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Posts Tagged ‘relationships’

He has lines, and I wanted to cross them. I needed to be dirt under his nails, sweat from his pores. There’s something enticing about someone who wants you despite his own guilt, who knows he’ll fuck the whole thing up. A year of ‘look but don’t touch’ and I had to push him.

When he kissed me, there was no hesitance, no slow build. He tastes earthy, salty, but surprisingly sweet. His hands felt rough on my face, his body against mine brand new but achingly familiar, a sense of coming home. He lived a whole life before I even existed, with his own hopes and ideals and fuck-ups and bullshit. There’s something sexy about someone with scars and lines and baggage. Who has experience and prejudice and set opinions, a sharp contrast to my changeable ideals, my fluidity towards life.

Of course it was over almost immediately, not severed completely, because people can be addictive. There is no happy ending here, but also no expectations. I shattered the fantasy. We hurt each other. I’ve never wanted something so totally unattainable like this. It doesn’t exist in reality.

So sometimes we pretend.

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Being single has blown me wide open. A couple of years ago I could never have imagined myself being deliberately, consciously alone, craving that time with myself rather than just as a default, in-between state. My relationships have gotten deeper, including with my son, as we’ve adjusted to life being how it is; feeling full instead of that man shaped space next to me.

It makes me smile when my friends and family crack one liners like ‘someone needs to make an honest woman out of you’, ‘you’re hell on men’, and the ever-popular ‘I can understand you being a commitment-phobe now, after everything’. I’m not alone. I’m not commitment phobic. I’m committed to my friends and my son and my life but mostly I’m committed to myself, and there’s something special about that. It makes me laugh when well-meaning relatives click their tongues and sympathise, ‘the right one will come along when you’re not looking for him’.

Maybe he will, and maybe he won’t. and I’ll be whole either way. I haven’t had an actual date in probably a year and occasionally I’d like to go on one, but then I just do something nice for myself instead. I have a market stall with my best friend now, and I love meeting people and getting to know customers – people reveal so much about themselves when there’s no expectations and no formality. It’s so cool, all these quirky amazing people from all walks of life. I love it.

I’m getting along better with Bailey’s dad, we’re not quite friends, but we’re communicating effectively. I want good things for him. We’re not looking like dragging each other through court now, and I know we could get into a massive argument tomorrow, throw goodwill out the window and try to destroy each other, but I don’t think it will happen. This feels like a genuine shift. I stood up for myself – without shouting, arguing or attacking. And it worked, I think. He can’t walk all over me and he respects me as the parent who sticks by Bailey no matter what, who finds solutions and doesn’t make him into someone he’s not. I respect him as Bailey’s father who loves him, and I leave them to their relationship, even though it’s not my ideal. That letting go is hard, but it has to happen, and I do it again and again.

There’s this sense of freedom and possibility that has come with being single for me, once I got through the (horrific, gut-wrenching, sickness inducing) pain of separation, that is. I’ve been able to get to know myself, be authentic and uncompromising. I think our education system would put my son through pain, so I pulled him out and he stays home. I lived at the beach for a year because I felt like it. I came back because I thought it was our best option. I sell hemp products because I believe that’s important. I didn’t have to debate with anyone about those decisions. I didn’t have to consider anyone’s feelings except mine and my now 7 year old son’s.

I’m not shunning the idea of a relationship, but I’m loving where I’m at, especially after how long it took me to get here. This has been the hardest, most worthwhile work of my life. When I have a bad day, I know it’s just a day, and I don’t need anyone to fix it for me. I had never experienced being able to soothe myself. I’ve always been with someone or pining over someone or had a fall-back person. This whole ‘love yourself and life is not bullshit’ thing actually holds some credibility, who knew?

Sunsets are just as beautiful alone.

Ash xx

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‘Who knows, and does it matter?’ I scratched a pattern on the sheet. ‘I don’t think I need to define it. I’ve been there. Straight. I’m straight. But then I’m not.’

She yawned, luxuriously, not bothering to cover herself as she stretched. ‘Maybe it doesn’t matter. I just think that I deserve to know. Is this real?’

‘It’s as real as anything else.’

*******

All of my relationships have been with men. Nice, not so nice, tall, blonde, funny, smart, but all of them men. Writers and labourers and dealers and doctors. So would you assume I’m ‘straight’? Does it matter?

All of that, relationships and rules and limits, seems so far away now, almost alien. 

