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Day 166: Week 24 Weigh-in – 3 Michelin Stars

I’m thrilled to say that my little gamble to kick-start my stalled weight loss has paid off.

I am 0.66 pounds from losing four and a half stones!

The plan is to stay on Step 3 of the Cambridge Diet, eating 1000 calories a day until the weight loss stalls again. And when it does, I will step down to Step 2, that is, 810 calories.

Week Twenty four’s verdict: today’s weight 95.9 kg, week’s weight loss 1.1 kg (2.42 pounds); total weight loss; 28.5 kg (62.7 pounds)

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Day 165 – The Power of Positive Thinking

This has been a very busy week dealing with divorce crap.

It has also been busy in other ways getting bits and bobs done in my home instead of fuming at having to keep spending money when I have been 100% financially (and in every other ways), responsible for a house I only own half of.

My take is that I can carry on with my life and pay for repairs that add to my mental wellbeing, or I can suspend my life and stew with anger. I chose the former.

So, the electrician has been in, the plumber, the cleaner and I might even have the fence mended after my neighbour alerted me to a hidden section that had apparently been broken for nearly two years. Say what?

I have even started the seriously slow work of lovingly oiling the pergola and hard wood decking and restoring them to their beautiful, original colour which might take me the rest of the summer to complete. There I was rocking my Gucci sunglasses, sun hat, sunscreen, sun dress, staycation?

My back hurt like buggery after four hours oiling but I am extremely proud of myself. I don’t recognise the amazing, capable woman I am becoming…

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I have also started a gratitude book using a book my lovely friend Mandy gave me on my birthday in May. She wanted me to only write positive things in that book. I had only made two prior entries on my birthday and the day after…until now.

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When we are going through shitty times, it is very easy to forget all the great things and wonderful people that are still good in our lives.

It is easy to forget that we are still in a much better situation than a hell of a lot of people.

It is easy to forget that we still have a hell of a lot to be thankful to God, the universe or whatever we believe in.

This week, I have pledged that every single night before I go to bed, I will write down my gratitude list. Perhaps one day soon, I will share some of the items on those lists.

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Every night before I go to bed, I will also read my positive affirmations and visualise those affirmations as if they were all true. The sub-conscious mind is like a 5 year old and only understands the present and positive affirmations. It doesn’t understand the words “not”, “would”, “should” or “don’t”.

My affirmations are there to help me grow stronger every day. If this sounds way too new age, forgive me but desperate times call for desperate measures.

My affirmations will help me rebuild my dented self-esteem and appreciate that I am not merely rejected goods; I am beautiful, loveable and deserving of love, care, fidelity, loyalty and respect.

They will help me to keep making positive plans to move on with my life.

They will help me forget what was done to me, the anger, the unfairness that still keep me awake some nights (for I’m only human) and help me build the strength, both mentally and physically to start re-building my life in a positive manner.

Grief is funny business and I can’t predict how I will feel tomorrow or even in the next hour. I might be back to ranting about my circumstances and back to posting anger fuelled post.

But right now, this minute, I am thankful for the life I do have, the people in that life that give me joy and I am positive the future will get better.

I am slim.
I am beautiful.
I am confident.
I am lovable.
I am enough.
I meet challenges as they come.
I overcome adversity.
I rise to the occasion.
I am a survivor.
I have positive people in my life.
I am treated with care and respect by those I invite to be close to me.
I treat myself with care and respect because I am worth it.

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Day 164 – The Joy of Jeans

I’ve had a bit of a setback on the weight front but I’m working on it…

Given that I hadn’t lost much weight in the last 4 weeks, I purposely went off plan, gained a 1.2 kg in two days, hoping for a tried and tested whoosh on getting back to plan, but after being on plan 100% on Monday, I lost absolutely nothing yesterday.

Nada. Huge panic.

Today has been more like the whoosh as I lost 0.7 kg with only 0.4 kg of that weight gain remaining which I am hoping will go, plus more, in the next few days. Fingers crossed my gamble pays off.

I think one of the medication I have been on has been causing the weight loss stagnation and I am working on getting the medical support I need to help me through this tough period, without compromising too much on the huge boost I get from losing weight.

But this is a happy post…

OK, I appreciate that no matter how fat you are, you can buy big enough jeans to fit you and kudos to those women for rocking out their jeans but I’ve always had a mental block about buying huge jeans especially as I am blessed with fat thighs. I have tended to buy size 16 or 18 jeans or below. If these tree trunk thighs won’t fit, then no jeans for me.

