Space

You granted me space and time,
As if those were yours to give
And I was the one who needed them.
Your worlds revolve around you
And you like those who follow
The predictable paths, stuck
In the same orbit that won't
Cross paths to interfere with
Yours, the way we asteroids
And comets do.  I have been
The moon that predictably
Circled, faithfully in tune
With your patterns, even when
The repetition started
To grate in its tedium.
Now my instability
Impedes your progress to stay
On course, unchallenged and so
Unaltered.  This galaxy
Is not vast enough for the
Both of us, else I pull you
Into the black hole of my
Despair and consume you whole.
Yet in truth, although your path
Is set, you delight not in
Its certainty, secretly
Hoping a planetary
Body will cause disruption
To your cycle of sameness.
This celestial being,
Moon, or comet, or black hole,
Will forever emit more
Light and energy than you.
The space between us is best,
For this star is on the verge
Of turning supernova
And what will be born from this
Is too beautiful to bear.

The Most Wonderful Time of the Year...?

This Christmas is a very odd one.  It's the first one without Dad.  It has crept up on me because I only went back to work after about four months on sick leave two weeks before, so hadn't been out and about noticing all the Christmas lights, decorations and build-up begin.

On Saturday, Mum, Big Sis, Bro-in-Law and I went to a Christmas sing-a-long concert at the Royal Albert Hall.  I was feeling decidedly unfestive when we arrived.  But it ended up being good fun and made me feel a little bit more Christmassy than I had been.  Mum had a voucher for dinner at the Hilton, so we went there afterwards and had a nice dinner in the Hawaiian-themed restaurant.  The fruit cocktails were lovely, I would  love to go there another time and have some of the rum ones!  After the meal, we went home and I threw some stuff into a bag so I could go back with Mum to hers.  That's when I found out that Big Sis and Bro-in-Law weren't going to Mum's for Christmas.

My family has never made a huge fuss over Christmas, but we've always at least had a gathering and lunch or dinner together.  It's become notably less and less important in recent years, which I think is a shame.  I really dislike how commercial Christmas has become and how irrelevant half of the things people worry about are.  But I like the fact that we have one day where everything stops, shops are closed and people are encouraged to get together, spend time in each other's company, watch old films and fun TV, have a nice meal as a family/group and buy each other gifts if they so wish to.  This year, Mum said that Big Sis and Bro-in-Law weren't obliged to come, partly because Big Sis has been spending time with Mum and they also went away to Lanzarote for a week a couple of weeks ago, and she thought she needed to spend some time with her husband!  That's the benefit of being legally bound to another.  Us singletons don't get a free pass to spend time alone, or with friends.

Basically, today has been a non-day, highlighted by the fact that everyone else is talking about their gatherings and Christmas dinners and presents and so on.  Today I have sat on the sofa since 11am, watching TV.  Mum has been sat in the armchair next to me doing the same.  I've intermittently been on my laptop, her on her iPad.  We haven't spoken all that much.  We don't often want to watch the same things, although I don't mind some of the things she puts on.  I felt like going upstairs to read or watch things online, but it felt a bit rude.  There were no presents, no special meal.  There are no Christmas decorations up.  Everything just feels empty and dead.  Now and then either or both of us would be crying, but not really acknowledging it in the other person.

I have retreated into my shell again, not talking to people because it's easier to hold things in and deal with them on my own than open up and not be understood.  Mum frequently makes comments about losing a spouse being much worse and more intense than losing a parent.  While I agree that is true to a degree, it feels like she has a monopoly on grief.  Every now and then she says the same things about how she feels, her own guilt, her own 'if onlys', etc.  I want to listen and reassure her, but it feels like a broken record.  I don't have enough emotional energy of my own to tell her it's OK.  Going over what we could have done differently doesn't help me in my own grieving process.  It's personal to her, as a wife, as a nurse, as my Dad's full-time carer for 18 months.  I want to remember the positive things about my Dad, the good memories I have.  Mum says she keeps having to remember how he was at the end, almost to reassure her that it was the right time for him to die, that he was unwell, weak and uncomfortable.  I had already accepted that my Dad was going to die.  His existence as a fraction of the human being he was made me feel uncomfortable and upset.  It still hurt so much when he died, but I can't deny the part of me that was relieved that his suffering and also my Mum's non-stop effort with caring had come to an end.  Part of my Mum's grief is occasionally going over what more she could have done, which is very specific to her.  I can't imagine dealing with the loss of someone who was your companion for 31 years.  But I know what it's like to lose my father of 30 years and it's painful.  Hypothetically, my Mum could find another companion.  But I can't find a new father.  I may find a new father figure, I may have a father-in-law some day, but the father who raised me, whose DNA makes up my own, whose character and influence moulded me into who I am today, that can't be replaced.

I feel like now my Dad has gone, I've lost an ally.  The family dynamic has changed.  My Mum and Big Sis have got more and more alike in recent years.  It's only now that Dad has passed away that I feel like a third wheel at times.  I liked similar things to my Dad.  I think I'm probably a bit more cynical, more realistic/negative, less religious, less strong in faith - all things my Dad was in some ways.  I frequently feel like I'm the odd one out in my family now.  It's something I never expected, probably because I never noticed it before, because Dad was always there to balance things out.

Today, I've felt more and more sad as the day has gone on.  It's the first time since immediately after my Dad died that I've really felt like crying and have done so.  I've felt pangs of jealousy at people who are having traditional Christmas family get-togethers.  I've felt resentful of people who are moaning about things they could probably be a little more grateful for.  I've felt isolated, lonely and misunderstood.  I've felt loss twice over - the loss of my Dad, and the loss of Samson, who I could always go to when I felt sad, even if I didn't know the reason.  I've felt lost and even more sad because finding that kind of understanding in a person is relatively uncommon.  Building up that sort of trust, where I'd feel comfortable enough to talk to someone when I feel low, takes time.  I fear I won't find it again.  Or more likely, that I won't trust enough again to open up sufficiently to develop that kind of relationship.  It just feels like no-one understands.  I have hardly any appetite at the moment.  I'm having one meal and a snack a day.  I have no money again and only got paid five days ago.  There just never seems to be an end to this perpetual cycle of sadness at the moment.

