent into the void of the World Wide Weird, I haven't been able to put down the thought patterns, processes and consuming ideas into real words.

Lets start at the beginning, or is it the end? The main focus and purpose of this here blog was to decipher cerebral ramblings and untangle the web of hurt I had found myself in.....or had I wrapped myself in it? Who knows, it all feels pretty irrelevant at the moment, and yet it does still tinge all my thoughts and emotions.

October 1st was to be the day that I was to meet K after our self imposed quarantine from each other. From my perspective I had given him the space I had presumed he needed, space to succeed or fail with getting relationship clearer, for me it gave me breathing space a little and although as I wrote, I found it incredibly hard at first, I did get used to it knowing that I had a firm date to see him again.

From his perspective it seems he felt I was waiting for a response, a decision as to whether he could still find a way for us to be together or whether he was going to 'make' his marriage work.

We had a afternoon together, we chatted, laughed and cried. He told me that he couldn't be with me, that he loved me but that he had to be with his children and ultimately, because of his certain desire to be a 'family man', the mother of his children. I accepted it. What else could I do? We toyed gently with the idea of both trying to remain friends while at the same admitting that neither of us knew if this was possible for either of our heads or hearts.

Three days later my darling Mum was admitted back into hospital with heart failure. And this is where my writing will become a little erratic so I forewarn you now, that this is a jumble of fact, regret, wishes and what-ifs.......

As I previously wrote, Mum had a pacemaker fitted back in July when we were told her heart and arteries were severely damaged and the pacemaker was the only option they could take as it was too risky to perform more invasive surgery. On Monday 4 October the ambulance took her into the A&E Department at 10.30am. My Dad rang me when he knew I would be home from work at 5.30pm, I went straight to see him. He was a bit upset that when he had rang the hospital she had still been in A&E and they hadn't located a bed for her. I rang the hospital, it 6.15pm and she was still in the Accident & Emergency bays. Not in the Decisions Unit Ward I asked the staff nurse? No, we have no beds and we decided it would be better for her to be where we could see her..... But she is 84, alone, suffering from heart failure and has now been in your department since 10.30 this morning! Yes, I'm afraid so..... And do you think that is acceptable?? No its not ideal I'm afraid.....But an ambulance crew has just arrived this minute to take her to the other hospital......

Dad and I went to the other hospital to meet her when she got there, we stayed till after 10 at night when it was obvious we were in the way and they would get her into a proper bed as soon as they could. Twelve hours on a trolley......... God bless her, not one complaint.....

I visited her Monday night, and Tuesday night and Wednesday night, when she was in good spirits and bright, sitting by the bed, dressed, made-up and making us laugh out loud at her observations of hospital life, all spoken rather too loudly to be discreet which amused my girls all the more! I text K on the way home to say how much brighter she was and how I felt happier after seeing her that night.

Thursday at about 5pm before I could visit her she suffered a stroke. Apparently a clot from her damaged heart had caused it. Dad and I rushed to the hospital as soon as we got the word. Oh what a mess, what a different Mum we found! Propped up in the bed, incoherent, wig removed, teeth removed, in a hospital gown, distressed and agitated. We spoke to her, she knew we were there, she wanted to pee but refused point blank to use a bed pan saying she was in her chair at home and Dad would be cross if she wet it. No amount of persuasion from either me or Dad could convince her otherwise. She became more and more distressed and finally after what seemed like hours they catheterised her.

Still she shrieked and wailed and thrashed about not believing that she didn't need to sit on a toilet. I stopped the night with her. I got one hours sleep,so did the rest of the ward, after I finally convinced the registrar to sedate her for her own sake as surely being so agitated wasn't good for her.....

I'd called my brother the previous night and told him what had happened, so at 7am my Dad came to take over from me and I went home to shower, breakfast, rest and wait for my brother to arrive from Wales. We returned to the hospital.