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Last night, I decided to try two jeans which have always represented a slimmer me…

I had felt so sexy just before my wedding when I had lost a bunch of weight and finally fitted into one pair. And the other, I started wearing after losing 5 stones in 2010.

The last time I tried those two jeans on 30th March this year, they both didn’t even get above my knee.

And yesterday, there I was, both jeans fitted.

I cannot begin to express the joy I felt looking at myself in the mirror. OK not in a narcissistic way…

My life is in transition and there will always be sad thoughts because of course wearing those jeans reminded me of my wedding period. They also reminded me of holidays with my husband, where I would go away wearing one of those jeans and litter my diet journal with words like “The Joy of Jeans” to remind me of the joy I had wearing those jeans in the airplane and to encourage me not to overeat on holiday, so as to travel back with the jeans still fitting nicely.

But whatever sad thoughts may cloud happy times, yesterday, the joy of jeans won the day.

I am once again that girl that can fit into jeans I’d barely won in more years than I care to remember.

I still have a loooong way to go and I’m not resting on my laurels. One day, these two sexy jeans will be my fat jeans. Now that’s a happy thought.

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Day 159: Week 23 Weigh-in – 60 Pounds Gone Forever and Ever and Ever and Ever…

Firstly, a special get well soon to my lovely consultant Mandy. Big hugs and sending you positive and healing energy. Lots of love xx

I’ve been a little frustrated that in the last 3/4 weeks, I’ve only lost 1.3 kg (2.86 pounds) On a strict diet like the Cambridge Diet that’s annoying as I should be losing more.

But you know what, instead of looking at just how pathetic the weight loss last couple of weeks have been compared to people losing an average of a stone a month, I should look at the big picture.

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So here goes…

I started the diet on 16th February, 2015 and in 5 horrendously difficult months, I have broken the habit of a lifetime using food as a clutch when the shit hits the fan and boy has the shit hit the fan. I can’t imagine anything worse happening to me than the events of the last 5 months. And through all that, I have managed to lose a whooping 27.4 kg; 60.28 pounds; 4 stones and 4 pounds.

You know what, that’s definitely something to celebrate.

Go me.

Week Twenty three’s verdict: today’s weight 97 kg, week’s weight loss 0.6 kg (1.3 pounds); total weight loss; 27.4 kg (60.28 pounds)

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How to Accept the Apology You Never Received

I desperately needed to read this as I am still waiting for my soon to be ex husband to offer a genuine apology for his actions. Sadly, previous apologies were immediately followed by countless other incomprehensible actions, hurts and finger pointing. It is pointless to apologise and then do worse things than the crap previously apologised for.

I will work on moving on without waiting for him to acknowledge the devastation, hurt and heartbreak he has continued to cause.

Lessons From the End of a Marriage

In an ideal world, everyone that causes harm to another, either intentionally or unintentionally, would immediately offer up a genuine apology: accepting responsibility, acknowledging the pain, express empathy and remorse, immediately changing behavior and, if appropriate, making amends for the damage caused. But we know that rarely happens. And it never happens as quickly as we would like.

Instead, we receive a “sorry” tossed out with little thought and nothing to back it up. We hear, “I’ll do better” and better never comes. We may find that in place of an apology, we instead receive blame and misplaced anger as defensiveness leads instead of empathy. The apology may be discounted by the excuses that accompany it. We may see an utter lack of comprehension at the pain that was inflicted. Or we may just be listening to radio silence, waiting for an apology that never comes.

An apology that maybe we…

View original post 664 more words

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Day 158 – Loving Me Now And Always

I want to move on with my life; I really do.

I do not wish to be consumed by anger; I really don’t.

I’ve had a tough couple of weeks.

I do not see the light at the end of the tunnel.

I do not know how to start re-building my shattered life.

I do not know how I could have a full and fulfilling life with my specific limitations which I cannot explain right now.

I do not know how to find that joy of life; that joie de vivre.

Yesterday, I sobbed throughout therapy.

I asked my therapist why I am back to feeling like complete and utter shite.

Why am I am back to being utterly depressed and so angry with my spouse after my empathy phase?

Shouldn’t things be getting better instead of finding myself several times in the last week sobbing my eyes out?

She said the cycle of grief repeats itself.

The fact that I had an angry phase doesn’t mean that I was done with anger. I should give myself time. I will have bad days and good days and with time, the good days will be more than the bad days.

She will look into extending our therapy sessions.

I suspect I will be in the therapy for a very long time but there’s no shame in seeking help.

Yesterday, I showed my therapist the romantic handwritten Valentine’s day card my husband had given me 10 days before I found out about his affair.

His handwritten note talked about loving me now and always.