It feels like as I get older, birthdays and Christmas just highlight all my sadness even more.  I think this is part of why I want to settle down, find someone who is my partner for life, who is with me against the world, and start my own family.  So I can start my own traditions, have my own celebrations, do things in a way that will make me happy.  I'm fed up of being the reliable, go-to person for my family to rely on to go along with what they want, because I'm too emotionally retarded to be able to say no.  I'm fed up of being someone who people come to for advice, when they are feeling down or in need of reassurance, when they need someone to be there, but not being able to support me in my own times of sadness.  This is what happens when you get used to holding your own feelings back and putting on your 'strong' face for the world.  Even those closest to you can't tell the difference between the mask and your real face anymore.  You can't let the barriers down even when you want to.

To Be, Or Not To Be....a Bride?

It’s been a long time since I last wrote a proper blog.  As is always the case when I have long breaks in between writing, I have been feeling tired, a little uninspired and haven’t had the time.  But thankfully, work has slowed right down and I’ve had to find ways to fill my time while looking like I’m doing something productive – a perfect time to write.

At a loss of things to do, I realised I hadn’t checked my friend’s blog in a while and after doing so, discovered a new post by The Mrs, (ironically) entitled “I don’t want to be a bride”.  This is not news to me, as since we first became friends at 15 she has remained consistent in her reluctance to get married.  I probably wouldn’t even describe it as a reluctance, more a certainty that she didn’t really see herself taking that route in life.  Like most people, at some point I probably told her that her mind might change as she got older (as with her lack of desire to have children), not because getting married is what everyone should do, but more because who knows what they want at 15?  Ironically, I felt at 15 that I wanted to get married and have children some day and that desire hasn’t changed, so perhaps we know more about ourselves at a younger age than we like to admit.  No-one says “you’ll feel differently when you’re older,” if you’re a teenager saying you want to get married and have children in the future.  But if you express the opposite opinion, you get the opposite reaction.  People talk of that maternal yearning “kicking in,” like you get to a magic age and suddenly your principles change.  It hasn’t happened for The Mrs and she is happy with her choices.  If she ever did change her mind, I would support her.  It wouldn’t really matter to me, so long as she was happy.  What makes her question herself is the fact that other people/society/cultural conventions seem to be certain that she can’t be happy if she is not adhering to their lifestyle norms, despite the fact that a large proportion of couples nowadays don’t do that either.

So, what of me?  I emailed The Mrs to tell her I’d read her blog and really liked it.  Her reply was that I should now write a blog entitled ‘I want to be a bride’ in response to it!  This is something I’ve also been thinking a lot about lately.  I grew up being taught that marriage is an ideal to work towards and that a family unit with two parents is the best one in which to raise children.  I still believe this, but I know that our society and culture has changed so much that this no longer works for everybody and can also alienate those whose circumstances don’t fit into this template. Thankfully, my parents have stayed together, so I didn’t have any direct personal experience of the negative side of marriage while growing up.  I’ve always expected to get married, but I don’t think I had that same crazed desperation to do so as I’ve seen some girls have.  It’s a commitment I see as sacred and life-long and is not something I would enter into lightly.  Ideally, I certainly wouldn’t want to have children with someone to whom I wasn’t married.

To some extent, I’ve been philosophical about my marital status thus far.  I believe that if it’s going to happen, then it will happen, and I would want it to happen with the right person, not just for the sake of it.  Lately, however, I’ve found myself starting to feel a strong urge to settle down.  Part of this is because I still live with family, in the same place I grew up, and don’t have my own home.  I long for my own space, in which I am autonomous, my own haven where I can make my own decisions and not have to answer to anyone else.  Part of it is that I’ve had relationships, some that lasted a long time, and I don’t want to just date anymore.  I want the stability of being in a relationship with someone who is wholly committed to me, someone who wants to plan a future together.  It’s been a possibility in the past, but perhaps more one of theory than practice.  Those I’ve had significant relationships with in the past have expressed a desire to marry me, but when it came down to it, things fell apart.  The Ex probably still would marry me if I took him back (although I’m basing this on our last conversation months ago and may well have moved on by now – I hope), NY Guy frequently told me he could see himself marrying me and wanted to start a life together and has since married and started a life with someone else, so he clearly wanted those things, it just didn’t happen with me.  Things with BFTP seemed promising, but concluded with him going AWOL, so that says it all.  It’s almost as though them expressing this notion out loud jinxes any possibility of it actually happening.

Over the past month, I’ve been questioning where my relationship with Samson is going.  He’s a lovely person and we get on really well, but sometimes I feel he is holding back.  He can be emotionally reserved or perhaps inexperienced, took a lot of encouragement to admit he loved me (I’m still not entirely convinced), doesn’t talk about the future much and seems non-committal about what he wants, although he seems to want those things at some vague point in the future.  I’m not saying I want to get married immediately, but knowing it was heading in that direction would be reassuring.  It’s hard playing the game when the goalposts are constantly moving.  The Mrs and I were both brought up in religious homes, where marriage was to some extent the expectation.  Although her current boyfriend doesn’t have that sort of religious/cultural background and therefore doesn’t subscribe to that expectation, their relationship works because she doesn’t either.  I have caused problems for myself in that I am in a relationship where our expectations aren’t necessarily the same.

At the weekend, I went to my ‘home’ church for the first time in months.  I heard that a guy I knew from church when we were children and only got back into contact with in recent years, had recently got married.  A few years ago he had expressed an interest in me which I didn’t reciprocate because I was with NY Guy at the time.  Aside from that, I wasn't entirely sure we would be right for each other anyway, but I never serioualy considered finding out.  After hearing about his recentl nuptials I was surprised, as the last time I saw him I wasn’t aware of him even dating anyone.  But I noticed that mixed with the surprise was a palpable sense of disappointment, sadness and a slight touch of envy.  All I thought was, “That’s what I want.”  It was almost a shock to hear myself think that.  It’s the first time I’ve fully realised that this uncertainty, this disparity between what Samson and I are both ready for emotionally at this moment at time, is making me unhappy.  I’ve been trying so hard to convince myself that I’m fine with floating along, that I’ve suppressed the reality of wanting something that my current situation isn’t providing.  I could title this post the same as Claire’s, because I don’t want to be a bride.  I don’t want the ceremony without the meaning behind it.  I don’t just want a ring on my finger that is valuable to me only because of its material worth.  I want to be and have a partner, someone who is willing to dedicate their life to making me happy, because that’s what I’d do for them.  Someone who will pledge “for better or worse” and mean every single word.  Someone who wants to make a home, start a family and live their life with me.  And right now, I’m not sure that I do.

