Sleep and Stupidity

It has been a challenging week. I can't bring myself to even write the Week in Review because to be honest, I don't even want to have to revisit most of it. In many ways, it wasn't a bad week. It may have brought some experiences that were necessary, or ones that have been somewhat worthwhile in hindsight, but it still doesn't mean it was easy, or even enjoyable.

Yesterday I woke up with the beginnings of a migraine. I was still in a really good mood, woke relatively early and called BFTP for our devotional and then had a nice long shower and got dressed. I weighed myself, which I rarely do, but have done more frequently lately to check on the state of my depleting body weight, and was encouraged to find that my increasing greediness has resulted in the gain of a few pounds. Dad had caught the flu at the end of this week and although he was starting to feel better, he decided to stay at home and rest. Big Sis, Mum and I left in good time for church and basked in the sunshine by putting our sunglasses on in sync. I ate toast and drank tea on the way and then resigned to taking half a dose of medication for my migraine, which seemed to be settling in for the long haul.

Big Sis and I joined a different Bible study group to Mum and had an interesting and thoughtful discussion. My eyes were feeling sensitive to the light and my head was still feeling fuzzy, so I took the remainder of my migraine medication and hoped that it wouldn't spoil my enjoyment of the day. When the main service started, we sang our hearts out and felt our spirits become lighter. We listened to a children's' story that seemed to have a very tenuous link to a moral lesson. It really tickled me and I was shaking with laughter and had tears streaming out of my eyes at the hilarious narrative. Mum and Big Sis smiled at my uncontrollable reaction and Big Sis tried to avoid eye contact with me so that my giggles wouldn't become contagious. I eventually managed to calm down in time for the sermon and felt uplifted, encouraged an inspired by the message that was based on Romans chapter 7 and the start of chapter 8.

We spoke to friends and greeted familiar and non-familiar faces alike. The sun was still shining brightly and we were feeling refreshed. Mum and Big Sis went to speak to the leader of the small group we had met with last week, who although is not on the ministerial payroll at present, is an experienced pastor himself in his home country. Mum hadn't planned to talk to him about the week's events, but to her surprise learned that the Pastor had already contacted him twice, once before the group met and once after, to advise him to disassociate himself from our family or the group wouldn't be successful! He had to laugh at the absurd suggestion and told the Pastor in the nicest possible terms that he has his own mind and will come to his own conclusions about with whom he should associate with. He took pleasure in relaying the fact that we had experienced an extremely enjoyable and blessed Sabbath together and that a result, the group had decided to meet once a month at my Mum's place. He had been involved in the situation unnecessarily and discussed with Mum how we should proceed. My head was still hurting and to be honest, I didn't want to spoil the feeling of encouragement I had experienced in the service by revisiting such a negative topic of conversation. I decided to wait in the car and listened to some music, while reclining the passenger seat and shielding my face from the sun with my scarf.

After the conversation finished, we drove home and talked about things a little. We arrived back and Mum prepared some lunch, while Big Sis and I read some articles in the church magazine. To our surprise, we found a piece entitled 'Friendly Fire?' which talked about gossip, harsh words and character assassination, made all the worse when it comes, not from the enemy, but from the very people who you expect to be on your side. It mentioned that this is especially hurtful when it stems from a pastor or elder. We marvelled at the relevance to our situation, especially because, incredibly, the article was written by the very person whose position of authority within our church means that he may well have to deal personally with our own difficult and rather similar situation.

We ate a fantastic lunch and among other things enjoyed tomatoes fried with Greek basil, both harvested from Mum's own back garden. I ate heartily and felt the food coma start to set in, made worse by the fact that my eyes and head were still feeling extremely heavy. I can't even remember the last time I had a migraine this bad. I resigned myself to that fact that I needed to lie down and tried to sleep this off, taking more medication and then going upstairs to get in bed. I planned to sleep for an hour and then get up to watch a programme about prophecy that I try to catch every week. But my 'quick' nap ends up lasting 3 hours and when I eventually feel able to get up, it is about 7.00pm. I go back downstairs and Mum offers to massage my head. She rubs my shoulders and I suddenly find that my muscles are extremely painful from carrying heavy bags yesterday. Mum tries to ease out the tension and rubs my head and grips my hair. My head still feels foggy, but the massage helps a lot. We have a drink and listen to a concert online. It is steadily starting to get dark, so we close the Sabbath with a prayer and then Mum cuts up some melon, which we tuck into enthusiastically.

I am staying here tonight, but I go with Mum to take Big Sis home and we stop at the supermarket to pick up a couple of things I need. At the till, I find that my card isn't working. I have a moment of panic at the thought that my money must have already depleted so soon after pay day. My bills are higher than usual this month and I feel that familiar sinking feeling that this is going to be a lean month. We make our way to drop Big Sis home and then on the way back I realise that I don't have my scarf. I am sure I was wearing it in the supermarket. It's my favourite scarf and in addition to my sudden lack-of-cash induced depression I suddenly feel utterly miserable. I look inside the car, and am reassured by Mum that "maybe you left it at home," but I remember for sure that I had it round my neck in the shop and now it is nowhere to be seen. It seems like such a small thing to get upset about, but at the moment, the little things are helping to keep me sane. I try to call BFTP, but he was feeling exhausted earlier and I guess he is still out for the count. I try not to get frustrated that I can't get through to him and tell myself that it's stupid to be upset about a scarf, when he has much bigger things going on. I have a hot drink with the 'rents and then decide to go to bed. I watch an episode of CSI in bed, while trying to call BFTP a few more times, but after getting his voicemail I guess that his battery must have died. I realise that my migraine is not completely gone and know that I really should just try and sleep it off. It has been a weird old day and I am hoping that the new day and new week will bring new possibilities, new energy and new hope.

Window Into Your World

Late morning yesterday, I texted BFTP to apologise for not calling first thing, but to explain that I wasn't feeling too good and needed a bit of time to get my head together. I didn't know if he could text me back yet, but told him that if he needed me for anything, then he'd just have to contact me. The day seemed to go both slowly and quickly and I couldn't wait for hometime to arrive. I called BFTP at lunchtime but there was no reply. I get a text from him mid-afternoon explaining that he has been trying to text me since midnight, but his allowance has only just kicked in. He was at the barber's earlier and is very sorry he missed my call. He is worried about me and understands that I just need some time, but reminds me that he is still there for me whenever I need him. His text makes me feel a little better but I don't respond straight away. As the afternoon wears on, I am sort of feeling better and sort of not. I am glad that he can contact me now and don't feel as upset about it as I did in the morning, but I am still feeling a little low in general and now and then fight the desire to cry.

We agree to talk in the evening. After dinner with the 'rents, I call him. We talk a while and he asks me to read him my blog. We are a few days behind. Midway through, he is interrupted by his Mum, who is having a hard time with something. I can hear their conversation and I ask if he wants me to call him back, but he asks me to stay on the line. At first I start to get frustrated, feeling my free minutes tick away, being reminded yet again of conversations past, but I decide to be patient. I know the situation is worse for him, I know he doesn't want to involve me in the difficult things, but I know that he has to deal with them and I'd rather he didn't have to deal with them alone. When they finish talking, he says to me, "Welcome to my world." I feel guilty for my initial reaction, but very glad I didn't just get off the phone the way I was tempted to. The atmosphere is odd and I know that he feels helpless because there isn't much he can do about it. We decide to carry on where we left off and I read him Flashes of Light. He is amazed at how relevant it is to how he feels at that precise moment.

I don't really feel like reading much further, because I know it won't be easy for me to say or for him to hear, but we carry on anyway. I finish and I'm not sure how he is going to react. He says he feels like I had a window into his world earlier on and now he has a window into mine. He reassures me that nothing I have said is irrational or unreasonable. He tells me that if the situation was the other way around, he would feel exactly the same. We talk things through and for a change I seem able to express how I am feeling. The conversation becomes more light-hearted and things don't feel so heavy or serious. We finish our conversation feeling closer again, like we understand each other a little better. Occasionally, it feels like all the doors leading out of a situation are closed, but sometimes, a window is enough.

Past, Passed and Present

I am finding distance hard right now. My contact with BFTP this week hasn't been as consistent as perhaps either of us would have liked, but to be honest, the very fact that is has felt more sparse at times means that I have no real idea how he feels. He may feel that our contact has been fine.

For the later part of this week, I have had to initiate contact because BFTP's call and text allowance had run out. I didn't mind that, I had plenty of free minutes and it wasn't a big issue to me. But after a while, having to always initiate contact and know that if I sent a text I wouldn't get a reply was starting to wear me down. With the additional option of Skype being unavailable because his internet connection is down, it meant that for the time being, I could get a message to him, but when it came to responses, I was in no-man's-land.

It might seem like such a small thing, but I hadn't realised just how much it was starting to get to me. I called him on my way home last night after an evening out with friends, and he was in the middle of something and couldn't talk. It was nearing 11.00pm so I suggested we just catch up tomorrow. It was the most practical thing to do and it was my suggestion, but I still felt pissed off. I don't even know why. I hated myself for even thinking it, but for a second, I was starting to feel like I was back with NY Guy. I hate the fact that the thought even entered my head. I know that the situations are different. I know that BFTP isn't not contacting me because he doesn't want to. I know that it is important to him that things aren't one-sided. I know that he wants to make me happy. I know that he understands how important regular contact is. I know that he is as keen to try his hardest to make this distance easier for the both of us. I know that all of these things are completely different to how things were for me with NY Guy, because BFTP is a completely different person. The only problem is that my emotional reaction and the way it makes me feel at this precise moment, is pretty much the same. I am aware that perhaps I have an insecurity about this. I'm not sure if that's something that I already had, or something that developed as a result of my negative experiences with NY Guy, but I hate the feeling that I am being too keen, or that I need contact with a person more than they do. I really hate the thought of trying to contact someone and having them think, "Oh, it's her again." I really hate the feeling of being ignored.