She was transferred back to the original hospital now as a stroke patient, she was examined and we were gently told there was little hope and we were to expect the worse. My girls came to visit her despite my Dad not wanting them to see her like that, I felt that they were grown up enough to face it, they were both in tears but she was thrilled to know they were there. They told her they loved her and she told them she loved them too. They were so distraught when they left I was left wondering whether I had done the right thing, until about an hour later I got a text from my eldest to say they were so glad they had come, that they could still see their Nana there and were happy they had been able to hold her and kiss her.

They moved her to a side room.

She couldn't feel or move her left leg and arm with any control, she couldn't see well and her left eye never opened fully, her speech was slurred and she failed each 'swallow test' they did on her and after 4 days they put in a feeding tube and began to treat her for a chest infection that was brewing. She got weaker each day, barely opened her eyes. The upside of this was that she became too weak to thrash about, she had already taken chunks out of both her shins kicking her legs about while so terribly agitated and it took another day for them to locate 'bumpers' to cover the cot sides to protect her. Some nurses would ensure that the pillows were pushed between bed sides and mattress to keep her safe then another would come in to change the bed and not put them back! More bumps, more bruises, more blood stained sheets and so it went on.

I watched as my warm, beautiful, radiant Mummy faded away. We sat with her for almost 12 hours a day that first weekend, Dad and my brother relieving me for 2 or 3 hours at a time, I hated leaving her at night as I feared it would the last time I saw her. She dreamt vividly and was fully aware of her predicament. One evening sitting beside her I suddenly had this terrible fear that this bloody pacemaker was keeping her alive!! She should have gone, she should be at peace and that fucking thing sent its electric pulses into her irreparably damaged heart and kept her alive!! I was so upset and angry! I dashed home and googled and was partially reassured when it told me that a pacemaker only had the ability to 'pace' healthy heart tissue, that once heart tissue was truly dead it couldn't make it beat. But still I was tormented that it was stopping her from having a swifter, more dignified end.

More sitting beside her while she alternated between gasping desperately for breath and not breathing at all despite the permanent oxygen feed. The Consultant told me it was the way with a brain damaged by stroke, the bodies finely tuned breathing mechanism was buggered, so instead of even breaths ensuring oxygen levels remained stable the brain stopped the body breathing when oxygen levels rose and when they dropped they would start this pattern of gasped breaths till the levels were sufficient again. It made it slightly less heartbreaking to watch. I was told that evening that her organs were failing, we knew for certain then that there was no hope. And it was a relief......

What would we have done with her if she were to survive, she was trapped in this body that had let her down, still with a catheter, in diapers now she was being fed, couldn't eat, couldn't move, could barely talk, drifting in and out of consciousness the whole time....shit what sort of existence was that?!? You wouldn't keep an animal alive like that and yet there they were still treating her and feeding her and talking like we had decisions to make about her future!

On day 6 I took compassionate leave from work (though I had only been there 2 afternoons anyway) and sat by her bed from early morning till late at night. When she stirred she knew I was there, I brushed her baby fine hair and washed and moisturised her face when she woke, I moistened her mouth with wet swabs and coated her lips in a soft salve, she knew I was there as I held her hand for countless hours and talked gently to her when she woke wanting to know what time it was, what day it was, had my nephews baby been born yet,  where was my Dad, how were my girls. Dad came and sat with her for the afternoons, I watched as he held her hand, called her darling and smoothed her face, kissing her mouth when he left, a love affair that had lasted a lifetime, the only woman he had ever 'known'...... I felt his heart breaking as he watched her.

On the 8th day I arrived at the hospital in the morning to find her distressed and with a temperature, my brother had arrived back that morning and he and Dad joined me an hour and a half later. The doctors did their rounds, we were once again taken to a private room and told that a new infection had taken a hold on her, that there was 2 options, we could let them treat her with stronger drugs that may work and give her an extra few days/weeks or we could opt to stop all treatment and 'let nature take its course'. We all agreed on the latter, we all felt that was what was best and right and always had been.