The Mrs may feel social pressure to conform, but she has got it right.  She knows what she wants, has never been afraid of expressing it, and is with someone who shares the same desire.  I wish I could say the same.

An End

You appear in my thoughts more than I’d like.

I wonder if you are happy, knowing that you most probably are.

Even if you weren’t, I doubt I would feel better. 

Did you meet Irene?  Maybe she saw your family and friends instead,

If you are living your own West-side story the way my snooping suggests,

Living in the birthplace you swear you told me about, but I know you didn’t.

Has she made you a dad?  My heart stops.  The final nail.  But a bittersweet happiness.

Life has separated us in so many more ways than one.

Do you ever think the same, wonder about me?

Am I a distant shadow from the past, a long-faded memory,

Or one you have locked away to keep from your present?

Did you hope for my safety when my home was ablaze?

Wonder how much I witnessed or how close I came?

Or perhaps watched in horror like anyone else,

With objective compassion, like you had no connection.

You didn’t stop moving the moment I left,

The sadness ignited you rather than froze you in time.

Progression suits you, I would just hold you back,

Stagnating in my own self-pity.  I am still here.

No news to share, no achievements to laud,

Same as it ever was.

You believed in me, at least for a time,

A flash of light in the gloom, until you shone elsewhere.

But maybe you never did.  Infatuated with an image,

An idea, an ideal.  The truth wasn’t as beautiful as she,

The reality more difficult than the fantasy.

In the end you took your bird in the hand by the hand,

Over any potential prize out in the bush.

How shrewd and sensible, a timely escape.  

I still feel the fool, but at least I am my own.

You deserve a happy ending, you worked hard to get it.

I will settle for an end to this.

The Ugly, Painful Truth: Love, Insecurity and Psycho Bitches

I’m walking slightly lighter at the moment, but am still carrying quite a lot of unnecessary baggage with me. Things have been okay this week, but the cyclical surge of hormones has caused its usual mischief of worsening my low moods, increasing my sense of insecurity while decreasing my sense of rationality and making me feel incomprehensibly irritable to the point of mild violence. I jest not! Oh, to be a man sometimes.

A couple of years ago, Samson was involved with a girl at work, who wasn’t based in our department, but had some involvement in it. At the time I was with NY Guy and didn’t really know Samson that well, other than chit-chat we’d have in the kitchen or passing in the office. But my Aussie Mrs RV was working in the same team as him and was friends with him, and I remember her telling me that he really liked this girl. One of the few times I went out with my the workmates for drinks, me and Mrs RV ended up having a heart-to-heart in the corner and didn’t end up talking much with the others.We were sat in a quiet corner that was near the toilets, and I remember Samson walking past us on his way to them when he stopped and tried to convince us to come over and sit with them. Looking back since we’ve got together, I’ve always wondered if things might have been different if I had taken that opportunity and maybe got to know him a little better. I seem to remember this girl being there that evening and Mrs RV telling me that Samson liked her but that she had a boyfriend, who she was also living with. I remember feeling a bit reluctant to go over, but I don’t know why. In any case, it was a fleeting thought as me and Mrs RV were having a really good chat and never got around to going over to sit with the rest of them.

As it turned out, Samson did get involved with this girl, while she was still living with her boyfriend. I think I must have heard tell of this from Mrs RV or just from floating office gossip, because I remember being vaguely aware of their involvement and feeling slightly disapproving of it, I suppose. I never really thought badly of him as such because he didn’t seem like a player and I think I felt that since she was the one already attached and living with someone else (which in my mind made it worse), that she was more culpable in the situation. I never really found out what happened and I suppose I didn’t really care because it wasn’t my business and I had relationship problems of my own.

When several months or more went by and Shoulders told me that I had an admirer in the office (Mrs RV had returned home to Aus by this time), I had a vague inkling that it might be Samson, but wasn’t consciously thinking about it because NY Guy and I were still in touch, even though we weren’t really together. But subconsciously, I remember becoming more and more aware of him at work, more on the lookout in case he came down my end of the office, and bizarrely more aware of the girl that he had been involved in. I didn’t know her to say hello to, only knew her face and name and vague job title, and only saw her very occasionally, say in the meeting room near the communal kitchen or in the canteen. But I suppose the more interested I became in Samson, the more interested I became in her.

When I like someone, I don’t actively try to find out about their ex-girlfriends or past relationship details. But if the information is there (e.g. NY Guy had a photo of him and his ex up on his MySpace page when we first started talking and for a while after we first got together) then I will analyse it. I suppose it’s information I use to gain a sense of who they are, the kind of person they are attracted to and what they are like in relationships. Admittedly, I also use it to know what I’m up against, to give myself a petty way of making myself feel better by convincing myself I’m prettier or nicer than her. I can’t explain my insecurity about this, but I’ve never been good with being able to deal with a person’s most recent or significant past relationship. I’ve never liked feeling that I was a second choice or the thought of being compared with someone else, which inevitably happens, even if it is favourably so. I very nearly broke up with NY Guy after he'd told me how many people he'd slept with (admittedly only after I asked). It was a number I considered to be extremely high, at least relative to the people I know and in terms of what I could cope with accepting. I know that's my problem, and I admit it was a hard thing to accept because of my own insecurities. I'm just not good with people's relationship histories.

