5

Day 478 – Changing the Narratives

My last post upset a lot of people, I am very sorry about that, but that’s life, with it’s ups and downs and this blog is my space to be honest about my feelings.

I’m definitely on the UP from Sunday night.

I spent much of Monday still very teary but also actively trying to lift my mood.

I ate well, kept to my diet, had fish (whole sea bream) for supper as I believe Omega 3 is a natural anti-depressant and when I needed a snack, I made some yummy crispy kale, recipe coming up.

Even through the tears, I listened to my I Will Survive playlist on a loop. I wrote about some of the songs in that playlist in a blog on the link above.

Vitamin D and exercise are natural anti-depressants and I therefore spent some time outside in the sunshine attending to my herb garden with the fragrance emitted from 5 newly planted rosemary bushes, three types of thymes, mint, chives, another more established rosemary bush etc.

I also attended to some newly planted evergreen clematis that are already climbing through my pergola even though they were only planted in April.

I watered and fed the newly planted red bush hedges and newly planted red roses and climbing pink roses which have already magically produced a lot of flowers even though they were also only planted this April. My gardener swears a specific plant food he made me purchase have resulted in the buds. I’m inclined to believe him as I don’t understand how else roses planted in April will already produce so many flowers.

Roses June 2016

As an aside, last year, I had refused to plant anything new in the garden because of the uncertainties with settling our finances. This year, I decided that I would no longer suspend my life waiting for a protracted divorce process to conclude.

I need to tap into that defiance and that refusal to let anyone steal my joie de vivre.

I also ordered myself some flowers with a card for myself that included the words of one of my very kind readers (thanks J), who had written privately yesterday. She reminded me to just breath, take it one day at a time and that this too shall pass.

I figured flowers were definitely a better option than greasy takeaways.

Flowers June 2016

Today, I am eating well and given as it was raining, I worked out in the gym instead. I have decided to restart working out regularly, regardless of whether it slows down the weight loss, because it will help my mental health going forward. However, nothing too crazy, just gentle exercises because I’m on a low calorie diet. I will also slightly increase my food intake from 800 calories, perhaps having an extra protein bar or egg after working out.

Yesterday, the friend who had spent Friday night at mine continued to call me endlessly and she said she was about to call the police, when she hadn’t heard from me in over 36 hours. We usually talk and text countless times daily. When I finally replied to say that I was OK and was just dealing with the headfuck of the anniversary, she reminded me of my WhatsApp Status:

Change the Narratives

Flip Your story

Turn your negatives to positives

Dream, believe, achieve

And so, I am changing the narratives.

I am dragging myself out from the low moods.

I am a survivor.

I have the strength to see this nightmare divorce through to its conclusion.

I am a warrior.

I am a winner.

I won’t let the bastard or “douche lord” (thanks J) grind me down.

 

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10

Day 476: 12th Wedding Anniversary -Dark Cloud of Pain

Update: Wednesday 8th June, 2016 – I have been debating whether I should delete the post below because I most definitely do not have those thoughts and it’s only been three days.

The dark clouds have definitely shifted.

For now, the post stays as a reminder to me of what darkness looks like.

However, I promise myself and my loved ones that if I ever feel remotely like I did on Sunday, I will pick up the phone and call my mum or any of my wonderful three sisters who love me very much and who I love more than the world itself, or call any of my close friends.

If anyone stumbles upon this post on a dark day, please trust me when I say that the dark cloud will shift and there will be sunshine.

Please call a family member, a friend, the Samaritan free from any UK mobile 116 123 or send me an email with your phone number and I will call you back, wherever you might be in the world – I have Skype and WhatsApp and can call none UK numbers.

I don’t feel like the post below means that I have lost all the progress I have made as a person since my marriage ended. On the contrary, it has inspired me to be that person that carries on, stays positive, who is a survivor and not a victim, and who keeps looking forward.

I might have taken 50 steps backwards on Sunday, but right now, from where I was that day, I have taken 60 steps forward. I have made progress.

Rainbow_1574

Double rainbow forming on the western outskirts of Innerleithen, Scottish Borders

 

WARNING: This post is dark and talks of suicidal thoughts. It may cause upset.

Today is 12 year since the day I married my husband – I call him my husband because we are not yet divorced.