It took me so long to drop the labels. I wish they didn’t exist. Sexuality, to me, is gorgeous and intrinsic and can be so, I don’t know, fluid? It’s so hard to put what I’m trying to say into writing. I wish no-one had to ‘come out’, and we would just love who we love and that’s it. Isn’t it odd to have all these expectations and boxes and contracts. I understand the level of relief some people must feel when their sexuality has a name and is accepted. I’ve just always felt sort of…straight-jacketed, I guess… by labels, but it seems like society is so uncomfortable and overly invested in people not having one, and I’m insecure enough to let that bother me still.

Some experiences just are what they are, whether it’s a lasting enduring love, a passing attraction, or one intense night with someone. I don’t want to over-think and label everything. It truly doesn’t matter, and life is swirly and confusing and connections with people are special. 

I still can’t touch what I’m saying. I’ve slept with people I’ve loved and disliked and felt ambivalence towards. I change. It changes. Needs and wants change. Can your sexuality change? I don’t know. Do people have a true base sexuality that fits into one of five (? that I can think of) categories and are the layers on top a nature vs nurture type deal? Why does it matter? People do care who you sleep with. No one ‘comes out’ as straight. 

Freedom in all ways can be so intoxicating, and sometimes it seems like there’s no rules left. 

So beautiful.

x

 

 

 

 

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I had an awesome post written in my head last night, and when I woke up, -poof- , gone.  I’ve been struggling cognitively a little this week, losing shoes, keys, what I was about to say. Something distressing happened and I’m still ok. That’s the first thing I just plucked out of the space above my head. The kind of event that would usually make me cut and run, because it’s what I do, but I’m not and I won’t.

I haven’t been around much lately, I’m two days into the week long treatment I’ve been waiting for, that silver bullet, and it’s working. I can feel it. I know it the same way I know the sun will set tonight, what cool sand feels like between my toes.

Even though cancer cells are being zapped into oblivion as I write this, I would appreciate anyone keeping their fingers crossed for me 🙂

I have just enough hair to pull into a ponytail, and of course that’s when it starts coming out, my hands coated with dark strands in the shower, and instead of drinking half a bottle of vodka, losing my shit and shaving it completely I just go with it, trust the process, maybe I’ll lose it all maybe I won’t, but it’s actually not the most important problem I have, even if I feel like I’ve been punched in the stomach. I wish someone had told me that you can let yourself feel pain and loss, and that’s all you have to do, just feel it. Not drink through it, run from it, fight it.

Just feel it.

And it’s ok.

I got to thinking about why I decided to come here this year, and even though I had some vague ideals about homeschool and some mental space and recovery, it was pretty much an instinctive pull. The thing is, this year has obviously been absolutely nothing like I expected but thank God I’m here. If all this had happened at home, it would have been 200% harder to cope with. I still want to go back – no, I’ll be honest, I need to go back, to sort shit out one way or another. Either way, I was meant to be here this year, and I’m betting that next year I’ll either settle in up the hill or decide on another long term prospect. Bottom line, I usually end up where I’m supposed to be.

I wish someone had told me I could trust myself.

I’m learning.

Another thing I was thinking about (yeah, I tend to think really intensely while poisons are seeping into my bloodstream, and my iphone is taken away) was that ‘Bucket List’ I wrote, and how I’ve done exactly one thing from it.

It was the fun item, and it was excellent and I did do it more than once <grin>.

Anyway, I started a mental re-write, and if I needed anymore proof that I’ve changed, that was it.  I want to write letters to people, just in case. I want to explore a healthy, simple lifestyle. I want to nurture myself and Bailey.

I want to detox my life, cull my possessions, focus on relationships and experiences more.

I’d still like to fall in love with someone else, it hasn’t happened yet – but I have fallen out of love, and I think that’s step one.

Sad as it may be, it’s necessary.

So, that’s where I’m at.

How are you guys?

x

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A manly man.

A man who comes across strong, but who can also be sensitive. Someone who is openly affectionate. Muscles and (tasteful) tattoos would be a plus.

I want a man with laugh-lines, nice teeth and sparkly eyes. A man with a sense of humor, who can string a sentence together.

I’m not going to have one though, because deep deep down I really don’t want it for Bailey. I just…without judging anyone…I don’t agree with blended families. I’ve never seen one, that as a child, I’d want to be a part of. As a child from a ‘previous relationship’ anyway.

Seriously, never, and I just can’t imagine it feeling right.

Add to that the fact that I’m not willing (and possibly not able) to have another child, I don’t think I have it in me to be a half-decent step-parent… Most decent men in my age range have young kids, or want some.

I do wonder, if this is why things get worse with how I feel about Craig instead of better, because even though I pretend sometimes… I know in my heart I’m not going to make it work with anyone else. For at least another 15 years anyway.