I wish I could be, but I just don’t seem to have the self-confidence or security or whatever other character traits it takes to feel like, “If you loved her, then she must be a cool person.” I just want to demonise ex-flames, probably because it makes me feel better. Unless the person is expressing negative views about his ex, I feel there must still be some feeling there, even though I know that’s not how it works and that the opposite of love is not hate, but apathy. I don’t know if it’s something I got used to with The Ex. He was slightly irrational with anyone he knew I had liked in the past or had been out with. To be honest, he was pretty irrational with any male I was in contact with unless they were family or one of his friends (and even then, still slightly guarded). I suppose I started to see that as normal, that the jealousy and possessiveness he would express (usually in an aggressive or negative way) was how people reacted when they were in a relationship and felt threatened. He also had a way of making negative comments about other girls in general as a sort of way of boosting me up, rather than just being positive about me. When we got back in touch a couple of years ago and we briefly got involved again, he told me he had been with another girl on and off for about a year. He explained the reasons for it ending by criticising her, I suppose in a twisted way of trying to reassure me she wasn’t a threat. But it just made me question why he had been with her at all. I reached a new low when I looked at his phone once while he was sleeping and read all the texts between the two of them. It was a weird compulsion that overtook me, but bizarrely I didn’t feel upset or jealous, more just curious. Although I never told him I did that, realising that I sisn't feel jealous or bothered by it was one of the many things that made it clear to me I no longer loved him or wanted to be with him.

When Samson and I got together, I did ask him about her at some point, because I wasn’t sure how much they had been involved or for how long, and how serious it might have been. He gave me minimal information, which was probably best, explaining that in the end she broke things off because she decided to give things a try with the guy she was living with. Not too long afterwards, he saw her somewhere at work with a guy that she seemed to be involved with, who wasn’t the boyfriend she was living with. I got the sense that he had really liked her and that he had been hurt when it ended and what had subsequently transpired, but he said that he’d never felt he could completely be himself because of the fact that she was still ‘with’ her boyfriend. I found it an odd situation and although it didn’t really make me think less of him, it did make me feel negatively about her, partly in Samson’s defence. By that time, I had already seen what a sweet, genuine guy he seemed to be and I was angry that she'd treated him that way. I got the feeling that he must have really felt something for her to overlook the fact she was pretty much cheating on her boyfriend with him. It made me think less of her, but also made her more of a threat in my eyes: if Samson was willing to be ‘with’ her in that situation, then his feelings for her must have been pretty strong.

One evening a few months ago, we were talking on our way back to Samson’s after work and he said he had something to tell me. The girl had emailed him to say that she was going to be working on our floor again and wanted to warn him because she didn’t want things to be awkward if they bumped into each other. I didn’t really think much of it, but was glad he told me. It turns out she is working at my end of the office, on the other side of it to me, but not far from some filing cabinets I have to use almost daily. I wasn’t completely sure she would even know who I was, but word travels so quickly in this place, that it would be unlikely she didn’t know, or at least wouldn’t do for long. I used to occasionally feel threatened by her, but usually only when I was feeling especially insecure and emotionally low. But somehow, the constant reminder of her by her literal, visual presence, seems to have made it worse. I worry about how I look and how I will be perceived. I wonder about what she thinks of me. I used to dislike the fact that Samson's friends in the office knew about his relationship with her. I feel threatened by the fact that she has a better job than me. I hate that Samson liked her first and that things ended on her terms. I occasionally worry that her knowing Samson is with someone else will cause jealousy on her part and reignite the feelings she had for him. I suppose my biggest fear is this would happen, she would tell him she wanted him back and he would gladly accept.

I used to have an unwritten rule for myself that I would never tell a man I loved him before he had said he loved me. My Mum has always drummed it into me that a lady should let the man do the chasing, because when a man is truly interested, he will chase relentlessly. I have only ever felt I loved two people and very nearly fell in love with a third. But even so, I still doubt I really experienced true reciprocated love for real. Samson has been my only exception to this rule. For months and months all he would ever say in terms of his feelings was that he “really liked” me or “really cared for” me. At first it was nice taking things slowly and I liked the fact that things were different to anything I’d ever experienced before. But after a while, my feelings for him because so strong that it was almost getting uncomfortable, similar to how it gets uncomfortable when I don’t express negative emotion and keep it inside. I realised that he had told me he "really liked" me, but had used those same words when he told me how he felt about her.

Initially, I didn’t mind, because I never really doubted that Samson felt strongly for me, even if he didn’t say it that often. I knew he cared because he showed me he did, in practical ways. He was extremely patient, never raised his voice, would keep me company when I was having a low day and didn’t want to go home. He did lots of little, some might think insignificant, things. Cumulatively, to me they added up to mean a whole lot. He didn’t let me down or put me down. He was considerate, thoughtful, caring, kind and loyal. Everything he did told me he really cared for, even loved me. Everything except the actual words. I knew that he had been hurt before and that to an extent he was cautious and guarded about his deepest emotions. But I thought that after we had been together for a little while, a year perhaps, that he might feel trusting and sure enough to be more expressive verbally. But it didn’t happen. Nothing in his actions changed to make me think he felt differently, but after a while I gradually started to question what his feelings were. I couldn't see how he felt about me was any different to how he might have felt about her. I much prefer that he shows me he loves me but doesn’t say it, rather than says it freely but doesn’t really show it. But I admit, I do like to hear it, even if it’s only now and then.

After a while, I couldn’t suppress it anymore and told him I was in love with him. Admittedly, I did it in written form via message, but his silence on the matter had made me even more scared of admitting it, so that felt a slightly safer option than doing it in person. I can find it hard to express myself emotionally when it comes to negative emotions, but this experience has shown me that with love, I get to point where I feel the need to express it verbally and can no longer hold it back. It felt wrong not telling him, especially when this whole past year I’ve finally recognised that I have a tendency to bottle emotions up and have been making a conscious effort to try and change this. In his response, he sort of expressed feeling the same way; he didn’t say the three little words, but words to that effect. Either way, he said some lovely things and I felt glad I had finally told him exactly how I feel. I thought that he would probably get more comfortable expressing his feelings after a while, especially now that I had said it.

I was wrong. A few months have gone by and things are pretty much the same. While I still know that he cares for me and wants to be with me, the uncertainty of how serious of this is means that now and then I start to doubt it. I don’t know why it takes the actual word ‘love’ for me to believe that someone’s feelings are truly significant, but I suppose that denotes the strongest form of positive emotion. If you can’t tell your ‘significant other’ you love them, then who can you tell?

