Making Any More sense?

I have had a much needed holiday. In fact I have been back now a little over 3 weeks. It was a girly holiday, six of us all together for a week in glorious Portugal.

I have had a wonderful time, our days easy and relaxed.


We hit the beach each day, an easy 15 minute stroll down the road and as creatures of curious habit located a 'spot' on the beach that was to become 'ours' for the 7 days we were there.

Once settled with sunbed and sun umbrella we chatted, giggled, read, snoozed and braved the sea many times throughout the day, initially to cool down but the waves at times were tremendous and we have laughed so much while being pounded by the incoming surf!! I lost my favourite pair of sunglasses to an errant wave and we all nearly lost our bikini bottoms on several occasions!

Although fun and relaxing the week has been extremely hard at times. Many memories of where my life was at the last time we were all on holiday together a little over 2 years ago, sites and stuff I longed to share, well meaning advise being given, not always welcome opinions of stuff. All offered with love and care for me but at times hard to swallow. There is nothing anyone can say to me that I have not heard, thought or previously considered. The dreadful thing about advice is that it is only deemed 'good advice' if it is directing you in a direction you wish to go, anything other than what you want to hear is seen as an 'opinion' or 'interference'.......

The advise stretched to many areas of my life, my marriage, my health, my weight, all said with concern but being 'Northern Lasses' perhaps a little less tact than I was in need of.

Before I went away I asked my husband to consider carefully what he wanted us to do when I returned. I told him that we both deserved happiness and that because we are parents, homeowners and at a scary age to consider being alone, this shouldn't be the deciding factor. of course there was a lot more said but he agreed to think about what HE wanted while I was away.

It took 3 days and my eventual prod for him to raise the subject upon my return. And his only words were that he 'loves me deeply'. I perhaps should be content with that, so why aren't I? I told him that if we were to stand a chance of surviving we had to seek outside help, some sort of counselling. He 'agreed' and said he would sort something. To this date he hasn't and when queried he said we couldn't 'really afford it at the moment'.

Can you put a price on the rebuilding of a marriage if that is what you really want? Can we not cancel Sky TV for a while??
The other evening we went to bed at around the same time and I told him how sad and teary I felt. We hugged under the duvet and ended entwining ourselves together, no kisses, no carresses, but wrapped in each other. We fell asleep and woke briefly, overheated and disengaged before falling asleep again. I thought that maybe this would mark a new 'intimacy' for us, a glimpse of affection to be built upon, but I haven't been touched since. I really am now at despair stage. I feel over and over again I hand him the key only for him to put it down and forget about it over and over again. At what point do I throw it away and stop trying?

So boringly once again I write that I have some hard choices to make over the ensuing weeks/months and my feelings are mixed. Part of me feels at odds with all the decisions that need to be made, confused and emotional about what to do. Another part feels recharged and renewed and a little resolved. Whatever the future may hold, one thing is for sure I am determined it will hold a happier, healthier, whole me.

And so it seems I am at the end of all pre-posted blogs. I have posted them as written and now here they sit, for all the world to read, analyse and discard.

I previously wrote that I wasn't sure of the reasons I had felt the need to re-post all these words, suffice to say I have done and we have now reached the end. No more love affair to write about, no more secret liaisons to report, just the end.

I am now longer on my 'happy pills' and havent been for many weeks now. Am I 'cured'? Do I feel 'normal' now? Hell, what is normal!!?? I have good days and I have bad days. I have days of clear surety about what I feel and days of utter blackness where I don't want anything other than my duvet and a bottle of wine. Some days I am happy and laughter filled and full of positive vibes and others I know I am a misery to be around.

Oh don't get me wrong, I am able to paint on that happy persona each day, as I dress in my favourite lingerie, no longer stuffed at the back of the drawer like some precious momento of times gone by but worn and enjoyed again if only by me, as I sit at my dressing table and carefully apply the expensive makeup I prefer and spray myself with fragrance, I take a deep breath and face the day. For the most part I am able to portray the confident, smiley, humour-filled me that most people know and 'love'. As I say, some days are harder than others.

So I guess I will continue my 'journey' and attempt to make some sense of it all and I shall continue to write to empty my head and put my thoughts in place.

I love that a few of you read my Velveteen Days blog too, I shall keep this one for emotions me thinks and the othe rone for trinkets.....what do you think?