Sucks for me. I don’t need a relationship…but sometimes I’d like one. Put simply, I like men. I love that guy smell, strong arms, holding hands. I love the strength that good men radiate.

Maybe I’m wrong, and I’ll fall head over heels for someone who suits me, and we’ll work it out together. I very much doubt it, but stranger things have happened :).

It won’t happen until I actually separate properly from Craig though… and really it’s time to anyway. I can’t go on like this. It’s killing me. After the last few weeks…I want to write him a letter…stating everything that’s happened between us…how badly he’s hurting me with this back and forth, maybe, maybe not. How I feel when he watches me go through cancer alone…sleeps with me, and leaves. And I’ll ask him to leave me alone unless something changes with him, and I know that he will and that’s terrifying.

Fuck.

*****

I had tests last week after spending most of the week before at the hospital…we had some pretty extreme heat here and I just didn’t cope with the vomiting and ended up really dehydrated and just sick.

My results were better than expected -cautious smile- so I’m quietly relieved about that 🙂

Bailey got to go to a wedding – he had a rad time apparently…I threw up in a potplant outside waiting for him to get off the dancefloor. It was at the Sheridan…how classy of me…

IMG_1725

Much love

x

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is just the most beautiful child.

 And now he is FIVE

He is funny and smart and brave and kind.

He loves books, animals, anything with wheels, cooking, being tickled and pony rides.

He doesn’t like loud noises, crowds, being bossed around and the naughty corner. Or spiders.

I love him more than life, more than I knew I could.

‘I love you Mummy’

‘I love you, my darling’

‘I feel how I love you in my chest. And when you make my bed warm. And cook chicken the best’

If I could only ever do one thing right in life, I’d want it to be looking after my Bailey.

x

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Back

Back I go.

Back to waiting rooms, to mindless hours.

Back to aching with tiredness, joints stretched out.

Back to pimples, bags under my eyes.

Back to forms, all with the same information.

Back to everything tasting different, with a metallic edge.

Back to the wet blanket of energy on my shoulders.

Back I go.

x

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Taking Time

This feels too hard, already.

I’m not sure what to say, except I am going through some stuff right now, and I just need a bit of time. I am doing what I have to, and that feels too hard.

Apologies to all my ‘blog-friends’, I know I haven’t been commenting etc, I will be right back with you when life settles 🙂 Thankyou so much to those of you who have offered me support, guidance and empathy this year. The genuine warmth I feel from virtual strangers, mostly on the other side of the world never fails to give me hope for society.

To the very few ‘real-life friends’ who read this, thankyou for hanging in there with me this year.  I’m sorry I have fallen a little off the radar lately, my brain is just fried and I am struggling. I’m sorry if I said I’d call you back, email you and then didn’t.  I’m sorry if I haven’t seemed interested, have forgotten your birthday, or just been uncaring. I do care, and of course I’d pull myself together if anyone really needed me.  It’s just….hard….right now, to even follow a conversation.  Small talk, idle chit chat just feels so distant and unrelatable.  I feel like I have nothing to say to anyone, and smiling and nodding is about the best I can do, until someone presses a little harder, digs deeper, and I just want to spew out a barrage of emotions and fears and information that is best left for therapy, not that I say much there, either.

I want to be back to myself, and I am trying, but please don’t be too disappointed in me if I fail.  And if you are, maybe keep it to yourself.  I know I have disappointed a few people this year who have told me so, and I’m sure there are a few more who haven’t told me so. And there are the few who have pretty much cut me off completely, but that happens, and really it’s preferable to being told ‘pull your socks up’, ‘get it together’ or ‘I thought you were better/stronger/tougher than this’.  And I’m not going to start with the ‘you should’ statements.

Theres not much anyone could say that I haven’t said to myself a thousand times over, but it still hurts.  And I do know how frustrating it can be watching someone seemingly make alot of painful choices, but you never really know how they’re feeling, the entire circumstances, and the effect you could have.

Anyway, now I’m just rambling.  Long story short, anything that has been said or done with the right intent I have appreciated immensely, even if I haven’t shown it. Anything said with a layer of judgement, condescension, selfishness or superiority I haven’t 🙂

If nothing else, I know who my true friends are now.  And I’m grateful 🙂

*******

So Craig said he wanted to come home, pretty much as soon as I completely gave up.

Life is funny like that.

I feel like I’m the one who needs some time now.  How does 8 fucking months sound to start with, while he tries to come up to my impossible standards?

It’s what I wanted, not in the way I wanted, and maybe too late….

Of course I’ll end up trying, I’m such a fucking optimist like that.