Anyway, my insecurities about Samson not feeling strongly enough for me to overcome his fear of opening up have been compounded by my monthly emotional low and the fact that I have to see this girl almost every day. The whole thing has started to bother me, irrationally. Why won’t he tell me he loves me? He must not love me. Why doesn’t he love me? What’s wrong with me? Did he love her? Does he still love her? What does she have that I don’t have? Aaaaaaaaand the thoughts had officially spiralled out of control. This week it got particularly acute and I reached a point where it was bothering me to the point of painful curiosity. I typed an email.

Me: Did you love her?

Him: I felt very strongly for her, and it hurt very much when it ended. I cared for her a lot, I don’t know if it was love, I haven’t thought about it in a long long time, I don’t think about it now. Why do you ask?

For me, with the irrational insecurity-and-hormone-induced rage coursing through me, the conversation probably sounded a little more like this:

Me: Did you love her?

Him: Yes. And I still do.

Okay, that's not entirely accurate. I probably heard it more like this:

Me: Did you love her?

Him: I'm not sure I loved her, but I felt very strongly for her. And I'd probably still be with her if she hadn't broken up with me. So any threat you feel is probably somewhat justified because if there is a bar of emotional attachment I've felt that has been set, it was set by her, so she's the one to beat. And I'm not sure I love you either, so I suppose you're sort of equal at the moment?

Hmm, okay, I admit that doesn't really sound any better or less irrational than the first one. But it is the truth, as ashamed as I am to admit it. The ugly, painful truth. I don't know why I get so insecure and threatened. I know I don't always feel this way. I don't want to roll out the old chestnut, "I've got PMS!" but I know from my own experience that it has a very obvious and significant effect on my emotions for a few days before Aunt Erma comes to visit (check out the original The IT Crowd, series 1, episode 6: Aunt Erma Visits for this reference - hilarious). I know it doesn't cause it completely, but the insecurities, doubts and irritants I already have are totally exacerbated by it.

But aside from that, I wish I could just be, "You've loved before, that's great, it shows you are capable of a loving committed relationship," or at a push, "You've made love before, copiously, that's great, it shows you are capable of being good at it (or at least should be)." I don't know which I'd find harder, or which should be easier to accept! I know I have issues. There is something about insecurity, jealousy, uncertainty in a relationship and a lack of self-confidence that brings out the ugliest parts of our characters. Not all women are psycho bitches when it comes to matters of the heart. I'm not a psycho bitch when it comes down to it, honest - you wouldn't see me torching some guy's car for cheating or ripping out some girl's weave because she tried to sex-text my man (I've been watching too much Maury). But things do get pretty intense inside my head. And that's what I'm working on. Perhaps I need to continue trying to trust Samson's feelings, even if he is reluctant to admit them. Maybe I should trust his actions rather than what past experience has told me and take the risk despite the battering my heart has taken in the past. But maybe Samson needs to take a risk too. And hopefully, the ugly, painful truth of love that manifests when insecurity, envy, heartache and fear get in the way, will eventually become the beautiful, edifying truth of love, that is only revealed and experienced when built on security, trust, encouragement and strength.

Worked-Up Weekends

The weekend was good and bad. I went to see the rents on Friday evening. We had dinner, Mum talked about work which seems to be increasingly stressful and less enjoyable for her. I told them about my fainting episode, which they reacted fairly indifferently to. Discouraged by their seeming disinterest, I didn't tell them about Samson in quite the detail I had planned to and was rewarded for my albeit reluctant sharing of information by my Mum's only comment being "How silly of your friend to think you were joking," after I described Samson's initial reaction to me slumping forward and then sideways off my chair. This is precisely why I never tell them anything.

By lunchtime on Saturday I was ready to go home, but had gone there mainly to practice the trio arrangement of 'O Holy Night' that we've been asked to learn in preparation for the recording of a Christmas CD for a church project. I felt distracted, uncomfortable and desperate to go home. After a singing practice that didn't end till about 8pm, we had a bite to eat, watched a bit of TV and got our things together to leave in the painfully slow way that it happens every week, finally getting home at about 9pm. I packed my laptop, clothes and toiletries in the rucksack that is gradually becoming an almost permanent attachment to my back in my current life as a nomad, and left for Samson's. He'd been out with his flatmates for a drink or two, so when I met him he was pleasantly tipsy, but in a way that my grumpy, stone-cold sober self wasn't able to fully indulge. We got home, chilled out for a bit and then went to sleep around midnight, both feeling really tired, with Samson nursing the beginnings of a headache and me finding it hard to get comfortable because of my sore neck.

I woke up some time later to the sound of his flatmates (and the three friends who were with them and were staying the night in the living room) arriving home noisily. After the drinks they had with Samson, they'd gone out for dinner and then presumably gone on for further drinks elsewhere. Not an uncommon Saturday night activity. I tried to settle and get back to sleep after the initial banging of doors and chit-chat as they first arrived. I checked my phone. It was sometime just after 3am. I became more acutely aware of the discomfort in my neck and found it hard to get comfy, despite trying several different positions lying on my back, front and sides, with varying degrees of pillow support. I could still here chatter from next door, but not the low mutters you might expect for 3am. There was full-on normal, if not louder volume, conversation. I felt slightly irritated, but then heard them inflating the air bed for their guests and thought they would probably settle down soon. I lay awake for what seemed like ages, getting steadily more aggrieved by the pain in my neck and my their incessant talking, laughing and banging of doors as they moved between their bedroom and the living room and took turns in the bathroom. There didn't seem to be any awareness of the fact that it was the middle of the night, or consideration for the fact that other people were also in the flat and trying to sleep. Samson stirred now and then and seemed to notice the noise, but then punctuated it by the occasional snore, which normally doesn't bother me, but was now just another item on the list of Annoying Things Preventing Me From Sleeping.