That Valentine’s morning, he had come home after 2 am, blaming his busy workload. I would later find taxi receipts showing he had paid £50 to come back that early morning from his mistress’ house.

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My therapist declared that no one seeing that card would guess that I had anything other than a loving marriage.

She said that would explain the shock of the breakdown of my marriage. 

Today is another bad day.

I am consumed with anger for my spouse.

I am angry with him for thinking that it is perfectly OK to be as wicked and thoughtless as he has been to me since he ended our marriage by email.

I am angry with him for shunning all financial responsibilities towards me and abdicating all responsibilities and decency.

I am angry with him for making me feel certain that the 14 years I spent loving him mean absolutely nothing to him.

I am angry with him for being so pathetically weak, he is swayed by others and cannot decide for himself what is right and wrong.

I am angry with him for thinking that as long as I am not in “penury” – the standard by which he has chosen to judge my circumstances, after 14 years, it is perfectly OK for him to keep his extremely high salary all to himself and pay £0 to me and towards the maintenance of a house he claims to own half of.

I am angry with him for whatever reasons best known to him, making this transition as difficult as possible.

I am angry with him for thinking it is OK for him to continue to enjoy the standard of living we once had but for me to have to watch every penny I spend.

I am angry with him for making me swallow the unfairness of his actions because, right now, I am not prepared to squander savings that will help me in the future fighting him incomprehensible and unreasonable actions in the courts, in the interim.

I am angry with him for making a vow to me in church, for better for worse and thinking that he can predict the future and bail now because he wants a different future for himself that he reckons will be all rosy. Karma is a bitch.

I am angry with him for being so pathetically petty, that a man who has a very senior banking job and earns a hell of a lot of money thinks that it’s perfectly OK to delete my profile from Netflix (£5.99 a month) and cancel a pre-paid subscription of Spotify paid up until mid November (otherwise £9.99 a month) at a time he’s paying me £0.

I am angry at him for not being a man of his word; for not being a man at all.

I am angry at him for spending 14 years looking for a way out of our relationship, while being an evil serpent, lying with me, lying to me, and professing his love on a daily basis.

I am angry with him for breaking the contract of our marriage and thinking it is perfectly OK to change the rules of the game, in the middle of the game.

I am angry with him for stealing my youth, stealing my best reproductive years and yet, thinking he owes me absolutely nothing.

I am extremely angry at my spouse for being the biggest disappointment of my entire life bar none.

In other news, the weight loss has stalled the last couple of weeks. I am doing my best to kickstart things. This weight loss is my biggest achievement this year. It is my anchor. I desperately need it to continue.

Please God. Please whatever is good in the universe.

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Day 149: Making Fire – Sisters Are Doin’ it For Themselves

Yesterday, I saw my husband for the first time since April 18th. I expected to feel anger, resentment, hatred even, for this man who has made my life impossibly and unnecessarily difficult, hurt me beyond comprehension and continuously betrayed me.

And yet, the first and last thoughts when I saw him was recognition that he looked tired, older and skinnier than last time I saw him. I was genuinely worried whether he was eating properly and taking care of himself.

Talk about messing with my head but you know what, that is OK. Like I wrote in my empathy blog, I am glad I haven’t lost all decency.

Today I have been panicking about the rest of my life. How will I sort out all the stuff I need to do in order to move on with my life? How will I move on? How will I manage all the countless changes in my life? What do I do about my agonising back pains? How do I sort my head out? What will my new life be like? Will I ever go on holiday again? Where could I afford to go on my own and how horrible would it be travelling on my own? Am I destined for a life of loneliness lacking in fun and excitement? What happens next? How does the making of a new single life commence?

In other news, I had a happy weekend filled with good friends visiting both Saturday and Sunday. And on Saturday, I made BBQ with my girlfriend while my gorgeous adorable god-daughter looked on. I cannot begin to describe how big a deal this was because throughout the warm weather that seem to have gone on forever since my husband left our home, every time I smelt neighbours’ BBQ wafting through the garden, it reminded me of my loss and emptiness because that was something my husband used to do.

It was a man’s job to do BBQ.

And there I was, with my girlfriend making my first ever BBQ in my entire life. A first for her too as her husband usually does theirs solo. Sisters are doing it for themselves.

I do not need a man to make fire. That’s why God invented easy to light charcoal bags.

Any smart Cambridge dieters might have spotted that the butterflied chicken and drumsticks below aren’t part of allowed food on Step 2 of the diet. Bite me.

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Day 145: Week 21 Weigh-in – How Long is Too Long?

I started the day by picking up a dead bird from the decked patio. Nice.

