Archive for August, 2011

day today, for some reason.

When I read back what I write here, I think it might seem like every day is painful.  And it is, to a degree.  In general, it’s more of a numbness, a fog, with underlying sadness.  Just a general blah feeling, and some anxiety which doesn’t take alot to trigger.  Not like the awful gut-wrenching pain I feel today.

I’m grateful I don’t feel everything every day, because I couldn’t cope.  Couldn’t get out of bed I don’t think.

Today my pain and Bailey’s pain seem to be clashing, coming together like a car crash, where you can hear the metal twisting and grinding, can smell the burning.  He’d been quiet all morning, cuddlier than usual.  So we’ve been reading books, spending time together quietly.  I’ve been able to feel his pain, and I know he can feel mine.


“Yes darling?”

“You know my Daddy?”

“Sure do”

“He used to live here, remember?” Huge blue eyes filling with tears as I gather him in my lap.

“I remember honey”

In the same tone of awe he reserves for talking about when he was allowed to climb all the way into the massive truck at work, when he had 3 ladybirds land on him or when we go outside at night to look at the stars and sing Twinkle Twinkle, he says,

“I loved that, magical”

With tears running down his face.

I couldn’t even respond.


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Fuck Him.

Seriously, fuck you Craig!!

Could kill him right now, seriously.  Fuck.

Really don’t know what the fuck his deal is.

So he came up, brought dinner, I pretty obviously feel, and look, like hell.  We put B-man to bed, sat down on the couch.

Silence, blank look, so I say, “what’s up?”

“Nothing, what’s up with you?”

“You wanted to talk”

“We don’t have to”

“I’m going to have an anxiety attack and possibly die if you don’t tell me what you wanted to talk about”


-long silence-

“I just wanted to say I still don’t know”

That’s when I shot him.  Well, mentally.  But if I’d been holding a gun…

“Are you serious?” -very restrained-

“The dinners we’ve been having, I’ve enjoyed them, and I feel hopeful, but then I think what if it’s the same?  I was hopeful things were getting better, but then Thursday”

Backstory – Thursday we were having a rare chat on skype, about a new computer for uni which then led onto other things.  He was pretty uncaring, my feelings were hurt, I pulled him up on it. Same old shit.

“That’s the point, we have to commit to making it not be the same”

And it went on from there, I tried to explain to him that two therapists pretty much took the words out of my mind about his passivity in the relationship and it’s effects.  He got shitty, said he was leaving, I said don’t, don’t speak to me like that, don’tyou speak to me like that…

Blah, blah FUCKING blah.

Once that settled slightly, I brought up me and Bailey living here for the next year.  He says its a great idea and looked relieved. Of course that perversely pissed me off right at that moment.  But whatever, free accommodation for the rest of this year and all of next year, at least.

And, because I’m a total bitch, I hinted at the fact I’m seeing someone else.  I pretty much told him he’s being selfish stringing me along, and that it’s not just my opinion.  My therapist has said so too, well without actually being so direct, my friends have said so, you guys have commented to say so.

“Did you tell all these people that think I’m selfish, that I’m not expecting you to wait around?”

“Yes, I’ve told them the absolute truth about everything, you’re still being incredibly selfish”

“But I’m not stopping you from doing anything, or starting anything”

“Would you care if I did? Started seeing someone I mean”

“Of course I’d care but I know it’s not for me to say.  I’ve made the decision not to, what you do is up to you.”

“Well, you know, I get lonely.  I like male company.”

“What you mean like…physically…or emotionally?”

“Both I guess?”

“So what, are you seeing other guys?”

“Yeah, they’re beating down the door. I don’t know, I think it might be good for me to go on a date occasionally.”

“How would you feel if I dated?”

“Like shit, homicidally angry”

“But it’s ok for you?”

“Well it’s different, you have the option of having me back, as your wife, full time.  If I had your options I certainly wouldn’t be dating anyone, I’d be working on my marriage.  But since you won’t give me any kind of answer, won’t commit to working it out with me, I think you’re being kind of unfair to act like it’s the same situation.”

-angry but defeated look, grinding jaw-

“I guess I can see your point”

Anyway, I’ll stop now.  Just had to get it out. Before he left I reiterated how FUCKED-UP and cruel he was to let me stress over a conversation for a FUCKING WEEK for him to say nothing new.  He actually seemed to feel bad, says it won’t happen again.  BETTER FUCKING NOT.  Then I told him he needs help.  Again.


If you made it this far, seriously, thankyou.



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before I go to work.

I have possibly the worst head cold known to man. It’s feral. I only just got dressed, and it’s 2:30pm.

Random Guy is coming to cook me dinner and generally shower me with no-strings, no obligation, no relationship necessary affection.  He says I’m worth getting sick for.  We’ll see what he says if he actually catches this I guess.

Craig has suddenly started being somewhat human.  It’s kind of blindsided me.  I don’t know how to act when he’s normal anymore.  Anyway we’re doing the Sunday dinner thing and he says he’d like to have a talk.  So I decided I was going to bring up the possibility of Bailey and I staying here, that I wrote about in my last post.

And as soon as I decided that for sure, Bailey, out of blue, suggested we move house.  It gave me chills.

I am the type of person who is receptive to ‘signs’.  From the universe, or whatever.  I do what ‘feels’ right, or what seems to be the natural progression.  Which is not necessarily the easiest course.   So of course that is going to fuck with my head a little bit.