The intravenous was removed within 15 minutes, I took the oxygen tube away myself, the nurse withdrew the feeding tube and I cleansed and moisturised my Mums face for the last time. The doctor had said we would probably have around a day with her. I wanted her clean so asked the nurses to come in and do her morning wash. They spent what turned out to be a precious 30 minutes washing her, changing her and putting her into a clean night dress. My Dad and brother decided to go grab some lunch (brother is diabetic) and return later when I could go and grab something to eat.

They left at 12.10pm. I sat with her and held her hand, her face pale and cool to touch. Her breathing slowed and became uneven. I leaned over her and kissed her lovely face, I told her how much I loved her and thanked her for being a wonderful Mum and for loving my girls, I told her I wanted her to rest, that she wasn't alone and that she should let go and as my tears fell on the pillow beside her face she took 3 strangled breaths and stopped.

I watched and waited, knowing really that there wasn't going to be another but desperately not wanting to believe it. I stroked her face and cried. In relief and fear and sorrow. It had been just an hour and 25 minutes since they had removed all the tubes.

And now for the wishes, what-ifs and regrets.....

I wish they had never put the pacemaker in, I wish they had discussed it with us all before doing it not just taking my Mums consent into consideration. My Mum would agree to anything to be an easy patient, that was her way. If they had said to her "We're going to amputate your legs Margaret, so the podiatrist doesn't have to deal with those feet of yours any more" she would have agreed, to be helpful, to be easy for them. I wish we had insisted on knowing the implications of her having it placed.

I wish that my Dad had told me when she was admitted that second time, I would have gone to be with her at the hospital, I wouldn't have had her there in A&E, alone, frightened and stuck on a trolley for over 9 hours. Perhaps if I had been there they would have made more of an effort to get her a bed sooner, maybe that all contributed to the clot developing and heading off round her body....

I wish I hadn't insisted that they bathe and sort her the morning she died, I wish we'd had those extra precious 30 minutes or so to be with her, I'd thought I was doing what was best, I had wanted her feeling clean and fresh, I thought we had longer....

I wish she had died sooner, I wish she hadn't had to suffer the indignity, the distress, the fear of a prolonged death, I wish that if there was no hope that there wasn't a way of making a persons exit from this world smoother, kinder, gentler....

None of these things are helpful, none will change anything or bring my Mum back, I have spent the last 4 weeks trying to squash them and not think about them but finally I have had the courage to write them down hoping that in some cathartic way that it will bring them to a close. The things I have to try and forget are the times she told Dad and I that she wanted to die, that "it takes an awfully long time to die after a heart attack", the murmurs and mumbled "what an dreadful dreadful way to live". Those are the things I can't let myself dwell on.

What I do have to be glad of is the time I did have with my Mum, I feel honoured to have been with her to the end, I feel grateful to have had the chance to tell her and show her how much she was loved. Small things are the ones I have to nurture in my extensive library of memories, like while doing the little ritual of her face cleansing one morning, she said slowly to me "You are so clever, you know just what I need", the times I took her hand and kissed her when I arrived and she told me how she loved it when she heard my voice, the small smiles we shared when I was doing things for her, the glimpses of her humour that showed through even to the very end. They are the things that I have to hold onto and remember.

All through this K has been wonderful, held my hand and supported me from afar, been there with words of comfort and advise, let me weep to him on the phone when I couldn't bear to talk to any one else, and I shall never forget that nor be able to thank him adequately. I know I can think of him as a very dear friend.

Saturday, 23 October 2010

What Do You See?

This poem was found in the bedside locker on a ward at one of our local hospitals when it was being cleared out after the death of an elderly patient. It was published in the daily newspaper a number of years ago and for some reason my father kept the cutting. He showed me it this weekend and it struck a special cord as I have so recently lost my own Mum in the very same hospital.

It makes poignant reading........