Today is also exactly a year to the day since my husband sent me the anniversary present of getting the lawyer in the same divorce law firm as the sister of the married woman he had an affair with, to write me asking for divorce.

Two years ago, we were celebrating our 10th wedding anniversary, having returned to the same wonderful hotel in Mauritius where we spent our honeymoon.

Today, my husband changed his Facebook profile picture to a picture of himself smiling by the sea.

Today, something else happened to remind me of my so called empty life; 40s, discarded, unwanted, undesirable, used goods. I do not want to talk about this other event.

Today has been a fucking miserable day.

This evening, I had a pizza, two cans of diet coke, chicken wings, garlic pizza bread and half a tub of ice cream. I didn’t have breakfast or lunch. I had pizza and it was good.

I feel so fucking depressed it is unreal.

I am currently sitting on my sofa sobbing my eyes out.

Earlier, as I sat here looking at my wedding photos, I know I shouldn’t do so but what the hell, when you’re down, out and on a pity party, you might as well keep going and depress the fuck out of yourself.

My wedding 12 years ago was a totally awesome wedding. It was so full of fun, joy, music, dances, different, my husband and I smiled like we were the king of the world. We were drunk with happiness, happy as anything I’ve ever been, laughing and smiling broadly all day.

For several years, friends would say how much fun our wedding was.

To be clear, I have accepted the end of my marriage, that much I am certain of.

Earlier today, as I sat at this sofa, I thought about going upstairs, taking a handful of the anti depressants, anti psychotic pills, strong sleeping pills, strong painkillers codeine etc. by my bedside.

I imagined going upstairs to my bedroom, setting out my will, writing letters to my family and just how peaceful it would be to swallow as many of those pills as I can, keep swallowing them and falling into a very deep sleep from which there would be no waking up.

No more emotional or physical pain. Just peace and quiet.

I imagined the peace of never having to experience the back pain that sometimes completely cripples me – I am wearing a TENS machine set to the highest level as I write this; that highest level is insufficient for my pain. TENS machine is given to women experiencing the pain of child birth. I live with that level of pain on a daily basis.

I imagined the peace of never ever having to deal with the prospect of going to court next month and having to face seeing my evil, psychopathic ex who continues his life completely oblivious to just how evil, unfeeling and inhuman he has been.

I imagined the peace of never having to deal with lawyers in the mess my husband has made of trying to end his marriage, one year later, this evil, wicked, heartless man still has all of this hanging over me like an unending nightmare that just won’t go away.

I imagined the peace of never having to think of the pain and betrayal my husband continues to cause me.

I imagined the peace of never having to deal with the fact that my life as I know it is empty and bleak.

I imagined the peace of never having to deal with the fact that I am destined to spend the rest of my life alone. Please do not write to tell me that one day, I will meet a man who will love me for me. I am realistic about the prospects of that ever happening; it won’t, that’s just my reality. Having spent 14.5 years with a man that would look at me with eyes full of love, I will never ever submit to any such fallacy called love that will end in monstrous pain.

As the urge to take those pills magnified, I thought of my mother.

On Friday, one of my closest friends had spent the night with her two children. On Saturday as we had some heart to heart, I told her about my mother and how much loss that woman had endured in her life. I told her how my neurosis probably started because when my mother was pregnant with me, she had been so convinced she would die in pregnancy or giving birth, that she had written letters, prepared her affairs and asked her best friend to marry my father when she dies and to look after my two elder sister.

My mother’s premonition were not completely unfounded. Her mother had died the year before I was born. Her closest sibling, her handsome brother had died, in his twenties, the year I was born. Her father had died the year after I was born and my beloved father would die in a plane crash, 10 years after I was born.

Four years ago, my mother was crushed by the death of my 24 year old sister-in-law who died giving birth to my brother’s son. The little boy died too. She left my 6 years old nephew who my mum now looks after. Last year, my mother lost her closest remaining sibling, an elder sister who she adored.

As I contemplated, ended it all, I thought of my mother. She had tried to call me this morning telling me that she knew what day it was and hoped that I was alright.

She called me again as I sat pondering whether to end it all, I initially ignored the call but when I saw her face with her WhatsApp photo, I finally tried to answer but the connection was poor and I didn’t call her back. My mother lives abroad.