I met up for dinner with my old workmates (including Lolly), aka The Sisterhood, last night. The honorary male sister has been in a weird break-up-get-back-together wasteland with his (ex) girlfriend for a few months. They had spent a couple of nights together last weekend and it seemed like they might get back together, but all of a sudden she was now ignoring his calls. He had gone from wanting to call her to apologise, to utter hatred of her expressed by an excess of expletives, in the space of a day or two. I could empathise. I told him that I understood that feeling of utter frustration when someone just won't talk to you. We agreed that it is childish, cruel and really hurtful. If you weren't angry about a situation to begin with, having someone purposely and continually ignore you will get you there. The trouble is, I am ashamed to admit that I have been on both sides of that equation and neither is fun. But when you are the person being ignored, I have to admit that it is much worse. I tried to offer him sympathy and advice and suggested that maybe he'd just have to leave her to it, until she decided that she wanted to talk to him. Constantly trying to contact her would probably make her even less likely to respond. I could see his utter hurt and frustration and for a second, I could remember being back there myself. Maybe that's what set this feeling off.

I remembered the occasions when NY Guy just disappeared on me and didn't do me the courtesy of even informing me, let alone offer an explanation. I remembered all the many times that I had to call him because he could never get his act together enough to sort out ways and means of calling me when he wasn't at work. I remember the fact that often I was calling because he had specifically asked me to, at a particular time, only to then find that he didn't even answer, or wasn't able to talk after all. I remember all the texts I had sent, knowing that he either couldn't or wouldn't bother to respond, or the disappointment I felt when I'd send him a message wishing him a nice weekend and saying I missed him, only to get a two-word reply like "Thanks baby," without any reciprocal sentiment. When I remember all these things I feel so stupid. I can't believe what I put up with. It makes me feel foolish and I wonder if I have an inexplicable attraction to unavailability, or maybe my self-esteem isn't healthy enough to tell me that I deserve better. When on the way home, BFTP wasn't able to talk to me, or even reply to my text wishing him goodnight, I realised that I was feeling I was starting to get to that point of not wanting to bother any more. I know deep down that it's not true, but I know that when I feel like this I start to get resentful and have to just remove myself from the situation, even temporarily, so that I can get rid of that feeling. The irony in all of this was that the other day, BFTP asked me if things were OK and if I minded the fact that we were speaking every day. I told him that I liked speaking to him. The thing with contact is, I'm more concerned about quality than quantity. I remember telling NY Guy that I wasn't happy with the contact we were having and him saying to me, "But we talk every day." What he never understood was that if I had the choice, I would have substituted those daily 5 or 10-minute chit-chat conversations here and there, often interrupted by work or circumstance, for a conversation once a fortnight, if it meant that we had quality time together and actually got to speak about things that were significant. I don't expect a 2-hour conversation every evening and I doubt that's a sustainable expectation even if I did. I don’t even mind not talking every day, although it is nice to at least check in with each other and exchange a text or two. What I really get frustrated with, is when talking with that person every day is solely reliant on me making the call.

I woke up late this morning. I was feeling incredibly sleepy and didn't much want to get out of bed. I had to rush a little to get ready, so I didn't really have time to call BFTP for our devotional. I realised, to my shame, that I didn't even really feel like it this morning. I thought about calling him when I was on the train, but I bumped into my old school friends who I quite often see on the same train as me. As I got closer to work, I knew that I wasn't in a very good frame of mind. I care about BFTP and know that he is still having a hard week. I wondered if I was being selfish and I hate the fact that I can be borderline spiteful when I am feeling upset or hurt or resentful. I was feeling low and close to tears and I didn't really want him to be unnecessarily affected by it. That's the other problem when you're the one who has to make the call. If you don't feel in the mood but have agreed to call them, it feels like you are just calling to make them share in your misery. I don't want to actively make the effort to ruin someone's day with my bad mood! Lol! He had reassured me that his call allowance would be renewed today, so I decided that if he wanted to contact me that badly, then he would. I am starting to feel low again and don't really want to talk to anyone.

I don't like that I am feeling this way again and I especially don't like feeling this way towards BFTP. I don't want to hurt his feelings, to be unfair, to add any pressure on to him when he is already dealing with enough. I hate the thought of him knowing that there is a really bad side to me, when he is such a lovely person and so patient and understanding. I hate that I am feeling hormonal but am seemingly unable to separate that from what is rational. I hate that I am still trying to work through some difficult issues and that as a result of that I sometimes have irrational reactions to things and want to lash out. I hate that I am feeling like it would be easier to just withdraw from everyone and be alone. So, I blog to get it out of my system and hope that I will be feeling better later. I know that I should probably at least text him, but I can't even bring myself to do that. I hate that most of what I am feeling isn't even really anything to do with him. I hate that as usual, I am unable to just express myself to the person that I need to, but am still either keeping things inside, or revealing them in writing, in my strange, indirect way of communication. I hate that I feel like I am slipping very slowly back down the slope I have been trying so hard to climb up and out of.

Speaker's Block

My dreams have been random, detailed and vivid, lately. They aren't especially positive. I keep dreaming about people at work, letting people down or annoying them, or getting upset about things I haven't perceived correctly. I'm not sure if my brain is just trying to make sense of all the emotional turbulence of the past week, or if I have other things floating around in my head that are worrying me, but there has been a lot of mental activity that is manifesting itself in the land of dreams. My dreams are nearly always depressingly realistic, or at least non-fantasy-like, so a situation that is far from perfect in real life rarely is any different when I dream. A colleague from a neighbouring department tells me he has printed out some information about me, that he keeps on his desk like some kind of stalker-like shrine. However, I do recall an old work mate telling me that she thought I was cool, and I bask for a second in the one moment of positivity in an otherwise bizarre dream.

After work yesterday, I decided to make a quick detour to Oxford Street before going home, to pick up a couple of things and buy some jeans that I have wanted to buy for a while. The weather was my least favourite - drizzling lightly and incredibly humid. I bought a birthday card for Big Sis, a couple of other little bits and then decided to pick up a little token present for BFTP. I got out some cash and then went to buy my jeans. By this time, it was raining a little harder and I was feeling really hot from walking at commuter speed down the street. I saw way too many things I wanted to buy and remembered why I haven't been window shopping for some time. I am loathe to leave things in the window and instead end up drafting them into my wardrobe. I wasn't sure which size would be right, so I took two and went to try them on. The changing rooms were warm, I was already feeling incredibly hot and was by now rocking the 'flustered' look in full force. Note to self: don't try on skinny jeans that contain only 1% elastane in humid weather. The jeans didn't have quite enough stretch. One size was an OK fit once I actually got them on, but was a little looser on the waist than I would have liked. The other size wouldn't even get to my hips. Not being able to tell whether this was down to either heat or size resistance, I gave up. No item of clothing should be so much work to get on that you drop a dress size from all the exertion. I leave the changing rooms, find some slightly different jeans and ponder the thought of trying them on. I decide against it. I am sweating like a biatch. This is not my most glamorous look. About to leave, I spy a really nice fitted suit jacket that is a tiny bit Westwood-esque and try it on. Me likey. I end up buying it on a whim. It's an investment purchase, I reason. I can wear it to church and even work if necessary. I can't wear jeans to work in any case. Hmm, that's a good enough case, isn't it? I am clearly bad and must be stopped.

By now the rain is coming down faster, but is still very fine. The humidity has not decreased, but I decide to brave the tube as it will be loads quicker than the bus. At the station, I stop to grab a salad for dinner and get the train home. I greet Big Sis when I get there and give her another birthday hug and her card. She is marking her special occasion by spending a thrilling evening on the phone to the customer service line of our new internet provider. The modem works, the wireless works; my laptop can connect to the internet no trouble. But the PC that the modem is actually connected to, can't. Very bizarre. I have a quick chat with her and Bro-in-Law and then look at her birthday cards. Then I retire upstairs to get out of my clothes, which now feel incredibly sticky and uncomfortable.

I called BFTP a couple of times throughout the evening, but received no answer. His trip to get a repeat prescription for his medication had turned into a full-blown mission that had lasted most of the night, meaning he hadn't got home until ridiculous o'clock (or approximately 4.30am). He had been sleeping all day and I assumed that he was still knocked for six, which to be honest was probably a good thing. He has had a severe lack of sleep over the past week, his body has been trying to heal and he has experienced a spectrum of emotions, which can really take it out of you. Thinking he was tucked up safely in bed and would be for the rest of the night, I ate my dinner, got ready for bed and watched some TV. I get a call from him at about 10.00pm. His day of sleep has obviously had the desired effect and he sounds wide awake. He knows that I have written a lot about the past few days' activities and asks if I will read him some of my blog.