I’ve lived in my home for 11 and a half years and this was a first for me. Perhaps it had happened previously. Perhaps it’s just one of those things the man of the house would sort out, and not deem it necessary to share.

The bloody bird (quite literally) couldn’t have been killed in the hidden bits of the garden. It had to happen where I had no choice but to clear it up.

I’m a City girl. I’m so not the type of girl that picks up dead birds. For two seconds, I thought about calling one of my male neighbours to help. A damsel in distress and all that.

I manned up and picked up the dead bird.

My wonderful Cambridge consultant Mandy, helped to clean out the decking with water. Thanks Mandy.

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Following that crap start to the day, my craptastic day continued. Of course the branch of the bank that I needed to go to sort out some of the mess I’ve been left to deal with was closed. There I was trawling around like a headless chicken trying to find another branch, tiring myself all out. Even the shopping mall, a place that for 14 years used to be joyful, is now filled with sadness.

My torment might have been obvious as some random man asked me if I needed some help. He asked for my name and offered to pray for me.

“That’s very kind of you, thank you. Please do. I need prayers.”

The kindness of strangers never ceases to amaze me.

My wonderful sister who is a medical doctor, saw a picture I took today and commented on the bags under my eyes. Being the lovely person that she is, she started by saying that I looked beautiful. She then diplomatically asked me to check whether the side effects of any of my medications included oedema.

“No, the bags have been there since Lilly Wong. [Fake name of husband’s mistress] I’m hoping they will go when I start sleeping well.”

I have resolved that I will give myself all the time in the world to recover from the breakdown of a 14 years relationship that without any warning, went from being a happy, forever after thing, (yep, that fantasy) to being so easily discarded (by email no less) like a brief meaningless fling.

I am resigned to the fact that it might take a while for me to recover from my grief.

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But how long is too long?

Why am I writing this post on a Friday night?

Why am I sobbing my eyes as I write this?

Why was I going around today with my business, with tears running down my face?

Shouldn’t all of this be getting easier?

Shouldn’t life be getting easier?

Why is life still so bloody hard?

Why do I still feel the shock of betrayal like it was yesterday?

Why am I still wasting any second of my short life crying over someone who doesn’t give a shit about me?

In other news, I lost 0.6kg, 1.32lbs today. Not earth shattering loss but a loss is a loss is a loss.

Week Twenty One’s verdict: today’s weight 97.7 kg, week’s weight loss 0.6 kg (1.32 pounds); total weight loss; 26.7 kg (58.7 pounds)

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Day 143 – Empathy

Keeping this diary is apparently good for improving my mental health. Better out than in.

Last time I saw my ex on 18th April, following a shocking event engineered by him and his mistress, I angrily told him that he would never see me again except in a room with solicitors or mediators. It looks like that comment might come true next week. As he left our former home that night, he turned to wave at me with a look I interpreted as regretful and apologetic. I would capture that last image of him for eternity. I didn’t wave back.

Sadly, his behaviour since then have been neither regretful nor apologetic.

I don’t know how I would feel when/if, I see my ex. I don’t know whether I would be overwhelmed by the emotions of the last few months. I don’t know whether I would be overwhelmed by the hurt and anguish that he has caused me since the last time I saw him. I would hope to be professional and detached enough to handle the business at hand without being overwhelmed by my emotions but I just don’t know.

Today in therapy, we spent the whole session talking about how to deal with the possibility of seeing my ex again and I spent the whole session in tears, something that hasn’t happened since our early sessions.

Grief is a funny thing. Just when you think you’ve got it all sussed out, it hits all over again. Betrayal compounds the grief.

This week, my thoughts about my ex have been confused with empathy.

empathy

I feel sorry for him.

I want to ask him whether he is OK. Really OK.

Even though this week, he has also done things to hurt me, in my head, I seem to have reverted to thinking that he must be suffering too.

He must be suffering to continue to think that it is OK to continue to hurt me.

He must be suffering to continue to behave in an inexplicable and unreasonable manner.

He must be suffering because he has lost all decency and all ability to decipher right from wrong; just because he thinks he can get away with doing something, doesn’t make it OK.

He must be suffering because the anger and venom he still directs at me shows me that he is not a happy man and hasn’t found the “happiness” he was seeking outside his marriage.

Grass-is-Greener

He must be suffering because he appears to have abdicated all responsibilities for the breakdown of our marriage and 14 year relationship. He has somehow in his head, painted himself as the saint and the victim, otherwise, why would he continue to behave as appallingly as he has done? Why would he blatantly lie about events when both of us know the truth?