I started Googling and reading pages about how parents and siblings deal with the suicide of a loved one. Given everything my poor mother has endured in one lifetime, do I really want to deal her with yet another cruel hand? Would she survive my death? Do I want to be ultimately responsible to my mother’s demise?

I read about how suicide tears a family apart like a hand grenade dropped in the middle of a room. The closest to the grenade suffer forever. Do I want to drop a bomb to the family that I love so much?

I think of the close friend who had spent Friday night with her two children one of whom is my God daughter. She had lost a friend in January who had died sitting on his bed, with his laptop open, on a Saturday afternoon. He was only 39 years old and with his whole bright life ahead of him. The conclusion was sudden adult death syndrome. His death had devastated my friend and she still hasn’t recovered from it. She would have to deal with yet another friend dying unexpectedly and explain to her little ones that the “auntie” they had only hugged and kissed just yesterday had died.

This friend calls me twice, sends several messages, I ignore her calls and messages. I will call her tomorrow.

I thought of my siblings explaining to my nephews and nieces that I had died. I wondered if they would tell them that I also killed myself.

I read this poem on a random blog talking about mothers and their children’s suicide. I sob like a baby as I read this because this could be my mother.

My Mom is a survivor,
Or so I’ve heard it said.
But I can hear her crying at night
When all others are in bed.
I watch her lay awake at night
and go to hold her hand.
She doesn’t know I’m with her
to help her understand.
But like the sands on the beach
That never washes away…
I watch over my surviving mom,
Who thinks of me each day.
She wears a smile for others…
A smile of disguise!
But through Heaven’s door I see
Tears flowing from her eyes.
My mom tries to cope with death
To keep my memory alive.
But anyone who knows her knows
It is her way to survive.
As I watch over my surviving mom
Through Heaven’s open door…
I try to tell her those angels
Protect me forever more.
I know that doesn’t help her…
Or ease the burden she bears.
So if you get a chance, go visit her…
And show her that you care.
For no matter what she says…
No matter what she feels.
My surviving mom has a broken heart
That time won’t ever heal.

Sunday 5th June, 2016 will pass and I will still be here.

Before you write and tell me to seek medical help, I know. I do not usually have suicidal thoughts, it was a tough day, in a tough period.

Realistically, I am not overly confident seeking help will do anything other than give me more pills when I have more than enough.

Tomorrow is another day. I do not know whether the dark cloud would have passed. I can only take it one day at a time.

Tomorrow, I will try and eat well, stay on my diet, exercise a little in the fresh air, if it will help, and take it one day at a time.

I have a busy few weeks coming up with divorce crap and court in July.

I completely accept the end of my marriage. However, the evil, wickedness and despicable acts of this serpent I married, the pain and damages that he has caused me, I will never comprehend, nor is his behaviour comprehensible to any half decent human being.

Please don’t write to tell me to move on. It is impossible to move on when there has been no movement whatsoever in resolving our affairs and ending our marriage, in the year since my husband decided he wanted a divorce because my husband has refused to settle or make a counter offer to the offer of settlement I made him in September 2015, a few weeks after he ended mediation to settle our financial affairs because he would not accept the mediators telling him he was legally and morally wrong.

A year on, I still do not even know whether I will lose my beloved home where I have lived for over 12 years.

A year on, there is still no privacy because the court requires this man to see all my bank and credit card statements and vice versa.

A year on, there is no moving on from this nightmare.

One day at a time is all I can pledge.

7

Day 337 – Sadness Overwhelms Me :-(

I am overwhelmed by profound sadness that in two days’ time, I will find myself in court facing my ex, his gutter solicitor and expensive barrister – exactly 15 years to the day we first met; Saturday, 20th January, 2001.

I am overwhelmed by sadness that 15 years later, this is where we are.

I am overwhelmed by sadness that my ex has spent over £11,000, so far, on legal fees on our divorce but has never for one day stated exactly how he thinks our assets ought to be divided. Nothing. Nada.

I am overwhelmed by sadness that my ex’s behaviour has forced me to spend over £10,000 on legal fees.

Jesus Christ. Over £21,000 wasted on fuck all, is a lot of money by anyone’s standards. If this case goes to a final trial like I expect it would, we would have spent 3 or 4 or 5 times that amount.