As I read, it is nice to remember some of what has happened. He says that because of the distance, he obviously isn't around when lots of things are happening, but when I read about it, he is transported there. He likes it. Some of the things I read are difficult to share aloud. Some of what I have written includes things that he didn't know, or feelings that he was unaware of. Some of what I read is hard for him to listen to. But he tells me that it is all honest and that we can't hate the truth. I say that I suppose we can, but hating it doesn't change it from being true. After quite a while of reading, he has to go to meet his friend. We talk a little and he tells me that he is realising how important this medium of expression I have is to us, or at least to him. In some ways, I feel like a bit of an oddball, that I am unable in some situations to just tell someone how I feel verbally, without finding it difficult. I ponder just how bizarre this makes me and feel a little embarrassed at the fact that he is so patient with and accepting of my weirdness.

During our conversation, I realise that in these situations, I don't process my thoughts very quickly. My emotional reaction may be immediate, but I don't always fully understand at that moment what it is I feel, or why. We might be having a discussion about something and I will react emotionally to a particular comment or opinion by going quiet, or wanting to withdraw. I will feel upset, but I can't always express exactly why at that precise moment. I need to go away and process the emotion and understand what I am feeling before I can adequately express and explain it to someone else. I realise that to others this would be perceived as a very delayed reaction. I suddenly remember times where I have wanted to say to someone, "Remember yesterday, when we were talking and I went all quiet/got irritated/decided I didn't want to talk to you anymore? I know what happened now. I was feeling like this…". It's an odd epiphany, but amusingly fits with the behaviour I have only just identified. I act in a particular way and only years later do I actually realise and understand why. I explain this to BFTP. He says it is something that he is just going to have to be patient with and adapt to, because it's a new situation for him. He doesn't make me feel weird or silly, he is always very understanding and seemingly willing to change his own reactions to make things work. But I still feel a little odd within myself. I don't know why I have this inability to just speak my mind sometimes. I am getting better at it, but it's still a little hit-and-miss. It can still require a lot of effort to do it and so is often either rather more blunt and less tactful in its delivery than I would like, or isn't concise and clear enough and instead ends up coming across as unimportant or vague. I never imagined that expression would be one of my issues. But then I suppose I never imagined things turning out the way they have, at all.

Happy Birthday, Big Sis

It is Big Sis' birthday today! She is very old. Just kidding! I'm just jealous because everyone thinks I'm the older one. I like to think it's because of my mature demeanour and aura of wisdom, not because I look high mileage, lol.

None of us have much money to celebrate, but I have put together some pennies to get her a present. I think she will like it. I gave her a big hug this morning, partly on behalf of BFTP at his request, and hoped that this would distract her enough that she wouldn't notice I had forgotten to buy her a card on the way home yesterday. I blame my appetite's vengeful return and the consequent detour in search of chips. Hopefully, a card this evening and the present (which I have already warned may not arrive today - mail order and especially eBay is not always that reliable) will make up for my shocking oversight.

Happy Birthday Big Sis!!! I hope that the coming year is an eventful, blessed, productive and joyful one for you.

Flashes of Light

It's hard, trying to function in the dark. If you are in very familiar surroundings, perhaps the darkness doesn't impede you as much as it would do otherwise. You know where things are, you know what to expect, you can find your way around more or less, albeit a little slower or more carefully than you would do normally. However, when you are plunged into darkness in surroundings that are completely unknown, or situations for which you have no precedent to base your action on, functioning effectively is much more difficult. It is virtually impossible to even work out where you are, or what to anticipate, both of which you need to do before you can make any sort of progress or even plan to get yourself out of there. Often, in situations where you don't know what to do, it can serve you well to just be still and take some time to assess things while gathering your resolve together, before making any decisions or taking any rash or potentially unwise course of action. But at times, even standing still can be difficult. Without any real sense of what is around you, and what the potential threats or aids could be, standing still requires both patience and faith that sooner or later, things will become clearer.

When you seem to be surrounded by darkness and are consumed with the confusion of not being able to see exactly what you are facing, what your surroundings are, which direction you are headed in, or even why you have been plunged into darkness in the first place, it is easy to get discouraged. Often, our first request is for God to take us out of the situation completely, or failing that, to put all the lights back on and reveal exactly what His purpose or plan is. However, God doesn't always do this, if at all. Sometimes, we are not ready to know exactly what His plan or purpose is. Sometimes, we won't quite understand. Sometimes, it is best for us that we don't know in advance. Sometimes, it is just not the right time. But although God doesn't necessarily reveal all the details to us in one go, at times He will simply allow us a flash of lightning, which illuminates our surroundings just enough, so that our immediate situation makes sense to us. We catch a glimpse of what is around us and where we are, not necessarily in great detail, or even for a significant amount of time. But we see just enough to enable us to deal with that present moment and remember that God is in control.

Breathe and Reboot

Lamentations 3:22-23 [NIV]

22 Because of the LORD's great love we are not consumed,
for His compassions never fail.

23 They are new every morning;
great is Your faithfulness.

I am so glad that God's mercy and love towards us is renewed at the start of each new day. Sometimes, things seem so insurmountably difficult and all around appears to be bleak, but a new day can bring new hope, new strength and a fresh batch of renewed energy. As King David said, "Weeping may endure for a night, But joy comes in the morning." [Psalms 30:5, NKJV]

During the past couple of days, everything has felt fraught and I have been experiencing waves of anxiety. On the outside, I tried to maintain the appearance of the graceful swan, but just below the water's surface, I was paddling furiously to keep afloat. The end of the day came, and I realised I felt completely exhausted. After my difficulty getting to sleep the previous night and all the various emotions I had experienced in those 24 hours, I realised I was feeling rather drained. I also had the pre-menstrual munchies like a mofo and had eaten way too much sugar in too short a space of time. I couldn't wait to get home, but still made a stop before catching my train to pick up some fries from BK to satisfy the craving I was experiencing. My phone battery was very low and I kept checking my phone at intervals, waiting for some news from BFTP, and wondering if the lack of it was an indication that the news was too bad for him to relay. On the bus, he called me. He sounded much cheerier than earlier, but the news was neither good nor bad. The condition of his eye hadn't really changed since Saturday. He has to continue with all the medicated eye drops and go back in a week. "No news is good news," I offered, truthfully feeling that even though it wasn't over, this was better than what we had feared, but hoping the cliché didn't sound hollow. He sounded relatively positive although I couldn't really tell exactly what he was feeling. We agreed to talk when I got home. I felt relieved that we had a week of respite. Of sorts.

When I was on the train, Lolly sent me a lovely text to check that I was OK and see if there was any news. She apologised for being stressed because of her last week in her current job and promised she would be more fun next week. I was amused by her perception of things, when she had been nothing but good company over the weekend, and was continuing to be encouraging and supportive, despite her own situation. I was thankful for her thoughtfulness. I got home and resolved to eat half the Galia melon we had in the fridge by way of dinner, as my excess of sugar and junk food was starting to take its toll. Big Sis wasn't home yet, so I had a quick chat with Bro-in-Law before retreating to my room. Feeling a little cold and just plain shattered, I changed out of my work clothes and into pyjamas and got into bed. I called Dad and he told me that Mum and Big Sis had just left. We had a brief chat and then I ate some melon while half-watching an old episode of Monk.

A little later they arrived back. Big Sis went to get herself some food and Mum came to my room to tell me the latest. She got into bed with me and talked about what had been discussed with our friend. He was very supportive towards us and mentioned a few other recent instances that showed we were not alone in our experience. Mum seemed much less stressed about everything. Big Sis came upstairs to join the conversation and we talked things over. I proof-read the letter she had written in response and agreed that it was respectful and well-written and that I was happy for it to be sent on my behalf as well as from her. Everyone's spirits seemed to have been lifted. The anger, hurt and upset had dissipated and was replaced by new determination, fresh resolve and encouragement, but all tinged by slight sadness at the situation.

Mum asked if there was any news about BFTP and I told her that things were the same, but that for now that was a good thing. We continued to talk until Mum decided to head home just after 9.30pm, not before nicking a couple a roses from the garden on her way out. :o) Things felt calm again and I was relieved. BFTP and I had a chat before I went to bed. He was on a mission to get a prescription for more of his eye medication, which hadn't been provided by the hospital. He was having to go all over town to get the necessary authorisation and then find a pharmacy that was open after 11.00pm. We spoke and it felt good to just chat again. There are still so many things to discuss and there are on-going challenges to face, but I think we just needed to enjoy the brief sense of relief that things were OK for the moment. We laughed about something and he commented that it felt like ages since we had just cracked up and had a giggle about things. Who knows what tomorrow might bring? Today we breathe, reboot and hope our systems don't crash again any time too soon.

Strong and Not So

I called BFTP at lunchtime. We had exchanged a few texts after talking on my way to work and I decided to call for a quick chat to get him psyched up for his eye appointment, which was at 4.00pm. I call him and we talk. I haven't really told him what has been going on with me, or how I have been feeling. I remember the sense of barely coping with your own emotions, never mind taking on anyone else's, so I don't want to add to what he is already burdened with. But when he asks what has been happening, I somehow end up virtually talking at him for 30 minutes, explaining the back story and how things have seemingly grown from molehill to mountain in the space of a day. His battery cuts out (probably because of my epic tale) and he calls me back a few minutes later. He is understanding and doesn't try to give me solutions, which I don't expect him to. I tell him that I don't want him to spend any of his energy on trying to help me, but that I just wanted him to know why I am finding things so hard at the moment. He is glad I have told him.