At some point the noise must have subsided enough and I must have managed to get comfortable enough to start to drift off. Just as I did, a door banged and woke me right back up again. I was fuming. I felt frustrated by what seemed to be a complete lack of regard or respect for other people. I wasn't sure I could really say anything because it's not my place. All I knew was that I wouldn't do that in my own house and certainly wouldn't do it at anyone else's. I'm especially conscious living with Big Sis and Bro-in-Law, who are both relatively light sleepers. Big Sis has mentioned to me before that Samson disturbed them by closing a door loudly when he got up to use the toilet in the middle of the night. It's obviously just how they are in their place, but to me it was completely alien and really disrespectful. I was getting more annoyed about it as I lay there, knowing that I was meeting friends for lunch the next day, so couldn't just sleep in as long as I wanted. It also annoyed me that they've had the cheek to complain about Samson snoring on occasion, when that's something he isn't even always aware of or can even help, but they could have chosen to be quieter if they wanted to. I checked my phone again and it was 4am. I drifted in and out of rest for ages, never fully sleeping. They were still talking or watching TV in the living room but now some of the group had moved in to bedroom and were having a non-stop conversation, meaning there was noise from both sides, as Samson's bedroom sits inconveniently in the middle of the two rooms. Samson stirred and I mentioned the noise, him acknowledging it, but then half-heartedly saying "Go to sleep," towards the direction the noise was coming from. I checked the time again. It was after 5am.

I can't remember what time I managed to fall asleep again. I woke up again at about 7.30 or 8 I think and then finally woke up at about 10.30 to start getting ready to go out. I felt exhausted, my neck hurt and I was irritable because of my lack of sleep and what had caused it. Maybe I was over-reacting or over-sensitive, but it really got to me. I felt glad that I was going out because I don't think I could have talked to any of them normally by sufficiently hiding my irritation. I mentioned to Samson that the noise had kept me up and that I was feeling really tired, but he didn't say much about it. After getting ready, I left to meet my friends. Samson walked me part way to the bus stop and then went to get a paper and some breakfast, as the house guests were still asleep in the living room, which leads onto the kitchen.

For a wild change, I was the first one to arrive at the restaurant for our lunch date and remained the first one for almost 20 minutes. I'm usually the late one, so it was only fair that I was kept waiting! Ms. Blunt and Ms. Benetton arrived eventually and we got talking, noting that it had been 10 years since we started at uni together and reminiscing over some of the memories we had of that time. We shared our various updates, them having much to say about work as usual, since they both have interesting jobs which they both seem to enjoy, or at least gain some fulfilment from. They laughed in disbelief when I told them NY Guy had got married and both agreed they were very glad I had met Samson. I asked Ms. Benetton about her ex-boyfriend, who had been finding it hard to let go when we had last spoken. She had told him not to contact her anymore. She explained that he had called her recently, as if nothing had happened and had wanted to meet for a drink. In the end, she agreed to give one last chance to a friendship, knowing that if he messed things up, which she knew he undoubtedly would, she would have good reason to cut him off for good. As she described their meeting and the fallout that occurred consequently, I felt disturbed at how much I could see echoes of my own experiences with The Ex. It was clear listening to her experience that her ex was unhinged and not grasping reality, using guilt and mind games to manipulate her. I couldn't believe how clear it was and how similar the situation sounded to my own, but only now that I was out of it. She had taken that as a clear last sign that she needed him out of her life and was planning to change her number. I was really pleased for her. It sounds like such a trivial, simple thing to do, but only when you've been involved in that kind of situation with such an emotionally manipulative person can you understand quite how much strength, energy and courage that takes. The food was delicious and we lingered over our meals, dessert and hot drinks to finish. When we parted company, I got the bus back to Samson's, realising that I didn't actually have much time until I was meant to meet The Mrs and her boy that evening.

When I got back, Samson was alone in the flat, which I was thankful for. I was still grumpy due to my lack of sleep and grumpier now I realised that I probably wouldn't have time for a nap before meeting The Mrs. Samson was watching the Grand Prix in the living room, so I escaped to the bedroom to check a few things on my laptop and then have a lie-down, with the hope of catching a few minutes' shut-eye. Samson came in when the race had finished and we added layers of clothing in preparation for the cold outside, before leaving to meet The Mrs and her Mr down the road before heading to the fireworks display. As we walked to the tube station to meet them, Samson could tell I was not happy. He asked what was wrong and I told him that my lack of sleep because of his inconsiderate housemates was the cause of my mood. "It was a Saturday night," he answered in their defence, seemingly oblivious to how rude it had felt to me, Saturday night or not. "I'll remember that then," I said, feeling that any further discussion would be futile, that in my current mood I would likely say something hurtful that I would regret and that I would make a mental note to make as much noise as I freakin' felt like if we ever came home late on a Saturday night and they were in bed.

I knew it wasn't a good time for an argument, but in hindsight I probably should have just let loose and got that gripe off my chest. Instead, I pulled away from Samson and resisted his attempts to be affectionate, then felt slightly peeved for the rest of the evening. We met The Mrs and her boy at the tube station and then walked for about 15 minutes trying to a.) find a toilet and b.) find somewhere decent but cheap to eat. Eventually we passed a Chinese takeaway/fish and chip shop, where Samson, The Mrs and I bought a portion of chips each and The Boy bought the same but with a container of special chow mein. It was a few more minutes' walk to the next tube station (there are four along that stretch), so we got on the train there and got off at the next stop, which was the closest to the park we were going to. Apparently, half the borough were also going there, and we joined the crowd of people trying to leave the tube station and walk to the park. It was quite cool being part of a huge group, knowing you are all going towards the same place. It was an eclectic mix of people - the usual annoying trendies who are a relatively recent addition to that area, families with small children, young couples, students probably from the nearby uni (my own alma mater) and groups of teenagers.

We got to the park about 10 minutes before the show was about to start and stood talking, while they released a few Chinese lanterns into the sky and people around us waved sparklers, light sabres and tea lights and apparently smoked weed in equal measures, if the smell in the air was anything to go by. Eventually they announced that the show was starting and that while also commemorating Bonfire/Fireworks Night, they were also commemorating the 70th anniversary of The Blitz, mentioning that some survivors from the local area were present. I wasn't altogether sure that a fitting memorial to the start of the WWII air bombings of London was setting off fireworks, but what do I know. The show started with the WWII sirens going off (which I always find slightly scary), spotlights searching the sky and then a recording of a man and woman singing London's Burning a capella. The fireworks started with a soundtrack of 40s songs, including the old Vera Lynn favourite We'll Meet Again. The fireworks were actually really good. I can't remember when I last saw a live fireworks show, but I'd forgotten how pretty and spectacular they are. I felt a little like a child again and embraced the warm feeling, which seemed to override my grumpiness temporarily.