For what exactly? Absolutely no progress whatsoever.

I am overwhelmed by sadness that after 15 years, my ex would rather spend silly money on lawyers, force me to do the same, rather than settle our disputes like civilised and intelligent people ought to do.

This man that I loved unconditionally for 14.5 years thinks that this sorry state of affairs is the best way forward. Why?

But things are what they are and I just have to get on with it hopeful that this nightmare will one day end.

My diet has fallen by the wayside in the last few days. If I’m totally honest, I’m not too bothered about it and will not kick myself for doing whatever I need to do to get over the stress and sadness that seek to drown me.

I have never smoked or been much of a drinker; my limit has always been one or two glasses of red wine. Last night, in my sadness and angst, I wished I was a smoker, puffing away on endless sticks of cigarettes and drinking shots after shots of whiskey. Instead, I had diet coke, crisps and toasts. Perhaps not quite the tragic romance of puffing away on cigarettes and drinking whiskey but equally as destructive.

Please don’t write to tell me to stay on my diet, don’t let the bastard derail me, blah blah blah.

I know and I will sort it soon enough.

I won’t stress about the diet. I have other much more important things to stress about.

I absolutely cannot wait to see the end of this week.

I will not stop my diet until I reach goal weight, so will sort it out when my head is able to.

Just please, let me get over this nightmare week.

2

Day 296: Why am I doing this again?

This diary started as a record of yet another weight loss journey.

It has now become much more than just that.

It has become my journey of surviving my annus horribilis with my mental and physical health as in tact as I can muster.

Some days are a struggle but I am certain that one day, the dark entries on this diary will seem like a long forgotten era.

is it over yet

Days like today though, I thoroughly resent the fact that instead of focussing my energy on the million and one things that I ought to be doing to move on with my life, figuring out how to make various impossible changes, my energy, time, money are being wasted because the person who chose to end our marriage has chosen to make the process as impossible as he can muster.

Moving on is impossible when your day and mind is still occupied with unpleasant crap.

dont-confuse-your-path

I have struggled this week to stay on my diet for various reasons.

I am bored with the diet, I want to have more choices but with all the crap going on right now, I can’t really blame the diet. Food may not be leisure but it gives me pleasure. The imp on my shoulder tells me that I’m having a crap few weeks, if eating crap makes me feel a little better, so be it. I know better than that because ultimately, weight gain doesn’t help. I am restless, I am depressed (strong word, I know), I am emotional, I am on my period.

When you have spent all your life crutching on bad food choices when down, it is a cycle that is not easy to break. I will not make excuses for myself.

I take full responsibility for my actions but if breaking the vicious cycle of obesity was an easy feat, there would be no fat person.

the-buck-stops-here1

I needed a reminder of why I am on this weight loss journey.

Fighting talk but I will not stop until I get to an end goal however, the stops and starts make that target seem further and further away.

I can only take it one day at a time; or even one meal at a time.

On 5th January, I wrote a list of reasons why I wanted to lose weight. I revisited those reasons in a  post back in March 2015. Time to revisit those reasons; hopefully they might inspire me to stay on track.

1. Nearly as fat as prior to previous weight loss. [Not anymore. I have lost 5 1/2 stones. Another 3 stones will be truly life changing.]
2. Feel huge, expanded, wide, my clothes can barely fit me. [Not anymore. I now rock jeans. My clothes are loose but imagine how good I will feel if I lose a couple more stones?]
3. Too fat to walk, function, get in and out of bed, in and out of bath. [Those days are well and truly gone!]
4. My beautiful house deserves a beautiful resident. [Give myself a break. I am beautiful fat or slim]
5. My insides must be awful to correspond with the outside. [Easy woman. Note no 4. How about that break?]
6. Spots on face and sore starting on side. [Sore gone. Only occasional stress spots. Tough year!]
7. New chair will feel silly and forced with fat resident. [I now rock that fancy chair.]
8. Slim down, get fit. [Hear hear. Let’s keep doing it. Rome wasn’t built in a day.]
9. Forget sex, can barely move legs. [Most definitely no longer true!]
10. Tray in aircraft, so embarrassing. [That fat moment when your food tray hangs mid air because you are too fat – I’m not that girl any more.]
11. I’m acting like I’ve given up on babies. [Let’s not talk about babies!]
12. I felt hot slimmer. This is ridiculous. [Yep, bring on the H.O.T. me.]
13. Hand -> mouth -> fat [That’s right. Nothing passes this mouth without my say so. You tell yourself that!]