We talk about his imminent eye appointment. He has been told that if he loses his sight, he will also lose his eye. They will have to remove it. He is very worried about that and the impact it will have on him emotionally, as well as the potential impact it could have on us and our relationship, which in some ways hasn't even really begun. I don't know how either of us will feel if the worst happens, but it's one of those things that I feel I won't really know for sure until I am there. All I know is that I would much rather go through all this with him, than have us deal with our respective problems individually. I feel like what we have and potentially could have is very positive and it feels like there are forces against us trying very hard to stop that from happening. It makes me believe that we need each other more than ever. Things may be completely different for us in a week, a month or a year, but all I know is how I feel at this precise moment. I try to reassure him and wish I could be there to face all of this with him in person.

We have been speaking for an hour and I have to get back to work. I ask that he will at least keep me informed. He warns me that if the news is bad, he may find it very difficult to talk about it and even to tell me what is going on. He promises that he will try his hardest to do what is best for us both and that he won't shut me out. I tell him that even if he just texts me to tell me that he needs time on his own before he can talk about it, then that's at least better than nothing. I am feeling as positive as I can do and am having faith that things will be OK. He needs someone to be strong for him for a change.

When we get off the phone, my sense of calm seems to dissipate slightly. I am thinking about him and feeling troubled and anxious about how things will go. I pray silently, but even then I can't focus enough to really articulate what I want to say in my head. I ask God to make sense of what is in my heart. I talk to my workmates and am cheered up by Miss T covertly offering me half of her iced currant bun. She offers it via email, to avoid making our other workmates jealous, since she only has one. I ask why she can't eat it all, when I know she has been saving it since this morning. She went swimming at lunchtime and doesn't want to undo all her hard work. I smile. Well, if I am helping out a friend. She discreetly brings half the bun over to my desk and we email back and forth a few "Mmm, that was good" and "Yum!" messages.

It distracts me, but only temporarily. I check my emails and texts and find out that Big Sis is at the rents' so she can be with Mum when they meet with our church friend about the letter. She has left for work but came home because she wasn't feeling well. I think this is really troubling her and I am worried about that. I am hoping that they are all OK and that the meeting will be productive and reassuring. I cannot wait to get home. The only trouble is, the problems will still be around when I get there.

Under Attack

The afternoon dragged like you can't imagine. I had to stay at work a little late to make up for the time I had lost by getting in late. Everyone else on my team had left for the day and so had pretty much every other person in my part of the office. I hate the feeling of being left behind when you desperately want to go home too. I still feel troubled and unsettled and a little stressed. I decide to go to Boots on the way home, to pick up supplies for the month and maybe buy some of my perfume, which has run out, in the hope that this might cheer me up a little. I am starting to feel low and have that familiar feeling of lethargy and unenthusiasm creeping in to fog my mind.

I leave work and go and get my supplies. They don't have my perfume. I still manage to spend an amount of money that seems terribly disproportionate to the actual number of items purchased. I head home, stopping on the way to buy strawberry tarts to have for dessert. I am aware I am comfort shopping. I need to get home before I do any more damage. The train journey feels incredibly long, made worse by my feeling of restlessness. When I get home, I have a quick chat to Big Sis. I can tell she is still not feeling completely happy and feel bad that I don't feel like I have enough emotional strength to lift myself up, let alone her too. She tells me that our internet is still not set up and that she feels like she can't do anything without it! What did we ever do before the virtual world was available at our fingertips?? Lived in the real world, I suppose. :o) She can tell something is wrong but I say I don’t really want to talk about it. I get myself some dinner and can feel that my hunger is adding exponentially to my irritability. I decide to eat upstairs while watching some CSI on my laptop. I suddenly realise that of course I can't, because the internet is down. Grrrrr!!!

I watch some TV but it doesn't register. I eat some dinner, but not even halfway through I lose my appetite. I am wondering if I will hear from BFTP and really want to talk to him, but hate the feeling that I am chasing him for contact which he might not actually want. I know that this is partly to do with previous experience and not completely to do with him, but I can't bring myself to initiate contact. Maybe it is pride, maybe it is the feeling of vulnerability, maybe I just don't want to get no answer and feel that familiar sense of rejection. I start to wonder if I am always going to be in relationships in which I am always available, but where that availability is not reciprocated in the same way. I am conscious that I have felt this feeling before, of really wanting to reach out, but feeling like I can't because I am reluctant to add anything to what the other person is going through. I feel a little bit shut out, and while I understand that need for space, I perceive it as compounding the physical distance between us by adding emotional distance too.

I feel lost without being able to go online. I don't feel like watching or reading anything, but don't feel content just being. I put on some music and just lay on my bed. It is 8.30pm. This seems to be the hour that tiredness kicks in lately. I lie down for a while and then decide I will have a bath. When I am finished, I check my phone but still have no messages. I am a little worried about him, but am also feeling incredibly alone. I get ready for bed and try to find something on TV to distract me. Not much is working. It is after 11pm. I eventually cave in and text him. I write a message that doesn't necessarily require a reply, even though I desperately want one. It doesn't come. I feel really restless and am finding this much harder than I thought. I am worrying about everything that is going on and wish he could be there for me too, even though he doesn't know what I am dealing with. I just want to know that the option to talk to him is still there, but it doesn't feel like it is. I turn the TV and lights off and try to go to sleep. I can't. A little bit later, I send another text asking that if he is still awake, that he texts to just let me know he's OK. I just want a reply. He responds and says that he is still finding things really difficult and is praying hard. I am still on his mind. Knowing that he is awake and feeling anxious where he is makes me feel worse. I am unable to relax and still can't sleep. I decide to take some Night Nurse, even though I don't want to be using any more medication. I have learned from my previous Night Nurse hangovers and only take one capsule this time. I text BFTP and tell him that I can't sleep knowing that he is struggling on his own. I tell him that I am going through this with him and that I am praying where I am, to reassure him that he is not alone. He responds by telling me that he doesn't have much to say in his current mindframe, but that he is not ignoring me, so if I want to call him, I can. It's feels as though he is obliged to say that and I don't get the sense that he really does want to talk. I am frustrated that this situation might be working for him, but feels like it is making everything worse for me. I feel incredibly restless and start to cry.

I talk to God, but I don't even know exactly what to say. I ask Him to forgive me for feeling so negative all day. I ask Him to be with BFTP and his family and to remove any negative influences from around them. I ask Him to surround them with His love and give them the peace and assurance they need in their hearts and minds. I ask Him to grant each one of us the wisdom we need to know how to deal with this situation. I ask God to continue to heal BFTP's eye, because He has promised to give us whatever we ask of Him in Christ's name. I still find it hard to focus or think clearly and I still don't feel drowsy enough to sleep. I remember that when you feel discouraged, it's best not to dwell on how bad you are, but on how good God is. I decide to put on some music and find my favourite Christian album. All the songs are about encouragement and are uplifting. I lay in the dark and sing my heart out as quietly as possible, not wanting to wake Big Sis and Bro-in-Law. Already I feel like my spirit is lighter. I am still not completely sleepy and listen to the album the whole way through. I get choked at times and cry through the frustration as I feel it leave me. It is replaced by a slight feeling of relief. I pray some more and when the album finishes, I try to sleep.

I sleep a little too well and by mistake turn my alarm off instead of snoozing it. I finally wake and it is after 8am. I am still feeling groggy and incapable of getting organised quickly. I am going to be late. Big Sis is also running late and is still here. She hasn't been sleeping well either. I am barely able to talk. We get ready, but I can't get it together today. She goes on ahead of me and catches the train I really should have caught. When I finally get ready, I walk to the station and check my phone at intervals. Usually, BFTP and I would have started the day together with our devotional. We haven't done that for a few days. It feels like ages. I read the devotional on my own and then listen to some music. I close my eyes for most of the train journey. I decide to text BFTP but I don't know what to say. He is supposed to be going back to the eye clinic today and I don't know how he feels about it, or how his eye is. I simply tell him that I hope things go well today. He texts back a bit later and asks if I will call him when I can. He wants to talk to me and pray together. I get off the train and only just miss a bus. I decide to call him.

He prays and we talk. He explains where his mind is at and that he feels like he can't cope. He doesn't know what to do and wants to know what I did when I felt like this. We talk for a while and I explain that it feels like he has shut me out in order to try and protect me, even though he needs me. I say that I feel pushed away and that if I feel worse and he feels worse by us not being in contact, then what purpose is it serving? I tell him that we need each other more than ever. He is worrying about present things and future plans and I tell him that all he needs to do is get through each day. God will take care of the rest. There is no point panicking about how we will deal with next month, when this afternoon looms large and we don't know how to cope with that. It is each day at a time and I remember that feeling well. I explain what I know from my own experience and reassure him that things do get better, but that you have to take it one step at a time. I know that I only got through my own difficulties with having people who were there for me that I could talk to and one of those people was him. I want to be there for him in return and tell him that he doesn't need to deal with any of this on his own.

I am already at work, but wait outside my office while we finish the conversation. He sounds like he feels a little bit calmer, and we agree to talk later today. He tells me that I can call him whenever I need him. If he is feeling unable to help then he will tell me, but he won't shut me out. I tell him that he can do the same, that he can call or text me, even if he doesn't really know what to say, but just needs some contact. After we get off the phone, I get in to work and am a little late again. I really need to get it together in the mornings. I still feel a little fuzzy-headed, but am relieved that we have talked things through and that we don't feel as distant as we had done.