What do you think you see nurses, what do you think you see?
What are you thinking when you are looking at me?
A crabbit old woman, not very wise,
Uncertain of habit, with far away eyes,
Who dribbles her food and makes no reply,
When you say in a loud voice “I do wish you’d try”
Who seems not to notice the things that you do,
And forever is losing a stocking or shoe,
Who unresisting or not, lets you do as you will,
With bathing and feeding, the long day to fill,
Is that what you’re thinking? Is that what you see?
Then open your eyes nurse, you’re not looking at me.

I’ll tell you who I am as I sit here so still,
As I move at your bidding, as I eat at your will,
I’m a small child of ten with a father and mother,
Brothers and sisters who love one another,
A young girl of sixteen with wings on her feet,
Dreaming now soon that a lover she’ll meet;
A bride soon at twenty my heart skips a beat,
Remembering the vows that I promised to keep,
At twenty-five now I have young of my own,
Who need me to build a secure, happy home;
 A woman of thirty, my young now grow fast,
Bound to each other with ties that should last,
At forty my young sons, now grown, shall be gone,
But my man stays beside me to see I don’t mourn.
At fifty once more babies play round my knees,
Again we know children, my loved one and me,
Dark days are upon me, my husband is dead,
I look to the future, I shudder with dread,
My young are all busy rearing young of their own,
And I think of the years and the love I have known.
I’m an old woman now and nature is cruel,
‘Tis her jest to make old age look like a fool,
The body it crumbles, grace and vigour depart.
There is now a stone where once was a heart.

But inside this old body a young girl still dwells
And now and again my battered heart swells.
I remember the joys, I remember the pain,
And I’m loving and living all over again.
And I think of the years, all too few, gone too fast
And accept the stark fact that nothing will last.

So open your eyes nurse, open and see,
Not a crabbit old woman, look closer – see me!

Saturday, 16 October 2010

RIP MY Darling Migglets

My Mummy finally lost her fight at 12.40 yesterday lunchtime. I was with her...alone....which was a little scary and bizarre and surreal, but ultimately I wouldn't have had it any other way. I had the honour of spending the last moments of her life with her and being able to tell her between sobs, how much she was loved and admired, I thanked her for being a warm and wonderful Mum and Nana to my girls, I was able to tell her it was ok to let go, that she wasn't alone and that there would be peace......

I shall miss her with all my heart but am relieved that she has no more suffering to endure. She was ceaselessly bright and cheerful despite many years of ill health, she always, what my Dad refers to as, 'took care of herself'. He meant she always made the effort with a little make-up and never failed to emerge with her pearls and earrings in place......she was a lady.

Tuesday, 12 October 2010

My Silence

My darling Mummy is extremely ill. We were warned to expect the worse this last weekend but it seems she is still fighting....
I am exhausted and emotional and trying to be brave for everyone.
I read all your blogs when I get a moment to catch up and lose myself in your words, funnies and antics. I just can't write any of my own at the moment. Part of me wants to rant and rave into the page ...... but I just can't.

Keep writing guys, they are my moments escape from what is going on here.....and I shall be back when I can..
x

Sunday, 26 September 2010

Close Encounter......

Quite amusingly my husband teased me when we first met many years ago that he was an alien, from a different planet. It was a silly tease and I can't remember all these years later how it began, something to do with the shape his fingers made when held close together. It used to make me chuckle when if anything occurred that was a little extraordinary we would grin and agree that it was probably due to his alien background!





When the girls were smaller I told them of this silliness and a few times they joined in with the giggle, a chorus of "it's cos daddy's an alien!!" when he did something peculiar.

Of course it now doesn't seem quite so funny, when I think back to how detached we have become, how hard he is to relate to, how 'deep' he keeps his feelings. Sometimes I wonder how I ever thought I could get beneath the surface and know him.

My Mummy isn't doing so well, unlike the warm, radiant lady I have known all my life she is now struggling. She is pale, cool, gaunt. Her once unwavering appetite has diminished. She is constantly breathless. She is fading, her heart failing. It was her birthday on Friday, and too many visitors, all well meaning, wore her out. She'd had a bad night and when I visited on Saturday she wasn't very bright. When I got home I got a upset and tearful and hubby gave me a hug and said it was understandable, it was only human to get upset about seeing my Mum like that.