14. Dicing with diabetes. [I have PCOS, diabetes is the next step. Not happening to this chick. No way!]
15. Restricted life. Imagine all I can do on holiday if slim. [Well…so let’s keep going then.]
16. Stupid to be this fat. [Extremely stupid to be fat when I can do something about it. I’m doing it.]
17. Struggled to walk in plane. What’s the alternative, wee in pants as too fat and lacking in confidence to walk in plane? [That fat feeling when you walk in turbulence or worry about fitting into plane’s toilet.]
18. Babies, babies, babies, babies. [Get the memo. Enough of the baby talk!]
19. Get fit, feel better. [I hear you. Let’s keep doing what we’re doing.]
20. Strain on chair max exceeded as of today. [Not anymore. I’m good with that and most chairs]
21. Strain on brand new baths. They will crack. No contest. They really will. [They won’t, not anymore.]
22. Make myself proud again. [Done! I am proud of myself. Note to self: Keep making yourself proud.]
23. Start something, finish it FFS. [I start, I finish. No messing. Fighting talk!]
24. Promise St Thomas doctor. [I told a doctor I would be 40 and slim or 40 and fat from pregnancy. I failed. So what? I can be 43 and nearly slim if I keep to the diet. What’s a few years between friends?]
25. In my 40s, downhill all the way, ill-health in old age. I have time to sort it out now or misery ahead. [Am I trying to depress myself to fuck?! Enough already with the old age!]
26. DH doesn’t deserve a fat wife. [DH who? Please. That ship sunk deeper than the Titanic. I am doing this for me!]

beige room

Chip Away The Fat – One Pound at a Time. Yes I CAN.

2

Day 293: Week 42 Weigh-in – We need to talk about Christmas

This has been an extremely hard week.

Divorce sucks like nothing has ever sucked but I know this is only a phase which will pass.

The last couple of weeks have been spent completing the nightmare Form E and gathering countless documents in readiness for court imposed deadline.

Every bone in my body is shattered. My back aches. My legs ache. My hips ache. My emotions are totally drained.

On Wednesday, I had therapy. I was in good form, full of positive talk for the future. We made diary plans to ensure I have some psychological support from her to see me through the first financial court hearing in January. I have a wonderful therapist who I have been seeing since June. She has been exceptional in getting our sessions extended several times and now trying to make sure I continue to have ongoing psychological support through the stresses of court hearings next year.

Only 10% of divorce cases go through a third and final court trial where a judge imposes a final judgment. My ex is crazy, totally unreasonable and a zombie being controlled by repugnant idiots. I am resigned I will be one of the unlucky 10%.

Our divorce will probably make his mistress’ sister a partner in her divorce law firm for the generous business from my ex. A fool and his money…

Yesterday, I had a follow-up with a consultant psychiatrist. The mental torture of the end of my marriage and my ex’s repulsive behaviour (if you’re new to my blog, see my About Me section), had resulted in a breakdown. I am not ashamed to seek help or to admit that I have been on medication since then.

The consultant was extremely nice and sympathetic. She talked about the unfairness of my situation. She will update my GP accordingly. The nicer she was to me, the more I cried and cried and cried and cried.

I thought I was done crying.

In addition to the pills I was given earlier in the year, she tells me my mood is still low, that I’m depressed. She wants me on more medication than I’m already taking. She prescribes some anti-depressants that will increase the happy hormones serotonin, supress adrenalin, help me sleep better…

Mental health issues are difficult to discuss.

I think there is something about anti-depressants that gets to people. My mother had a major panic when I told her about the doctor’s visit. She immediately writes:

“Please don’t ever give in to depression. Anger, yes. Occasional sadness, yes. But depression. Please reject it in the name of all that is good.”

I admonished myself for worrying her, as if she hasn’t got enough worries.

One of my best friends responds:

“No, we just need to get you out having fun. You don’t need to take any of that shit.”

She invites me to another girlie night I had already declined and she is now planning for the girls to descend to mine in January.