I read my emails and amidst the various work issues, there are emails from my Mum. She still sounds stressed about the situation with the letter and doesn't really know quite what to do, although Big Sis has already drafted a reply. Dad is also quite angry about the situation and it takes quite a lot to upset his calm demeanour. Mum and Dad at least managed to go out to dinner together at one of our favourite Chinese restaurants for an anniversary meal. I am glad that they spent some time together and weren't dwelling on this completely all day. One of our friends from that group has been concerned about us and our non-attendance and Mum has explained the situation to him. He is also troubled by the situation and is apparently going to visit her in person today to talk about it. Mum sounds encouraged by that. I am feeling extremely sad that things seem to have gotten so out of hand, for no apparent reason. It really feels like we are under attack at the moment and it's hard trying to prevent it from affecting us. I wish I didn't have to be at work, because I can't seem to concentrate on anything and am distracted and drained. I am counting down till the long Bank holiday weekend. I can't wait for next week when I have booked some time off. It can't come quick enough.

Monday Melancholy

I woke up feeling relatively good. I had slept well, even though I had weird dreams again, partly at the fault of us watching crime dramas before we went to sleep. I also dreamt of The Ex's family and his nephews that I haven't seen since we broke up more than 3 years ago, and it made me feel a little wistful. I ponder whether to call BFTP for our devotional, but decide against it. I think he probably just needs the sleep and I am not really awake yet. I snooze my alarm for half an hour and go to make Lolly and me some tea. We miss our chance in the bathroom, so end up staying in bed for a bit until Bro-in-Law and Big Sis are finished. We get ready and our earlier plans to get the 8.30am train seem unrealistic. We aim for the 9.00am train instead and take our time getting dressed and made up, lamenting our unruly hair and non-cooperative skin. We catch a bit of Maury while we wait and laugh at the immortal "You are not the father" line. We listen to a bit of radio and then make our way downstairs. We hug Big Sis goodbye and then walk to the station.

The 9.01 train is delayed until 9.06. This seems to happen way too often, despite the train service proudly announcing on screens at Victoria station that 94% of its trains have run on time this year. Either their understanding of the term 'on time' is extremely broad, or I must always happen to get on the 6% of trains that run late. There are 'signalling problems' apparently. I am so glad Lolly is with me. We chat and laugh and try to make the time go quicker. When I next check the display, the train is now expected at 9.16. The next train would normally be 9.16. I sigh and wonder why this always seems to happen on a Monday. They announce there are emergency engineering works. What happened to the signalling problems? I think they are just using whatever excuse happens to be pre-recorded. The voice keeps telling us he is "sorry for the delay to this service." He doesn't sound sorry enough for my liking. By the time the train actually rocks up, it is 9.24. My sunny mood has nearly disappeared and I am suddenly feeling verrrrry Monday. I text my boss to tell her I will be late. It's not much of an notification, it's most days at the moment.

The train takes ages and we get to the final station nearly an hour after leaving my house. I am losing the will to work. Lolly and I hug and part company and I get to my bus stop to find I have just missed a bus. I hold in the urge to roar like the Hulk. I decide to call BFTP. No answer. This is becoming a trend. I realise that he might be asleep since it's not one of his scheduled eye-drop o'clocks, if he's even sticking to them. I feel a bit bad. A bus arrives a few minutes later. I get to work and Miss T laughs at the expression of utter disdain I am wearing. I have only just sat down and have to deal with a query regarding someone's tuition fees. The day has begun. We discuss our plans for Payday Pizza, which we haven't had in a while. I am so thankful we got paid today and I actually have access to money again. I go through my emails and see one from the Office Manager informing us that the internal positions are being re-advertised for an extra few weeks. I am in luck. I can apply for the position I missed out on after all. This may be a good sign.

Meanwhile, I read a few emails that I have been copied in to between Big Sis and Mum and some other involved people regarding the letter we received. I have to do a thing or two for my Mum and need to scan something in and email to her. I get a text from Big Sis saying our internet at home is down because we are migrating service provider today and it could be midnight before our internet is back on. So she can't send anything from home for the time being. It sounds like my Mum is quite stressed and I am upset about that. It is my parents' wedding anniversary today and Big Sis' birthday on Wednesday. I am trying not to be annoyed about the fact that these two happy events are overshadowed by this cloud.

A little bit later I get a text from BFTP. He knows I have tried to call him and doesn't want me to think he is ignoring me. He is struggling to cope at the moment and needs some time to think things over and ask God for answers. I have a tiny moment of panic. I have been here before. I respect and understand the desire and need for space, but I am scared that he is going to shut me out completely. I also feel frustrated that I have other things on my mind but am trying to be strong for him. He doesn't know that anything else is going on with me and I don't want to tell him right now. He has more than enough to worry about. I just wish that things weren't all happening at once. I tell him that I understand but ask if he is asking me to leave him alone until further notice. If so, I am going to find that hard, but I will understand if that is what he needs. He says that I have misunderstood. He wants to talk to me later, he just needs some time today. He didn't want me to think he was not contacting me for any other reason, or that he was ignoring me. He doesn't want to make things more difficult for me, that is the last thing he wants to do. I am relieved that he isn't taking a hiatus from us. I don't necessarily need him to take on what I am dealing with, but just knowing I can contact him is all I need right now.

Everything is happening at once and I know that it's really important that I don't let this get me down. Life seems to be reduced to utter chaos around me. I am thankful that this is happening now and not a few months ago, when I know it could really have had a detrimental effect on my mental health. It's easy to talk about having faith and trusting God. It's easy to talk about showing love and respect to other people, especially when they treat you in a way that is unfair. The hard part is putting it into practice.

Lazy, Crazy Sunday

My alarm goes off at 10.30am. Lolly and I laze around for a while as we slowly wake up. BFTP has a packed schedule of his various eye-drops and medication that have to be taken at particular intervals - 5, 6, 7, 11, 12 and 3 - around the clock. Not wanting to call him at any time when he could be sleeping in between eye-drops, I go downstairs at 11am to make me and Lolly some tea and give him a call. He doesn't answer. Big Sis asks to borrow my laptop so that she can start drafting a reply to the letter we received. I go to make the tea and realise that there isn't much milk left and that we have no bread for toast, so I leg it to the shops and come back feeling really hot. The sun is already blazing and it's not even midday. I call BFTP again, but there is still no answer. He sends me a text a bit later telling me that he is in the middle of some drama at home and that he will talk to me later, but asking that I pray for him. I am concerned, but tell him that I will.

In the meantime, Lolly and I drink our tea and watch the longest episode of Futurama that we have ever seen. We both are dying for the loo but are compelled to stay watching just to find out how it ends. It's a slight anti-climax, but it does give us a few lines that we will no doubt edit, re-use and make our own. The Mrs calls me, forgetting that Lolly is staying over. She thinks I am on my own and is concerned about me, so just wants to check I am OK. I assure her that I am and that I have company, which is helping. She is having a barbeque with her Boy and some friends and is in good spirits. I am pleased that she sounds happy. We sign off and she tells me to call her if I need her. Lolly and I watch the first episode of the X-Factor and cringe at just how bad some auditionees are. I go and make toast, with marmalade for me and strawberry jam for Lolly. We have more tea. I get a text from BFTP a bit later, asking me to call. His sister is in a bad way emotionally. He is upset and has been rushing around all morning trying to sort things out. He has had to drive to a neighbouring city to pick up his sister, but they haven't been able to see her yet. I don't know what to say and feel helpless that I am not there and can't really do anything tangible. I ask if he has been taking his medication and he says no. He didn't know how long he would end up being out and had left it at home. I am angry and upset, but try not to let it show too much. I am concerned that he is still having to look after others, as is his way, when he really needs to be looking after himself. I am annoyed that seemingly, amidst all the worrying about his sister, no-one has stopped to worry about him. I know that I don't know all the details and don't want to be angry at anyone, but I am very concerned for him and the fact that just yesterday he was told that his eye could just deteriorate without warning, but that he has now missed several doses of the eye-drops that could potentially prevent this. I am also concerned that he is so upset and is dealing with such a difficult situation on his own, because he is used to taking responsibility for such things and being there for his family. I am upset for him that the person who should be taking responsibility for this hasn't done in the past and continues to not do so. I keep most of these thoughts in my head and just try to be calm and reassuring as much as possible. I am worried for him, worried for his sister and feel utterly helpless. He says he will text me later to keep me updated but thanks me for being there. I wish there was more I could do.

After we get off the phone, I pray. I go back upstairs and tell Lisa that things aren’t good, but try not to let the things troubling me affect the atmosphere. We talk and watch some more TV. I go to check on Big Sis because I will need my laptop to order dinner for me and Lolly. She is still writing and has been exchanging emails back and forth with some friends and Mum all day. She is still very upset. I tell her I am sorry that I am not very involved and can't spend much time with her. I don't tell her about BFTP, but say that I am worrying about him, but also I don't want to involve Lolly or leave her on her own when she has come to visit me. I read through what Big Sis has written and make some suggestions. We discuss things and then I go back to Lolly so that we can order food. It has been really hot and sunny all day and we moan like old ladies that there isn't enough breeze and that it is too hot for a lazy Sunday indoors.