It was all over too quickly, which was to be expected I suppose, seeing as it was a free show. The crowds turned back the way they had came and we made our exit, much slower and more claustrophobia-inducing than our entrance had been. We made slow progress as the leaving hoards bottlenecked the narrow exit and residential street it opened out on to. The Mrs was worried she might have a mini panic attack and I wasn't surprised, since I was also feeling a little uncomfortable, but we eventually made our way through the crush and walked back to the tube station. It was a short but sweet visit, marred only by my mood and therefore probably the effect it had on the atmosphere. We separated near the tube station, hugging each other before going our separate ways. Samson and I walked halfway back down the road before catching a bus the rest of the way. I felt exhausted. My ankles and hips were really aching and sore and I was feeling quite tired, even though it was only some time after 9pm.

When we got back, I got in bed and didn't really want to talk to Samson, but we somehow got around it. He massaged my calf muscles for me, which were killing me and killed slightly more as he needled them and dug into the tender parts, but I knew he was loosening up the muscles and that they'd feel much better the next day. I felt sad, knowing how irritated and hateful I had been feeling inside, knowing that he always bears the brunt of that, but still doesn't react negatively. I don't feel like I deserve the way he treats me and am constantly waiting for the time he snaps and shouts at me, says something cruel or dismissive, or something equally negative. I still also feel guilty for being annoyed at him about anything, even if I know it is justified, at least to a degree. We eventually went to sleep, but this time I wasn't disturbed by anything other than the thoughts in my head.

Indestructible

There is a souped-up dance version of this that is the actual single release, but I personally love Robyn's acoustic version of her song Indestructible, as released on the Body Talk Pt. 2 album.

"And I never was smart with love,
I let the bad ones in and the good ones go, but
I'm gonna love you like I've never been hurt before,
I'm gonna love you like I'm indestructible.
Your love is ultra-magnetic and it's taking over,
This is hardcore and I'm indestructible..."

Every Step

A song for the ladies I know that this could relate to...

Every Step by Charlie Winston

















I'm a fool to be kind to you;
It's not what the men in your life tend to do
Must be so strange ; finding someone
Who only accepts you
Rejection's a lesson you've had
You're lost in the anger you feel for your Dad
But, Oh, how he loves you,
There's no doubt
With all his high hopes for you.
I could push you away
I could say I don't want you no more
I could drive you right into the floor
And tell you are useless ;
Get used to it Lady
But I'm big in believing that baby,
You're bigger than that
It's respect for yourself that you lack
And success ; it's a mood that you chose
With every step

I want to grow old with you
To hold your old hand and look back on our youth
I will be strong. Times I might not
I'm only human

I could push you away
I could say I don't want you no more
I could drive you right into the floor
And tell you are useless ;
Get used to it Lady
But I'm big in believing that baby,
You're bigger than that
It's respect for yourself that you lack
And success ; it's a mood that you chose
With every step

So, be free like a bumble bee
Spread wings like a bird
Squawk like a peacock and
Let your voice be heard , it's ok
I have no lock, key or a cage
You've got to want to stay

I won't push you away
I won't say I don't want you no more
I won't drive you right into the floor
But I'll tell you you're beautiful ;
Get on with it Lady,
Cause I'm big in believing that, Baby,
You're bigger than that
It's respect for yourself that you lack
And success ; it's a mood that you chose
With every step
So take step
It's just step by step

Random Stuff.

So, it’s the warmest day of the year so far. You wouldn’t know it. It’s overcast and extremely dreary-looking outside. Come on Summer, don’t be shy! Oi, I said don’t be shy, dammit!!!

Things are rather boredom-inducing at the mojo. Work is a bit quiet – meaning the days tend to drag a little – and is generally not especially stimulating or challenging. I would say “at least it pays the bills,” but due to some extremely lean months what with Big Sis being out of work and my usual lack of control when it comes to spending, it has barely done even that. A random enquiry last month led to the discovery that the loan I thought would be paid off this summer, won’t in fact be paid off till next summer. A slight set-back (and an understatement).

It’s my birthday on Saturday and I can’t afford to celebrate! Pants, really. I think Samson is coming over on Saturday at least, we’ll probably just chill and then he said he’d take me out for dinner on Sunday. The weather is at least meant to be hot over the weekend, but if it’s as dreary and sunshine-devoid as today, then I’d rather it was cool, to be honest. I have taken tomorrow off work, mainly to get my hair cut (I’m in desperate need, I am rocking the crazy bush woman look, but for real - it ain’t pretty). Then lucky ol’ me has to go to the hospital for a blood test afterwards (please Lord, help me not to faint while all on my own), before returning home to do a spot of tidying up and putting stuff up for sale on eBay (as I am always saying I will do, but never actually get around to). This time I will do it. I have three boxes of stuff piled up (and that’s not even all of it) and my camera ready to take photos of everything. I want to have listed the complete contents of at least one of the boxes (which may not sound a lot, but most of the items are small things like jewellery) by Friday late afternoon. Big Sis didn’t realise what I was doing and after looking through the bowl full of rings I currently have on top of the boxes yesterday, asked, “Are you going to open a shop?” Actually, she’s not far wrong.

The following weekend is a three-day one, thanks to the bank holiday, so I may try and have a mini belated celebration then. Lolly was thinking of a reload on her 30^th, as when we went out for that she had so much work stress on her mind she didn’t enjoy herself as much as she should have. I quite like the idea of doing something just after my birthday, as there will be less pressure then for everything to go right. I don’t know why, but sometimes having birthday plans can be more stressful than enjoyable.