He has completely detached himself from me. I am this fictionalised stranger far removed from him to whom he can be utterly heartless. I am no longer that person that he claimed to love; no longer his world; no longer his little one; no longer the ying to his yang; no longer the love of his life; no longer the woman he wrote countless times to love now and forever; no longer his best friend; no longer his darling love; no longer the sunshine of his life.

I am nothing to him but a nuisance that needs to be mercilessly dealt with.

I feel sorry for him that even though our marriage has broken, our relationship has been so utterly smashed that a friendship that was meant to last forever, has been destroyed.

I feel sorry that I have been left with no memories of him to treasure. How can I treasure any memories when the entirety of my relationship was a lie?

How can I treasure memories when the man I loved didn’t actually exist?

This week, I am proud of myself that I have not lost all decency. I have not lost empathy. Even though this man has hurt me and broken me more than I ever thought possible, and continues to hurt me, I still have enough human decency to think about him and wonder whether he is OK.

anger is an acid

In some ways, I have reverted to thinking that I couldn’t have been so wrong for 14 years to put my ex on a pedestal. He must be doing the things he is doing because he is unwell. Professionals who know better than me have labelled his behaviour as various things including that of someone suffering a serious mental breakdown, a mid-life crisis, psychotic episode, psychopath with a personality disorder, multiple personality disorder.

They all agree that his insanity will one day clear and with that, would come the realisation of the avalanche of devastation he’s left behind. A one man tsunami.

If he is unwell, then I can’t blame myself for wasting over 14 years with someone so undeserving of me. He must be unwell. In which case, he is not *really* responsible for his behaviour.

This morning my therapist ended that analysis by simply saying, perhaps he is well. Perhaps he has changed and now, he’s simply not a nice person.

As I write this, I remind myself that my ex has categorically written that he is well and not suffering from any mental crisis. He is his own man. He accuses me of being the one who seeks to rationalise the end of our marriage and his behaviour as a mental crisis.

Perhaps he’s right.

I am just glad that I am still that decent person capable of human empathy and capable of feeling sorry even for someone who has continued to hurt me.

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Day 140 – I will have to be enough…for me.

I’m that girl that always “needed” to have a man in my life.

I am 42 years old and I have been in relationships since I was 20 years old. I went immediately from a short relationship when I was 20, to a 6 year relationship, followed immediately by another short emotionally intense and mind-blowingly passionate relationship and then 14 years with my soon to be ex-husband.

The old me would have signed up to dating websites or wherever you meet single men these days, the day in February, I found out about my husband’s emotional affair. By now, I would have been firmly established in another no doubt unsuitable relationship, with the man fully labelled as a significant other. That relationship would have been doomed even before it had even started, given my current state of mind and the pattern of repetitive behaviour, I have only now accepted, which mean that I am drawn to the wrong men, even though I had thought my ex was the complete opposite in looks, virility and values to the men I dated in the past.

I need to work on myself to avoid repeating past mistakes.

significant other

This time, I will not jump into another relationship, not now, probably, not ever.

I will never marry again nor live with any man ever again.

I will never allow another man to come into my life, share my life, get emotionally attached, become dependant on him or give him the ability to hurt and devastate my life. Nor would any man ever know everything about my life like my ex did, every single thing that mattered, and thereby acquire plenty of ammunition to hurt me, should he turn out to be yet another wrong one.

I thought I was smart and streetwise but what a naïve, trusting fool I was.

As clichéd as it might sound, this divorce is my chance to re-discover myself, re-discover who I used to be, get strong and healthy, allow myself to grieve properly for as long as it takes, heal properly, discover new interests, new things, new people, new joys and to stand by myself, without ever becoming emotionally, mentally, financially or physically dependent or connected with another man.

I have had my share of so called soul mates and loves of my life. I will be my own soul mate and the love of my own life.

self-love

I will have to be enough for myself in the future. I will embrace singlehood. I will embrace independence. I will embrace never ever giving any man power over me, ever again.

I will embrace loneliness remembering that you can live with someone and yet be the loneliest woman alive when you become insignificant because they are stuck in their own little planet, distracted by chasing greener grasses.

This weight-loss quest is the beginning of my self love. It is the beginning of finding myself and the fit, beautiful, slim, happy person that I have always meant to be.

One fine day in the future (however long that takes), when the hurt and heartbreak have sufficiently healed and I have finally, legally untangled myself from my ex, I shall celebrate the birth of my life as Ms Belle – who is just fine on her own.

It doesn’t mean that I am now a man hater or that my male friends have all suddenly grown devilish horns.

And it most certainly doesn’t mean that I will be giving up on sex. Fuck no. When the time is right, I have 14 years of bad or no sex to make up for!

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