Or maybe I’m not, anymore….

x

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I’m going to tell Craig that I’m done with this pretending to be married when it suits him only, done with him treating me however he likes, done with rewarding his passivity by welcoming him back when he decides to rock up and throw a few relationship crumbs my way.

I’m not totally giving up on the relationship, just leaving it with him.  And I know I’ve been here before, but I’m stronger now, I hope.  And I don’t have anyone waiting in the wings to catch me for probably the first time in my life.

I’m not going to lie. Well, not here anyway.  I hope like hell he has some kind of epiphany on how to treat people, realises what he has put me through, does something awesome to make up for it and then we live happily ever after.

I know the chances are about 1736.562 trillion to 1, but hope floats.

I love him, but I need to love myself too.

And this is bullshit.

And I’m not coping, and have told him that.  Clearly didn’t mean too much to him, because here we are.  At the end of my fucking tether, with my brain about to explode out of my ears.

I have made myself sick over this, I have tried every approach from just waiting, to making ultimatums, to counselling to sort all my issues out, to being so fucking nice I make myself sick (because he can’t handle arguments) no matter how uncaring he is, to telling him straight exactly what I/ we need, to begging asking him to come back, to telling him I need a decision.  If there’s a method I haven’t tried, I’d love to hear it.

And he still won’t treat me how I need, he still won’t choose to be with me and Bailey fully, and that sucks.

Sure, he has done alot of lovely things for me, always buys me things, and is basically nice.

He also left me to go through cancer alone, and then pretty much had a tanty when my lovely daycare lady inadvertently mentioned that Bailey had spent a couple of extra days in her care, and that she was going to apply for a special grant for me.

He lied to me about another woman texting him, while I was having a miscarriage. I mean, when I was literally sitting on the couch, still bleeding, trying not to cry.

During the first conversation about said woman, we got onto talking about what we say about each other, and I said that I still say nice things about him, and asked if he’d said one nice thing about me to her, and he replied with ” I can’t really tell people what I like about you, I don’t kiss and tell”.  I was stupid enough to continue the conversation and he ended up saying “What? You’re a good fuck. It’s a compliment.” And then got annoyed at me for being pissed off, because he was obviously joking.

And he never used to be like this, I swear. That is where the guilt comes from, because what if he is sick, really sick, and I am just walking away? 

I’m sick, I get help, because I don’t want to inflict it on my family. I know it is not always that simple though.

I’ve begged him to get counselling.  It’s been 8 months.  I’ve begged him to see a decent Dr, and to be honest with them.  I don’t know what else to do.

Sounds awful, but if it’s me or him, I have to choose me. And that is what this is coming down to.  To be crude, I have more balls at my worst that he does at his best, and my son needs a parent, not someone who’s fun to play with when he feels like it, and who buys him cool toys.

 Fuck, I feel sick writing this, but if I publish it, plus tell some friends, maybe I won’t back out.

*deep breath, squeeze your eyes shut, and jump*

x

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If you let it.

 

This ‘thing’ with Craig, has been burning me for so long. This month is 8 months since we ‘separated’, 11 months since we got married.

But it was burning me long before that, if I’m honest with myself.  Which I’m starting to be. 

I still want him.

But as I just wrote, relationships take 2, not 1.

And I’ve just about had enough of feeling like a fucking doormat.  I’m starting to feel a bit over it, which I think is a good sign, because until now, I’ve just felt sad, dead and tired. 

Things have been better between us, lately.  I don’t think he realises it’s because I’ve just stopped expecting anything.

When you have no expectations, everything is a bonus.

He generally stays up for the weekend, and sometimes one night during the week.  He comes in on a Friday, I’m lucky if I get a hello.  No chance of a kiss or hug.  The last two weeks, I asked him to grab Bailey from daycare so I could have one night where I can go to work a bit later and not have to worry about coordinating daycare pickup, work hours and trying not to bring the horses in when it’s still really hot.

He sighs, says he’s tired from work.

I say, but he’s expecting you, he gets excited on Fridays because he knows you’re picking him up.

Alright, whatever.

Bailey loves his Daddy, idolises him, and that breaks my heart.

 

*****

Having said all that, things usually pick up on the Saturday.  And I enjoy his company, and we have fun together.

I don’t know if what I feel is love anymore.

I think I want to stop fighting, let it fade, and see what happens.

Either he’ll pick up the slack, or he wont.

He won’t, I already know that.  But I want him to.

‘and I’m weeping, warm honey and milk’

 He won’t, and it’ll fade out, and that’s ok.

I’ll be ok.

x

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