Samson has been very sweet, asking what I want to do and not giving up, despite me giving him such helpful answers as, “dunno,” and “whatever.” Today, he was making suggestions about where we could go and I suddenly started to feel uncomfortable and upset. A quick self-evaluation gave me the realisation that I don’t like or trust being told about what someone wants to do or is going to do. I’ve heard such pledges way too many times previously, and muggins here, with my some-time unquenchable desire to believe the good in people and my stupidly large supply of second chances, allowed myself to be let down so often that now I don’t feel able to recognise a reliable person, never mind trust anything they say with the same unwavering faith as I used to. Quite why all this makes me uncomfortable with making dinner plans isn’t completely clear to me, but if I fully understood all the reasons behind my issues and how to get over them, I wouldn’t be this f***ed up in the first place.

Speaking of f***ed up, I bumped into The Ex recently. Haha, like that association? Maybe I’ll save that for another post…

What You Want Back

Oh, life. When do you become what I want you to be?

Things are still see-sawing a little at the moment, but perhaps not as erratically as before. After trying to come off my meds gradually and taking them every other day rather than daily for about a month, I’ve decided to go daily again. I haven’t been coping particularly well, and although there are some things that have improved since I started on them last summer, not enough has significantly changed in either my life or my mindset to make things bearable without them. I found that even after the initial withdrawal (where I cried an unnatural amount in a short space of time) had passed, I was still feeling too up and down. At first, I had wanted to stop taking them because I felt that things were a little better. I didn’t want to be relying on the meds in case things suddenly got worse and then what would I do, have to take a stronger dose? I also hadn’t really wanted to take them for longer than a year if possible, although I’ve realised that setting arbitrary deadlines without assessing how I feel is pointless, unwise and potentially harmful. It’s a bit like deciding you want to lose weight and setting a random goal of how much weight you want to lose, so your ‘achievement’ can me measured quantifiably, rather than seeing how you look and feel as you go along.

My mistake was mentioning that I was going to start coming off my medication to both Big Sis and my Mum. Both seemed happy that I had made that decision, which I can understand, but I then found that it added more pressure on to me to stick to the decision, even when I wasn’t sure that it had really been the right one for me at this time. I tried it, I gave it a good go, I stuck through the initial withdrawal period, but I found that things weren’t settling. So I made the decision to start taking them daily again. I have to keep reminding myself that this is the right decision for me, that the opinions of others don’t matter as much as my own experience and that whatever course of action someone suggests to me, I am the one who has to deal with the consequences. The Mrs. has been reassuring me that I have to make the best decision for me and that it isn’t anyone else’s business what I decide to do about my own mental health. I am feeling better for having started taking them daily again, just more stable. I know I am still suffering from depression, although I am feeling slightly happier and more contented at times, but being emotionally more stable is good enough for me at the moment. Work has continued to monitor my attendance and I was referred to Occupational Health for another assessment after missing a couple more days due to migraines. I was off sick one day just before my assessment because I just couldn’t face going in because I was feeling so low. Thankfully things have settled a bit more, but I don’t entirely see the benefit of these assessments to me. Unfortunately, subsequent to my assessment, I have to have another meeting with HR and with my line manager in two weeks’ time. Really not looking forward to that.

I had hoped that 2010 would be the year I finally saw the back of any negative past relationship influences, and it has so far lived up to expectations. I heard nothing from either The Ex or NY Guy after after our last contact in October/November and just before Christmas respectively. The Ex, because I told him I didn’t want to talk to him anymore and NY Guy because he had a new girlfriend. Randomly, at the end of January I had a missed call from NY Guy. I checked my old phone, which Big Sis uses for our home church group, and found he had also called that. When I next logged into Instant Messenger, he had sent an IM with a bland “Hi.” I wondered why he was contacting me, but didn’t bother to respond. Then, in mid-February, Big Sis told me there were a few messages on my old phone. This time from The Ex. A missed call and then a text saying that he knows I’d asked him not to contact me anymore, but that he wanted to wish me a belated (understatement) new year and see how I was. He asked me to please think about contacting him, even if it was just a text. I felt bad temporarily and briefly contemplated responding, but knew the best thing to do was ignore it. Despite the nicety of the text, I know him way too well to fall for it. It’s a manipulative ploy to worm his way back into contact with me and probably my affections too. I ignored it. A couple of weeks ago, I stayed at Samson’s and woke up on Sunday morning due to sunlight streaming in through the blinds. I checked my phone and saw a text from NY Guy, sent the night before: “I’m sorry Em, I truly am. I finally know how you felt.” It was a bold out of the blue and caught me when I was already feeling a bit down. I wasn’t sure what he meant, or what had prompted him to contact me and to say what he had said. What exactly is he sorry for? How does he know how I felt? In what way? I wondered if he was still with the girl he was seeing and whether things had gone wrong in a way that helped him understand the things I had been unhappy with when we were together. I pondered on it and then eventually mentioned it to The Mrs and to Lolly. They were both suitably dismissive, saying in different ways that it was pathetic and I should ignore it. I was rather curious about what he meant and although I didn’t think I should respond, I wasn’t completely against the idea at first. Mini Me told me that he’d had more than enough chances with me and that to respond to him wouldn’t be fair on Samson. That kind of hit me. After a few days, the curiosity gradually wore off enough that any desire to contact him had faded. I’ve since had dreams about both NY Guy and The Ex and am annoyed at how they both still get into my head. I guess when someone has been a significant influence in your life for a good few years, it probably takes a similar length of time for that effect to disappear completely.

The only person who hasn’t contacted or tried to contact me in any way is BFTP. I suppose at least he’s consistent. He did it the first time around and despite all his promises to not do it ever again, he did the same thing, but at least he stuck to it. Maybe I’ll hear from him in another 10 years, explaining things. Maybe I’ll never hear from him the rest of my life. Maybe I’ll find out one day if NY Guy finally really could see things from my point of view and what happened to make him see it. Maybe The Ex will finally get over his own insecurities and issues with control and find someone who can give him as good as they get. Maybe I will be able to trust people fully again, to not let the insecurities and issues and fear of abandonment affect how I treat other people, how I view myself, or how I deal with my relationship with Samson. I don’t want to take any negative of the past with me into the future. Other than the picnic blanket I’ve had since I was little that BFTP accidentally took home with him last summer. I’d like that returned to me, please.