Big Sis and Bro-in-Law decide to go to the park for a bit and so Lolly and I get settled in the living room while we wait for our pizza. Once it arrives, we realise just how hungry we are and get stuck in to the chicken strippers (no, not hens that take their clothes off for a living), potato wedges and the spicy beef thin crust. We watch more Monk, but lose concentration as the food coma sets in and our 'pizza babies' gestate. Big Sis and Bro-in-Law arrive back laden with Chinese food and for a second we smell the aroma and think we can eat more. We retire upstairs and realise we could probably go to sleep, even though it is only about 8.30pm. Lolly washes her hair and I try not to succumb to the drowsiness. When she is finished, I have a bath and realise I am almost too tired to wash. I take ages and then return to find that Lolly is fighting the tiredness too. She has woken up mid-episode of Monk to find that he has been arrested, is on the run and she has no idea why. I get ready for bed and get a text from BFTP. He is back at home and his sister is with him. He is going to get an early night. I am relieved, but am still feeling a little worried about him and discontent at the thought that things are still not completely resolved. Lolly and I are ready for bed and turn the lights out to sleep at 11pm. This is not only early for me, but very early for us when she stays over. We have done absolutely nothing all day, but emotionally I am feeling rather worn out.

Bitter Aftertaste

We are pretty much ready to leave, when Big Sis mentions the letter that was delivered. She is curious about what is says and what it is about. I am tempted to stay in blissful ignorance. She reads it, then passes it to Mum. I don't really want to know, but am too curious to resist, based on their reactions. The Pastor of the church group we had previously been attending believes we are starting our own worship group and launches a number of false assumptions and accusations on our family. We are in shock. We have stopped attending that group for many reasons, and slightly different ones for each of us. I had found that I wasn't really enjoying going there. It was a new group and there were understandably a few teething problems, but after too many misunderstandings, problems with disorganisation and feeling like the general atmosphere and leadership of the group was starting to be detrimental to my own spiritual experience, I made the personal decision to go elsewhere. Mum and Big Sis had similar and slightly different reasons, but Dad had never really felt comfortable in the group and had therefore rarely attended with us.

Because the group was so local to where my parents live, we had thought it was right to persevere because we wanted to be involved in a group that had a connection to the local community. We like the other people in the group and have recently had contact with some of them who wanted to check we were OK and wondered why we hadn’t been attending. But overall, and after a number of experiences of the Pastor's method of communication which I personally found confrontational, rather intimidating and borderline aggressive at times, it just wasn't a place where we really felt either at home, or able to get involved to the best of our ability. Sometimes the best action to take in a situation is to just remove yourself from it. I have been struggling enough this year as it is. It was hard enough to try and remain enthusiastic about normal situations when feeling depressed, but trying to persevere with ones that were difficult, especially ones that I knew I didn't have to put up with, was really hard. Finally making the decision to remove myself from that situation was not easy, but was necessary for me. I know my family felt the same. We have had a lovely few weeks attending a church which we felt was more worshipful and that we were better suited to and haven't attended that group for several weeks. To then get a letter with such hurtful and, more to the point, inaccurate statements in it, was so out of the blue and really upsetting.

I was almost annoyed that we had opened it then, after having such a spiritually restful day. It left us with a bitter aftertaste to a day that had otherwise been sweet. We discussed what to do about it, but I brushed it off slightly in my mind, knowing that I already had enough worrying things taking up space in there. We leave and I get home just in time to meet Lolly at the station. We get home, have a drink, get in comfy clothes and then chat for a while. I speak to Big Sis later and hadn't realised how much this latest episode has affected her. She is very upset by it and is feeling discouraged. She asks if we can pray about it. We do and she is very visibly upset. We hug and I try to reassure her and tell her not to let it upset her too much. I hadn't realised the effect was so great and am trying not to get discouraged myself. I have other things on my mind and also don't want to be bad company for Lolly. After talking for a bit and realising we need food, we decide to order a curry from the corner, while Big Sis and Bro-in-Law end up watching a film. They tease me when they realise I have asked them to deliver our curry the 2-minute walk to our house. "I'm not dressed!" I say, in my defence. "I've spent 20 quid, they can walk it round to me!" They laugh, but the delivery man doesn't seem bothered, is extremely smiley and wishes me a lovely evening, even before I slip him the only quid I have left in change. Half an hour later, Lolly and I watch some Monk, eat our curries and congratulate ourselves on the sterling choice of cuisine for the evening. It tastes good, but for me it doesn't completely eradicate the bitter aftertaste from the day's proceedings.

Friends, Food and Fellowship

Saturday morning comes and I call him for our devotional. We read and pray before going to get ready for our respective days. He is going back to the eye clinic that morning to see if things have improved. I go downstairs and help my Mum with a few things. I make some tea and decide I am more than ready for some of the toast my Dad has made and kept in the grill to keep warm. My appetite seems to be back with a vengeance. I eat four slices of toast with marmalade and drink my tea. Big Sis has arrived and we sit and chat while Mum sorts out some things in the kitchen.

Today we are joining a meeting organised by a small church group that has originated from the church we have most been attending recently. Mum has invited them to her house for lunch, so to make things easier, she decides to hire the little community hall that is opposite her house for the church meeting. That way, there will be enough room for everyone, we won't disturb our neighbours with any singing and the group won't have to travel far for lunch! Mum mentions that she has something to tell us, but that she had been reluctant to, in case we felt discouraged. She says that in the week, she received a message from the Pastor of the small church group we used to attend. We had experienced a number of various communication problems with him over the space of a year or more, and for this and other reasons we had decided that it would be better for us all if we didn't attend there any longer, and haven't done for a few months now. The message says that he has heard we have hired a hall for our own group and that Mum must contact him as a matter of urgency. Mum hasn't contacted him, but wonders if he might turn up. We talk about it, and are glad we are aware of the situation, but we continue on with the day.

We get ready but I am a bit slow this morning. Mum and Big Sis get ready before me, so they go on ahead. I amble over the road about 15 minutes later. Everyone is introducing themselves and explaining a bit about their respective backgrounds. It is interesting to learn more about the others, who I don't know particularly well, but already feel comfortable with. We have a Bible study and discussion, which is really interesting. We talk about loving each other as brothers and sisters and how this sort of love for others, our enemies even, that Christ talks about doesn't come to us naturally, but has to be imparted to us from God.

After the discussion, we have a quick break and I call BFTP to see how things are. He tells me that the news isn't especially good or bad. They have checked his eye and their first reactions were good. However, it is checked by another doctor and his reaction is far from it. They tell him that it could either be still infected with bacteria which will hopefully clear up with further medication, or it could still deteriorate and his sight in that eye could go unexpectedly. He is given even more eye-drops, of different kinds, and has to go back on Tuesday. If anything at all changes in the meantime, he has to go back immediately. We were both hoping that things would have improved and that it would be all over. Instead, there are three more days of waiting to go. He sounds impossibly calm and optimistic about it, and I suppose there isn't much else he can do. We are just going to have to trust that God will make everything right, because we know that He can.

I go back to our group and lead the singing of a few songs at the request of my Mum, which aside from starting off our main service, helps to lift my spirits. The group leader gives the sermon. It is also about love and is based on the description in John 15 about Christ being the vine and us being the branches. We cannot bear fruit unless we are connected to the vine. Verses 7 and 16 are especially poignant to me. They assure us that if we remain attached to the vine, then whatever we ask of the Father in Christ's name will be given to us. I need that kind of reassurance right now. We end our service with a prayer and another song, then put the furniture back the way it was and head back to Mum's for lunch. Everyone has brought some food with them and we tuck in. There is my Mum's famous soup, some rice, noodles with vegetables and tofu, broccoli and carrots with a cheese topping, cous cous, pasta and an incredible salad with sweetcorn, home-grown white cucumber, red cabbage, beetroot, tomatoes and lettuce, finished with a lovely lemony dressing. My appetite really is back with a vengeance and I have a big plate of soup and rice, noodles and veg and then about five helpings of the salad.

I sit and talk to our friend M who, although he is turning 74 this week, still works 6 days a week taking care of about 70 gardens, working almost 10-hour days. He always pronounces my name wrong, always asks when I am getting married and gives the tightest hugs of any septuagenarian I know, but he is an utter sweetheart. Midway through lunch, there is a knock at the door. It is a member from the church group we had previously attended. He is delivering a letter to Mum from the Pastor. We invite him in and he has a bite to eat before leaving. The group leader arrives back after collecting his 3 children (who I first met a year ago here) from the main church. Dessert is served. We have home-made sponge cake filled with jam courtesy of my Dad, a warm apple tart, and some fresh strawberries and raspberries courtesy of our friends. Everyone is relaxed and happy. I join two of our friends who love gardening out in the back garden, to find them inspecting Mum's aubergines and tomato plants. One of our friends has an allotment and shows me which leaves I should remove and which parts to prune to help the aubergines grow better and bigger.

Later on, the adults are looking at photos in the living room. The children are playing outside in the garden, so I go to keep an eye on them. There are 3 siblings, a girl of 8, another girl of 4 and their little brother who is 2. They have another friend who is a girl, also 2. She has a fascination with shoes and appears in the living room wearing Big Sis' heels, which she has collected from the hall. The oldest girl is with the adults inside, but the others are playing on the foldable camping chairs my Mum has on the patio, pretending it is a car. The little boy is fearless and jumps from chair to chair without any sense of reluctance. I am sitting on a bench to the right of them, with my feet resting on one of the chairs. The little boy suddenly sees me as part of this climbing frame and starts to use my legs as a bridge. The younger girl sits next to me and talks to me in her own unique language. My Mum has told me I had a similar language of my own at that age. We converse about the profound. The 4 year-old sits on a chair to the left of me, telling me lots of stories. She later sits on my lap and plays with my hair, lamenting the fact that hers is straight when she would prefer it to be curly. I neglect to tell her my hair is permed, for fear of putting thoughts into her impressionable 4 year-old mind.