Browsing the real estate site, saw a perfect looking rental.  -Deep breathes-

I guess I’ll see how the talk with Craig goes?



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…a little freak out.

I’ve been so focused on moving, so busy thinking I needed to leave, putting all the pieces together.  Organising, looking for rentals, schools, cleaning out our house.

I don’t want to leave now.  I want to stay here.  For another year.

I don’t know what’s wrong with me.

The thing is, I probably could.  Bailey doesn’t have to go to school next year.  Pre-primary is optional.  He could stay at daycare, and between that and myself, we could easily get him learning at the curriculum  level.

Truth being told, I actually don’t really believe in formal schooling in early childhood.  But that’s a whole other subject.

I could stay at my job.  I could finish my treatment.  I could probably bring my young horse back, start riding before Christmas.

I could give Craig and I some time, to work things out or not, without running from it.  I could actually work through some pain, instead of distracting myself with new scenery, new people.

Then I could arrange to move at the end of next year, make it a smart, informed decision, instead of a knee jerk reaction.  I could have a good chunk of uni done, hopefully have my health under some kind of control.

I’m better at running.

Maybe I just need to sleep more.


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If you haven’t listened to this song, please do. It’s….sublime….

And haven’t most of us felt this way about someone?


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Lately I haven’t been writing as honestly as I have previously.  There’s a couple of reasons, a couple of issues I am struggling with.  There are things I’ve done, recently, that I can’t quite believe.  I don’t know if I’m ashamed of my behaviour, or ashamed because I don’t feel ashamed enough.

I will write about it all at some point, so – especially if you’re one of the few who actually know me – consider yourself warned!! Hahahaha funny, or maybe not?

A couple of days I ago I wrote something…difficult…that I had intended on publishing, but then at the last minute decided to password it.  I can’t quite figure out why, I don’t know if it’s because it could be triggering to some people – its a rape post from a pretty personal POV -, or if I’m just still ashamed to have it out there.  If anyone wants to read it, and tell me what they think I’d appreciate it 🙂 Email me/comment for the password.


Such a gorgeous couple of days, a lovely sunny break in the winter weather 🙂 I’m officially allowed out, well as of a few days ago THANK GOD.  My little man is home and being adorable as usual.  My dog loves me 🙂


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Protected: Just to get it out…

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…unless you change.

If you do what you have always done, you will get what you’ve always gotten.

And all that.

Some of the sayings I keep in mind to repeat, every day, sometimes every hour.

I’m trying.

It’s like my brain wants to hang on.  When I drive home from work in the afternoons, I still feel absently surprised when he’s not here.  Then I remember. Again.  It hurts. Again.

At the shops, seeing something he’d like, I immediately think to get it for him.  Future plans, I immediately factor him in, even when I’m planning the move away from this house that reminds me so much of us.  Waking up on the weekend, I could swear I hear him and Bailey cooking breakfast in the moments before full consciousness.  Every day, a few of these occurrences, will it get better when I leave?

I know its just neural pathways, and I just need to make new ones.  It’s hard, though.




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Blog like no-one is reading, right?

Sometimes, I smoke.  I know.  I used to smoke, as a teenager.  I stopped, hmmm, just after my 21st, a few months before I fell pregnant with Bailey.  When Craig left, I had a few, socially, with friends, when I just couldn’t see anything else helping, when getting through the next five minutes felt impossible otherwise.  When my Dr told me I’d relapsed, I felt like my life was over.  I drove to the nearest service station and brought a pack, and sat at a park crying and smoking.

No, my cancer has nothing to do with smoking.  Yes, I do know better.  No, its not a permanent thing.  Yes, smoking is vile.

Sometimes, Craig and I still sleep together.  Yes, the actual sex is awesome.  Yes, I suspect it’s soul destroying.  Sure, maybe he’s using me, but if he is, then I guess I’m using him too.  It’s not really often, every few weeks on average.  I’m not good at going without sex, and he’s safe, anyway.  Yes, I need to learn some self control.

I have a stupidly high IQ.  I say stupidly high, because sometimes it’s seemed more like a disability than an advantage.  I was – according to my parents – talking in fluent sentences before I was walking, reading well before school etc.  Yet was tested for learning difficulties in high school.  I hate it when my family harass me because I haven’t ‘done anything’ with my life.  Intelligence doesn’t make up for trauma.  And yes, sometimes I wish I was dumb and just didn’t know better, with alot of things.  I know that sounds superior and ungrateful.

I hate judgement.  I hate when people think they know better than me about my life.  It annoys me when people begin sentences with “You need to”.  I don’t like it when people tell me how they would cope with my life.  But I envy the position they are in, to feel so secure in their emotions, in their sense of self, that they honestly believe they know how they’d cope if their life was mine.

I blame myself for him.  Of course I do.

I bite my nails.  I’ve managed to stop, mostly, but now I do it in my sleep.

I love Twilight. I know.

When Bailey was about 5 months old, he had two seizures, and I thought he was going to die.  I had to hold his arm down for the nurses at the hospital to put a drip in, and it was maybe the worst I’ve ever felt when he looked into my eyes and screamed.  Craig couldn’t deal, could never deal with needles, so he was outside the room.  I think I’ve always resented him a little for that, along with not dealing with similar needly things in my labour.

Think that’ll do for now!


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