If the mountain won’t come to Muhammed…

I ask my sweet sister, who  has been a rock about the specific medication. She’s a medical doctor. She calmly says:

“It’s okay. You could try it as people react in different ways. Everything will be alright my sister.”

I think if I’m honest with myself, the doctor is right about the anti-depressants and I hope they will help. I am more concerned that one of the side effects include weight gain but she had reassured me that it only increases appetite and if I don’t eat more, I won’t gain weight.

So in all of that drama, there is Christmas to think about. I still haven’t bought a single present.

In my pre-divorce life, Christmas was my absolute favourite holiday. This year, it fills me with dread.

I don’t want to think about 15 Christmases where my ex would overwhelm me with Christmas gifts like the picture below from last year.

He was certainly very generous when we were together. It’s a shame now he thinks it is entirely fine to pay me £0, while he keeps his City banker income all to himself.

2014-12-25 10.10.20

I don’t want to remember that last Christmas, I somehow managed to get 11 people to sit down in my home for Christmas lunch.

There were 6 people in my house last Christmas, who have been me for 15 Christmases and who I will most likely never see again in my entire life, except of course the ex, who I will be seeing in court hearings next year.

It is a very sad way to end a marriage.

2014-12-25 10.15.38

No, I don’t want to think about last Christmas.

But I really should think about this Christmas because this year, there will be three innocent kids in my home who haven’t done anything wrong.

There will be three young kids who will come with excitement to see their “fun auntie” and by God, I will do whatever it takes to make sure that she is still out there.

I owe it to them to make this the best Christmas I can muster.

It is not their fault that the shit hit the fan and it is unfair for them to think that life doesn’t move on and stay fun.

I promise myself that I will do whatever it takes, put on my big girls’ pants, suck it up like a fucking pro, fake it until I make it, to put on a happy show.

There will certainly be 99 times less presents this Christmas compared to Christmases past, (especially for me) but I make a silent promise to those kids there will be joy, laughter and lots of fun in my home this Christmas.

You know what, it’s not just about the kids; I owe it to myself and moving on to make it a brilliant Christmas.

a little girl

Week Forty Two’s Verdict: today’s weight 88.8 kg, week’s weight loss 0.8 kg (1.17 pounds); total weight loss; 35.6 kg; 78.3 pounds; 5 stones 8.5 pounds

8

Day 247 – The Cycle of Grief Overwhelms Me

Last Friday, I wrote a very positive post about moving on.

Following that post, I decided to update the About Me section of this blog from the start of this weight loss journey where I wrote about wanting to lose weight for a 9th IVF cycle with “my wonderful husband” and the “love of my life”.

What total bollocks.

How is that love of my life crap working out for me?

Writing that update that doesn’t even list 1% of the incomprehensible cruelty I have faced from this man since he ended our marriage by email and engaged his mistress’ sister’s lawfirm for our divorce, triggered something and since then, I am back to feeling extremely angry with this scumbag.

Shit happens.

Marriages end. That’s fine.

If my husband had ended our marriage but had attempted to do the fair and decent thing by me instead of the incomprehensible and continuing cruelty and unreasonableness from him, I won’t be crying and writing this post.

I am so very angry at this man.

Angry that this scumbag sleeps easy and is happy to leave me with absolutely nothing after loving him, supporting him and helping to build him for over 14 years.

Angry that this spineless, psychopathic, serpent has lost all decency and is completely deluded from what is right or wrong.

Angry that this scumbag could not do the decent thing by someone that stood by him for over 14 years and instead, has chosen to invite these despicable, morally repugnant people he has known for two minutes into our lives; his mistress, her divorce lawyer sister and her law firm, who with his riches, he has on tap 24/7, to dictate what he should or should not be doing with the end of his marriage.

Angry that this scumbag has given this evil woman, not only my home address and the mobile phone number I have had since 1994, and that I had received a call on her behalf spurting her nonsensical crap.

Thanks Mylien for finally confirming your identity with that call.

Angry that he sleeps easily at night happy with his decision to pay £0 to me and towards a house he owns half of, and is demanding that I immediately sell, even though this has been my home for over 11.5 years, I have sunk my life savings into my home and have paid much more than he has.

Angry that this evil man demands evidence of facts he witnessed daily for over 14 years.