And that made me think back to when his Mum (remember MIL?) was so ill and stopping with us. So with a (regrettably) scathing remark I mumbled about him obviously not being human as he had shown no emotion over the demise of his own Mum.......
The 'idea' that he might be from another world fleeted across my mind and this time it didn't seem funny at all!

I read a lovely book the recently where there was marital disharmony (of course it all turned out all right and had a happy ending - damn) but there was a single line in there that so summed up how I often feel at times when hubby and I 'share' a moment, I felt I had to quote it.....

"...the mortar of misunderstanding filled the small crack I had made in my hard, dark shell"

A perfect line, one I would love to claim as my own but sadly not. But there it is, my feelings in a nutshell.

Saturday, 4 September 2010

The Empty Swan Song

I have lost my voice.....

Not in the physical sense, but I have lost my blog voice. I simply can't write at the moment. Nothing that is in my head and heart feels exposable. I can't write of my darkest fears for fear they actually may look simply too frightening written here in black and white (or whatever colour my font turns them into on the page) Equally I dare not reveal my deepest hopes, they too may look hideously selfish and fantastical when staring right back at me from the screen.

I feel the only way I am surviving at the present time is by being swan-like.....serene, calm and pure, all surface beauty....the frantic paddling of my feet below the line of the water unseen by the passer-by or casual observer.



In a nutshell I am missing contact with K like mad! The first 3 weeks were hideous! I was totally obsessed with the thought of him, everything I did or thought felt like I simply had to tell him about it! I am not sure whether it was helped or hindered by the fact he was away on his annual family holiday, so would have been unavailable to me much of the time even if we had still been a red-hot-item! I knew that I couldn't make contact, but I also imagined him having a fabby-dabby family time and life being all rosy and sunshiny!

Last week I did contact him, regretted it the moment I had pressed the send button on the damn phone but ultimately was glad I did. He called me, we spoke, for close on an hour. We won't make contact again now until the allotted day of Friday October 1st, we have both agreed, but it never ceases to surprise me how once we have spoken I am filled with this wonderful calm, a feeling of still and warmth.....it wears off, but it is comforting and welcome while it lasts.

The reason for this break on the embargo was I have secured myself a new role at work.
I have spent the last 2 years and 9 months working 3 days in a position that for the most part I have loathed. I have become fairly good at it, I have been recognised and rewarded for being good at it and although I hate to admit it there are days I have come home and felt I have had a good day but for the most part I have felt frustrated and constrained. So back in June I applied for a position as a seconded Training Partner. I was invited for a second interview and was successful! I am thrilled to bits to finally be able to use some of my other people skills in the work place and work in a role that I hope to find more fulfilling.....I simply had to let him know I had got it!

But that leads to another seed of niggly stuff in my head. The position is full time. I originally took my job because they gave me a contract of 3 full days, Mon - Weds each week, allowing me to have every Thursday and Friday free, free to speak on the phone for hours to K, free to indulge my time at home to thinking thoughts of us, free to jump in my car at any given moment and drive to a rendezvous spot to meet him. It was one of the things that made us possible. The full time hours will keep me busy and focussed, they will give me a personal strength and a little more financial security. But they also mean that Friday 1st October could be the last time I may see K, if not for ever...for a very long time...and that is one of those 'frantic-underwater-swan-feet" moments that I dare not let myself think of.

The situation at home is calmer too. We attended 2 sessions of Relate marriage guidance counselling. We needed far more, we can't really afford the fees and both felt after the second meeting that while it had opened up a little communication it wasn't perhaps the best time for us to get the most out of it...... we haven't discounted future appointments but recognise that we both need to feel committed to either resolve (which I don't feel is possible) or compromise and find another route for settling. It appears to have acted a little like a lot of stressful situations do, it draws together those that have the shared experience..the 'ooh we survived that  together' syndrome! So we are being a little kinder to each other, a little gentler, though we still negotiate our world like two housemates as opposed to lovers or spouses....