The sun has been shining all afternoon and it is nice sitting outside, marvelling at the fact that these children have boundless energy. As the day draws to a close, I go upstairs to get changed and gather my things so that I can be on time to meet Lolly at the train station. The group gathers together, holding hands in a circle to have a last prayer. The littlest girl loves this part and grabs the hands of the adults next to her, closing her eyes enthusiastically and swaying very slightly from side to side. She is adorable. After the prayer, everyone gradually leaves, amidst exchanges of takeaway containers of food, hugs and wishes to take care. It has been an exceptionally lovely day. I feel rested, refreshed, close to God and close to this relatively new-found group of friends.

Really Spoke Too Soon

Why is it that bad news and difficult situations seem to like company? My glib response to 'speaking too soon' was a severe under-reaction. Thursday evening, I was still feeling a little weird from the call from The Ex. Friday came and thankfully the feeling had faded. Instead, I was worrying about BFTP and how he was feeling, whether his eye felt any better and whether he had managed to get through the night with even a little bit of cumulative sleep, considering he had to wake every hour to put his eye-drops in. The week had been an odd one and I was so pleased it was nearly over. I was looking forward to seeing my parents that evening, the nice Sabbath we had planned and the fact that Lolly was coming to stay at my house on Saturday and Sunday nights.

Counting down till 5.00pm, the hour of hometime finally arrived. Just before I left the office, I decided to check my phone. I have a text message. From NY Guy. My stomach jumps. I read it. He is just letting me know that when he comes to London next week, he won't be staying the week that he had originally planned. Instead, he is staying for four months because his work wants him to help out in their London office. He just thought I should know. He tells me that if I ever want to meet up just as friends, he'll be around. I shake my head in disbelief and laugh sarcastically that everything seems to happening at once. I wasn't so concerned about him being here a week. I wasn't planning to see him, because I didn't really see what purpose that would serve, other than making things harder for the both of us. I knew that if I really wanted to, I could plan to be away that week. But four months?! I am being tested. A few months ago, that would have been the perfect situation for us. Him staying here for four months instead of a week would have made me ecstatic. Now, I just feel awkward and a little anxious. I cannot believe that in two and a half years, he doesn't even make it over to visit me once, let alone spend any time over here for work, despite the fact that he has done several times before we met. No sooner have we broken up and we could both probably do with forgetting about each other and moving on, he gets sent here. I have to laugh about the incredibly bad timing, but my laugh is sardonic. I don't reply to the text. Aside from anything else, I have no idea what to say.

I try not to think about it and head to the rents'. I have a nice evening. I am still feeling a bit odd about everything that is going on, but it is nice being with my parents. We have dinner and watch some of the World Athletics Championships. At about 9pm I am already feeling exhausted. I go upstairs and feel almost ready to go to sleep. I call BFTP and we talk, but things still feel weird after our week of feeling oddly disconnected. I don't feel quite as comfortable as I have done previously. His internet has been down all week and he comments that he has been unable to read my blog. He wishes he could. Randomly, he asks if I would mind reading it to him. It's a bit odd, because it feels like reading it aloud will make it feel even more personal, but I don't object. I think it might actually help explain what is going on inside my head.

I go and get my Mum's laptop and call him back. We figure out at what point he had last finished and then I start to read. Reading to him is oddly therapeutic, but before long he is interrupted by his Mum. He has to sort something out and says he will call me back. At first I don’t mind, but after sitting there for a few minutes I start to feel exposed. I am reminded of the many times conversations with NY Guy would be cut short because he had to do something or talk to someone else or get some dinner. I remember feeling that everything else would take priority over me. I don't like that feeling. I can sense that I am starting to shut down emotionally. I start writing BFTP a text message. "You know what, I think I'm going to go to sleep. Auto-mode is kicking in, my insecurities are getting to me and this is reminding me too much of something else. Sorry. x" I am about to press 'send' but I stop. I know that I am having a reaction to his behaviour that is based mainly on the behaviour of another person. I know that's not really fair, but I just don't want to deal with this right now. I fight against my natural reaction and decide to wait a few minutes, just to see if he calls. Any more than five minutes and I think I will send it. A couple of minutes later, we are talking again. I don't mention my reaction or the fact that I was starting to feel awkward. But he immediately apologises for having to cut me off and says that it shouldn't have happened. He has sorted out the situation and I have his full attention. Just the fact that he senses I might have felt weird makes me feel better.

Several minutes later I have finished reading him my latest post. We talk about things a little and he says that in some of the instances I described, he had assumed I had felt differently and is a little relieved to know that his assumptions are incorrect. He feels connected to me again. "Don't give up on me," I ask him. He says that he won't and asks that I do the same for him in return. I feel better, even though I wonder why I can often express myself in writing infinitely better than I can verbally. The disconnection I had felt all week isn't there any more. Things feel right again and I am relieved. We talk some more and then decide that we should both get to sleep. I am really thankful that I have such a unique relationship with him. I am glad that we are both going to sleep knowing that things are back to normal in our world.

Waiting and Watching

Last night, my BFTP and I had a quick chat before bed. In keeping with the week's unofficial theme, I had felt unnaturally sleepy by about 8.30pm and had fallen asleep watching CSI (predictable, moi?). I woke up later and we had a quick catch-up. He tells me he has an eye infection in his left eye. It is streaming and is red and is extremely painful when light shines into it. He has been to the pharmacist, who gave him some eye wash, but advised that he really should see the doctor first thing in the morning. He asks if I think he should go now. It is after 11.30pm but not quite midnight. I'm not sure what to say, but don't advise against waiting if he is in a lot of pain. It's hard to tell how serious it might be over the phone. We say our goodnights and I go to sleep.

My alarm goes off at 6.30am. I hit 'snooze' even though I purposely set it early because I need to be up early. I get a text a minute later. He has been at A&E all night. There is a high chance that he could go blind in that eye. They have given him medicated eye-drops to use every hour for the next 24. He has to go to the emergency eye clinic first thing on Saturday. I am in shock. It sounds like he is too, although the text finishes with "I am trusting in God." What else can we really do? I pray. I know that there is nothing else I can do that would be better in this situation. I am worried for him, but I trust that God knows best. I finish praying and then I call him.

He says that he went to A&E straight after we spoke. He usually texts me after we get off the phone and he explains that he couldn't because even the light from his phone was too excruciating to look at. At the hospital, they have to get an eye specialist in on call. They tell him that if he had left it any longer, he could have been blind in that eye within 48 hours. He said it was a little hard being there on his own. I feel helpless and sad that I couldn't be there with him. Distance royally sucks in these situations. We talk about things and I try to be calm and reassuring. I just want to be there to hold his hand. He has to drop his car round to his friend's. How he is managing to drive, I have no idea. I tell him to call me when he's done.

I send him a text 30 minutes later. When I don't hear from him, I give him a call before I get to work. He can't text because he is resting his eyes. They hurt too much. He hasn't slept all night, but has to put the eye-drops in every hour. He has set an hourly alarm and can therefore only nap in between. I can't even imagine the frustration he must feel, but he sounds extremely calm about everything. I tell him that I will call him at lunchtime, when he is due to put some drops in. I wish there was more I could do. It is probably a good thing he has moved back to live with his Mum for a while. At least there will be someone there to keep an eye on him while he gets better. I am praying that the drops do what they are supposed to and halt the infection in its tracks. I am praying that there won't be any permanent damage, or additional impairment to his already short-sighted vision. I am praying that he will remain calm and won't panic about things. I am praying that I won't worry unduly or add to the situation negatively in any way.

There is a reason for everything. I'm not sure what the reason for this is yet, but in the meantime all we can do is wait.

Spoke Too Soon

The Mrs and Mini Me both asked me yesterday if I'd heard from the Ex. Not NY Guy, my previous ex. The big one. The 6-years-of-relationship-and-3-years-of-weird-mind-games one. I relayed the fact that I hadn't, not for about a month, if that, when we'd talked about the fact that I was back with NY Guy and he expressed his displeasure in rather explicit terms. He doesn't know that since then I have decided that things weren't right with NY Guy either and he definitely doesn't know about my BFTP. I did get a text from him a couple of Sundays back, asking what I was up to. I ignored it. I had a minor pang of guilt for a second, but it soon passed. I was thinking that perhaps that was it this time, that he realised that there was no chance of us ever getting back together and that because of the nature of our relationship and the various emotions involved, being 'friends' was just not wise, or even feasible for that matter.

That afternoon, my work phone rings on what was an otherwise relatively call-free day. I answer in my usual standard greeting. I hear a voice reply, "Hello." At first, it doesn't click. Then realisation slowly dawns on me and puzzlement gives way to recognition. "I thought I'd call you at work because if I call your mobile, I know you won't answer. Don't be mad at me." I feel chills. He is right, I wouldn't have answered. I still get slightly annoyed that I never even gave him my work number, he managed to look it up on the internet. Hmm, Google. The stalker's friend.