Angry that life moves on so easily for him, while I face unfathomable daily difficulties that completely overwhelm me.

Before I get any emails or messages telling me that I should get over the end of my marriage, forget my ex and move on, believe me, no one knows that more than I do.

I am doing my best because I know that anger eats you up.

It is also totally pointless being angry with a stone cold, emotionally dead, heartless scumbag who is busy enjoying his life and his riches and sleeping soundly at night while I stay awake fuming.

I do not want to stay angry with my scumbag ex.

I do not want to lose even a second of thoughts to this evil man or think about him for even a second.

I do not want to lie awake at night worrying about my life and fuming at his cruelty.

I do not want to think of the unfairness of this cruel situation that I have found myself in.

I do not want to cry myself to sleep.

I do not want to have anything negative in my life.

This is what it is and I am working on myself to keep positive and move on with my life as best as I can even though it is impossible to move on when I will not disentangle myself from this scumbag for another year.

Some days like today, the cycle of grief overwhelms me and it all seems so very impossible.

I have to have hope that there will be rainbow after the rainfall.

I have to have hope that there will be laughter and sunshine.

4

Day 229: Week 33 Weigh-In – I Have Not Conquered My Demons

This blog is warts and all, so here goes some warts.

In some of my posts, I have boasted about no longer being that girl who descend on crap food when the shit hits the fan.

I am very sorry to announce that I still haven’t conquered those demons.

OK, I have to give myself some credit for having lost as much weight as I have throughout the sudden and devastating end of my marriage but the psychology of obesity is a lot more complicated than that.

This week has been tough emotionally.

I have been down and there is that feeling of worthlessness.

I won’t pretend that I feel worthless all the time, I see myself as a survivor and I keep fighting.

But the truth is that when you have been basically tossed aside like complete and utter garbage, with no second thoughts, no care at all in the world, by someone who pledged in a church in front of all your friends and family to always love and honour you, the psychological damage does not go away that easily.

If this person during over 14 devoted years, would constantly tell me that he would love me forever, I was his world, he would save my life before his, if this person could treat me as utterly shite as he has and never look back, what chances have I got of anyone else ever thinking that I am worth a second glance?

Am I destined to live alone for the rest of my life with no one ever thinking I am worth taking a punt on?

I’m not pretending that these thoughts play in my mind all the time, they don’t; I love and value myself more than that.

But that’s where I am right now.

This morning, I meant to start the day being 100% on my diet. Instead, I had a late breakfast/brunch of utter crap: a packet of nuts, a packet of crisps and two cans of diet coke, whilst moping around with tears running from my eyes and feeling sorry for myself. I enjoyed the nuts but if I’m honest, I didn’t enjoy the crisps, but I still ate them, and I still finished the packet, all 150g of it.

The day is still very much ahead of me. I may still stuff my face with more crap. I do not know. I cannot promise that I won’t. I may even spend the rest of the day feeling sorry for myself. I do not know. I may continue to tear up as I am doing writing this post, I do not know. I may have a healthy dinner or I may not. I do not know.

One thing that I am certain of though, is that come tomorrow morning, I will be firmly back on that horse.

Come tomorrow, I will be firmly back to my diet and I will back on it 100%.

I will also humbly accept that I am only a work in progress.

I will humbly accept that I have not conquered the demons of depression.

I have not conquered the self destructive habit that means that when I am depressed, I crave foods that will only encourage the cycle of depression; food that destroy and do not help me thrive.

I will humbly accept that I have not conquered the vicious cycle of obesity.

I will not regret today’s fall off the wagon. I will consign it to what it is; a blip. Nothing more, nothing less. I shall not give it more attention than it deserves nor shall I spend the rest of the week regretting it.

I may try and learn from it.

Write in my diary how the crap food did not improve my depressed mood; but that’s nothing new. I knew that it wouldn’t and yet I did it.

But you know what, what’s done is done and now I need to move on.

The same attitude that I have tried to ascribe to the devastation of the end of my marriage. What’s done is done and now I need to move on.

Week Thirty Three’s Verdict: today’s weight 90.1 kg, week’s weight loss 1 kg (2.2 pounds); total weight loss; 34.3 kg; 75.5 pounds; 5 stones 5 pounds