So I will continue to paddle serenely across this water, watch out for strong currents, avoid the weirs and keep an eye of for thick weeds and perhaps no one will notice the frantic feet paddling desperately underneath......

Wednesday, 25 August 2010

Fretting Mother Alert

Ok I am officially a Fretty-Mum!
Among all the other things I have described myself as on this here blog, I am now fully admitting to having "frantic-Mummy" colly-wobbles! My baby girl has headed off today to her first festival!



There is a part of me that is totally envious. The first 'concert' I ever went to was at the age of about 13 to see Steve Harley and Cockney Rebel at a local venue, the crowd capacity a staggering 1800 (I don't think it was full...). Both my girls have been attending concerts of NEC and G-Mex proportions since the tender age of 5!



But now my baby girl has gone for 5 days of festival festivities with a crowd of her college friends to Reading!
I fear she is terribly ill-prepared but all advise, suggestions, prods and offers of assistance were firmly sneered at.... she knew it was going to be 'immense', she knew the toilets would be 'gross', she knew she would have to sleep on hard ground in the cold, she knew she would have to feed herself etc etc etc....

She is sensible and careful and trustworthy. She is not stupid or foolish. But jeezeroony! It has taken all of my 'cool-Mum' legendary status to let her calmly leave today and wish her a wonderful time!

Tonight it had rained heavily, it is now 9.30pm, I have not heard from her yet. I imagine her tired and wet and possibly hungry (if they haven't eaten all their supplies on the coach down there) and trying to get their tent put up in the dark.... She won't be home till Monday......I can see this feeling a very long fretty weekend!

Thursday, 5 August 2010

That Tiny Glimmer

Thursday 5 August 2010 

I miss him. It has only been 5 days and I stupidly miss him. I check my phone and my emails even while knowing that he will not make contact, I categorically know that there will be no words and yet still I check. And when there is a text or mail I am still disappointed once open to see it is not from him. Even though in my heart I know it won’t be.

What is it about human nature that clings to the tiny atoms of hope? That however much you say to yourself that there is none, that you know there is none, that you have accepted there is none…that deep down in your subconscious there is that weenie glimmer, like a tiny spark in a burned out campfire, that with the smallest waft of a breeze can glow fiercely……well that is my hope…..

And my hope is tied into so many other things. Ok, we get through the next 57 days and we reach the fated day of Friday 1st October, because we will, God willing there is little doubt of that. And what then? A few more wafts to reignite that tiny ember and then nothing…..because in my heart I also know that, that there really is no solution to any of this. That something has got to give, there is no happy ending.

Is it selfish to want a happy ending? Sometimes I think it is and that’s probably because the ending that would feel happy for me would be the ending that would cause deep sadness to others (therefore not happy at all as that in turn would hurt me still). Yet at other times it doesn’t feel selfish, because we would all heal, everyone of us touched by this would heal in time….and maybe things would feel happier by then….

There is no happy ending. If I get what I want others feel deep pain. If I don’t get what I want there is still deep pain. It’s mess, a dreadful mess.

I have tried so hard over recent months to move on from this. In the initial period I know I wallowed and clung, I was scared that if I got over him he wouldn’t come back to me, that if I wiped it all away I would forget it all and him. Over the last year I have tried to put it behind me.

The feelings I had for him, for us, for what we shared I stuck in a box, but the temptation at first to peep and peer in and poke about was immense. So I fitted it with a tight lid. But they seemed to effervesce every so often and blow the lid clean off! So out came the sticky tape and elastic bands, wrapped tightly over the lid to keep in place but gradually they have eroded the bottom of the box and seeped out and now all I seem to be left with is a nasty mess, not contained in the pretty box at all.

So when in 57 days time we meet and talk and smile and laugh (because we will, we always do, so totally maddeningly easily and comfortably) where will it leave things then?

When we met last time we kissed. It was the first time we have kissed for 21 months. I told my friend. She said how was it? And I said like coming home………