He asks how I am and we chit-chat. I think I am still a little surprised at his call but I don't feel angry. We talk. He tells me that his knee injury has got worse and he might need keyhole surgery. He tells me the bad news that the father of a close friend has died. He was almost as close to him as his friend was. I am shocked and feel sad for both him and his friend. He asks how I am and how I have been feeling. I know he is making reference to me feeling depressed and I appreciate it, but don't want to go into details. I tell him I am feeling better. I don't go out of my way to carry the conversation on, although I'm not rude or standoffish. But he can sense my awkwardness. "Well…I just called to see how you are. I would say let's catch up, but I know you wouldn't really like that…" I know he is testing the water. Maybe he is hoping I will disagree. "No, I would like that. Let's catch up." But I don't. I don't really say anything. We part with the usual pleasantry of "Take care." "Talk to you soon, then…?" he says, hopefully. I don't really respond. The conversation ends and I get back to work, still feeling a little weird.

I don't know how to feel. It might seem like such a small thing, but even talking to him briefly instils pangs of guilt that I can't explain. I feel sorry for him and don't think badly of him, as such, but I know that I can't be in his life in the way that he wants me to. I don't even really want him in my life, because he seems incapable of drawing the appropriate line. I almost wish that we could be 'friends', that we could go back to how things were 9 or 10 years ago, when we were good friends who enjoyed each other's company, before the lines got blurred and emotions became fraught. I still feel sad that cutting him out of my life means cutting his family out too. I wish he could find the right person for him and feel sad knowing that he needs someone to talk to, but that someone can't be me.

I tell BFTP about it later that evening. He understands that it is a weird situation for me, but assures me that he trusts me. If I did decide I wanted to catch up, then he wouldn't stop me. He knows that I know exactly what I have with him. I am grateful that he is so understanding, even though his own past experience should have him wanting to lock me away from any contact with an ex. I don't want to break his trust. But my reluctance to revisit the past isn't only out of loyalty to him. It's mostly out of protection for me.

I wake this morning to find I have had odd dreams. I can't remember any details, but know that the Ex was in them in some capacity. I hate that he has got inside my head again. It's bizarre that a person who seems to be so strong in personality can be so vulnerable and insecure underneath. I feel a little sad, but I have learnt that after so long of ignoring my own emotional needs, in this situation I have to put myself first. I don't really understand his inability to move on, or his insistence in staying in contact. But all I can do is be responsible for what is best for me. Right now, what is best does not include him.

Payment In Cake

All week, Miss T has been begging our colleague Mr. G to go to Waitrose and buy a big chocolate cake. When he asked, "What's in it for me?" she replied, "Well you can have a slice, obviously. But you have to pay for it." Despite this ridiculously 'generous' offer, Mr. G declined to buy said cake, although he did cheekily offer to buy one on Friday. Why was that cheeky? Because Miss T doesn't work Fridays.

Friday morning arrives and I am up early for a change, for several reasons, one of which I may elaborate on later. I get ready for work and even have time to sit and eat not one, but two bowls of Weetos, while chatting with Big Sis about my latest and the fact that the women's 800m world champion is suspected of being born a man. What a horrible accusation to have to deal with. But I digress.

I have breakfast and don't rush around like a mad chicken and still make it for the 8.15am train. I forget how much busier it is at this time of the morning. There's a subconscious reason I get a later train. I get to work at 9am. Mr. G looks at me and says my name in disbelief. "Wipe that look of shock off your face," I say, "I am early occasionally!" We laugh. I am feeling oddly energetic and start firing off replies to emails I have been avoiding all week. I get quite a lot of work done and feel rather pleased with myself. An email pops up from our Office Manager. One of our Heads of Department has bought a cake to thank everyone for their hard work over the past few weeks. It is being cut in the meeting room at 11.00am. I see the email and secretly scoff. Big wow, they bought a cake. They are constantly doing things like bringing in biscuits and things, as if that will make up for the stress that people have been dealing with. Like the 'guilt doughnuts' they bought us from Krispy Kreme when they were restructuring our department. There may be redundancies, but don't worry, have a doughnut! I cannot be bought.

Fast forward to cake o'clock and I dutifully go to join the cake queue with Boss Lady, Mr. G and Mini Me. We enter the meeting room to find the HoD cutting up a massive chocolate cake. In my glee, I offer an enthusiastic "Thank you!", completely forgetting my earlier sarcasm. What's that you say? You can't pay me the extra £200 a month I'd be getting if I was actually getting paid for the level at which I'm working? Oh, but I can have a slice of cake? No matter then! Cheers! I am shameless. The payment in cake doesn't even taste bitter as it goes down. I am a bit naughty and text Miss T the good/bad news. She responds: "That is so not fair." She's not wrong. Nothing really is at the moment.

Reputation

Lolly just sent me an email saying: "I hope you're feeling less militant today!" Er....yes...?? Well that told me! Lol! Hmm, am I getting myself a reputation?

What A Difference A Day Makes

Yesterday was very weird. Further to our intense conversation and my oddly strong reaction to it, the day seemed to get worse. BFTP and I spoke at lunchtime, but I found myself unable to feel positively or even to express myself much verbally. I could feel myself wanting to lash out, not necessarily directed at or because of him, but just out of inexplicable frustration. I tried to explain over the phone and then by text when he decided it might be best if he leave the phone conversation, but I think I made things worse. I felt like saying "F*%$ you, world! Whatever!" I just felt miserable and I didn't completely understand why.

I called the Mrs, but knew she was out with her Boy and I couldn't get hold of her. I called Lolly and she soon made me smile. I think I just needed to let off steam and vent some frustration and then things felt better. BFTP and I made the decision to not talk that evening as we were both exhausted. I felt bad that he had been having a really busy day and all I had done was give him extra stress by acting like an utter bitch. I felt embarrassed, but most of all I missed him. I felt like it served me right for being difficult. You can't be weird around people and then feel outraged when they want to spend time away from you! I went home and felt miserable. I ate some dinner while Big Sis and Bro-in-Law decided to make the most of what was left of the hottest day of the year and go for a walk, as well as some food shopping. It was the first time in a while that I had a brief moment of fear at the thought of being alone. Knowing that I had agreed to give BFTP some space to chill out, I realised that I would have to be all alone with my thoughts. Oh dear, bad mood. It's just me and you tonight.

By 8.00pm, I just wanted to go to bed. I was fed up, but it was still too light outside and I didn't actually feel sleepy enough for that to not bother me. Instead, I chilled out and watched some CSI, made myself some tea, took my medication and generally tried not to feel restless. I remembered there were some albums I wanted to burn that were on Big Sis' computer, so I went to do those. I ran the bath. Big Sis and Bro-in-Law arrived back, Big Sis extremely pleased with some bargain purchases. I remembered there was a song that I wanted to send to BFTP. I thought it might make things better. I emailed it to him, with the lyrics, and then sent him a text to let him know, saying that I knew he was chilling and there was no need to reply. Despite me saying that, when he didn't reply I felt lonelier than ever, but I knew I had to respect the space that I had effectively brought on myself.

I cleaned my teeth. I had a nice soak in a hot bath, scrubbed and massaged my aching feet a little and washed my hair. When I got out and started getting ready for bed, I checked my phone. Still nothing. When you've spoken pretty much every night for a couple of weeks, an evening apart feels like ages. I put on another episode of CSI to watch while I slathered myself in body lotion, my hair in anti-frizz serum and my face in cream that would hopefully sort out the shocking state of my skin lately. I just wanted to go to sleep and forget this day ever happened. I got in bed, took some Night Nurse and watched the rest of the programme, while waiting for the familiar drowsiness to hit me. I sent BFTP a text: "Sleep well. X" No reply. The episode ended and I knew I couldn't do my usual trick of fighting against my tiredness to watch episodes back to back, only to wake up in the middle of the night with my laptop still on my bed and my light on. I switched everything off and put it away and laid down to sleep. It was before 11.00pm. This is very early for me.

I am woken up at 3am by a text from BFTP. He fell asleep at his sister's and didn't get my earlier messages. I am relieved, but am too drowsy to reply. Fast forward 6 hours and I am having déjà vu. I am woken by a text from BFTP. I haven't called him as usual for our morning devotional. He hazards a guess that I am still wanting space, but admits that he is finding it hard and misses me much. I check the time. 8.55am. The latest train I can usually get to just about reach work on time is at 9.00am. Eek. I think I may have missed that one. I rush to get up, washed and dressed and am thankful I have done some laundry recently and thus have plenty of clean clothes to choose from. I lament the fact that when I go to sleep with slightly damp hair, I wake up looking like Bon Jovi. I spray some leave-in conditioner on it, then shrug and sigh and decide I will practice mirror-avoidance more than usual today. I rush downstairs and nearly topple over trying to put my sandals on. I rush to the station, praying I won't miss the 9.15am train, but am thankfully there for 9.15. The train gets in on time.

I call BFTP and he is pleased to hear from me. I explain that I woke up late and wasn't ignoring him. I have missed him. Things feel back to normal. He reads our devotional, but has to go unexpectedly to speak to a workman who is fitting something in their kitchen. I call him back when I am almost at work. He says he is happy for us to forget about the day before. I am conscious that this would be preferable for me, but that deep down he might just want to tell me about myself! He assures me that he doesn't have a problem with it. We decide to pray as we didn't get a chance to after our reading. He admits he doesn't feel like it and I identify with that feeling. I offer to pray instead, although I am walking to work from the bus stop. We pray together and both feel much better. I really love the fact that we can share this part of our relationship. I am outside my office and am just on time. I thank him for being patient with me. He replies that he can't be anything else, because he doesn't want to lose me. I smile. I am still feeling groggy from my abundance of medication-aided sleep, but I am awake enough to know how very blessed I am.