3

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.

20150710_100506

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.

grief is not

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)

58

9

Day 138: Week 20 Weigh-in – Kayaking Anyone?

I have had a very tough week.

I have had days this week when the grief of the loss of what I thought was a loving, decent husband and a best friend had become so unbearable that I found myself crying inconsolably.

It is OK to feel sad and to grieve as I deem fit.

The loss and heartbreak are compounded by the continued inexplicable behaviour of my ex. He wants a divorce and I can’t wait to be divorced from him. The easiest, quickest, cheapest, least emotionally draining way of doing so and both of us moving on with our lives, is for both of us to sit down or speak, and as much as possible, sort out how to divide our assets and finances, using lawyers and mediators to finalise things. My ex for some reasons best known to him, refuses to talk or meet with me, and insists on making my life as unbearable as possible.

He left. So why the anger and venom towards me?

That is a rhetorical question. I have given up trying to figure out why he does what he does or what the hell goes on in his head.

Yesterday, in my immense sadness, I managed to depress myself to fuck by succumbing to the totally pointless exercise of reading old texts and messages between my soon to be ex-husband and I. They revealed that like most marriages, there were ups and downs but the loving messages far outweighed the crappy ones. Even after I had discovered his affair, he was still writing that he loved me. I shall not torture myself with anything that pointless ever again.

I am physically and emotionally drained but…if you think this post is all doom and gloom, think again.

Today, my wonderful friend and Cambridge consultant Mandy was pumping her fist in the air like a tennis player who’s just won a crucial point. I was dancing like Carlton from the Fresh Prince of Bel Air. Yep, showing my age there.

I am utterly thrilled to report that I have today lost Four Stones and 1 1/2 pounds. In other language; 26.1 kg; 57.4 pounds.

This diet has probably saved my life because fuck knows that if since February, I had resorted to my pre-Cambridge way of grieving; eating chocolates in bed while crying and listening to sad love songs, followed by stuffing myself full of carbs and takeaways, by now, I would have been so fat that I would have needed someone washing me and a crane to get me in and out of my home.

I am a true believer that everything happens for a reason, even though being human, I cannot pretend to understand some of the stuff that have happened to me this year. But there must be a reason that after years of thinking about the Cambridge diet, this year of all years, I finally started this diet and have stuck to it through all the horrendous crap.

I thank all of you reading this, those that continue to get in touch and to follow my quest to lose weight. Thank you.

Week Twenty’s verdict: today’s weight 98.3 kg, week’s weight loss 1.1 kg (2.4 pounds); total weight loss; 26.1 kg ( 57.4 pounds)

57

4

Day 131 Week 19 Weigh in – Some Good News in Crazy Town

My husband and I are now in the process of divorcing.

Life continues to be impossibly unbearable.

Yesterday, sitting at the back of a taxi, coming back from dealing with more crap that seem to consume my life, Rod Stewart’s “I don’t Want to Talk About it” came on the radio. In my previous life, it was a great song to sing along to, with dramatic flair. Yesterday, when the song got to the part that says, “I don’t want to, talk about it, how you broke my heart”, my heart broke into a million more pieces and I found myself sobbing like a baby. The poor taxi driver didn’t know where to look. He didn’t crash the car either. That’s a good thing.

On February 24th, eight days after I started the Cambridge diet, I discovered my husband of 11 years had been having an affair and chatting online on dating websites with countless women, for several years.

I couldn’t control the madness that followed; 10 weeks of him blowing hot or cold, pretending to be working on our marriage while secretly continuing the affair, including secretly finding a flat, 40 miles away from our former home to be near this woman, and finally ending our marriage and 14 year relationship by email from a business trip to Singapore.

My life is a fucking cliché.

One of the numerous books recommended to help me with the snail slow recovery process from my deep devastation, grief and trauma quoted below by Joseph Campbell:

It is by going down the abyss
That we recover the treasures of life
Where you stumble
There lies your treasure.

It-is-by-going-down-into-the-abyss-that-we-recover-the-treasures-of-life

I can’t control my impossible life dealing with the divorce from hell, and the incomprehensible and appallingly heartless behaviour that have continued from this complete stranger; this evil serpent that shared my life for 14 years.

What I can control, are my hand to mouth actions.

from-hand-to-mouth-pavlobaron-1-728

I am so proud of myself that in spite of a myriad of health, personal and numerous other problems, my annus horribilis, I have stayed firmly on my diet. I have conquered (and continue to conquer) the life-long habit of using food as an emotional clutch and gaining crazy silly weight whenever I was sad or happy for that matter.

I am back to Step 2 of the Cambridge diet, eating 810 calories after stalling for 10 days on Step 3. Step 2 suits me better because I am so stressed and anxious about life, I have zero appetite and have lost all enjoyment of food. But I am forcing myself to eat and drinking at least 3,600 ml water daily.

I am thrilled to report that in 130 full days, I have lost exactly 25 kg, 55 pounds, 3 stones 13 pounds.

I am 1.3 pounds from losing 4 stones.

OMG.

Week Nineteen’s verdict: today’s weight 99.4 kg, week’s weight loss 2 kg (4.4 pounds); total weight loss; 25 kg ( 55 pounds)

7

Day 117 Weigh-in – Sorry for the Long Silence…

I haven’t died…yet.

I haven’t fallen off the diet wagon…not going to happen.

I am still on Step 3, eating 1000 calories a day, plus drinking at 3.6 litres of water.

I am still 100% on the diet…hell yes.

If it takes me a long while to update this diary again, please don’t give up on me. Instead, please send some positive energy my way. If you’re spiritual, please say a little prayer for me.

I have been quiet because real life (pre-divorce crap) has made me very ill. It has completely overwhelmed me and I am not doing well at all.

I am trying my best not to completely drown in a sea of totally incomprehensible and inexplicable hatred, stone-heartedness, bitterness, aggression, arrogance and wickedness coming from the other side. I’m constantly dodging bullets in what can only be described as psychological warfare.

Screw bullets, I’m constantly dodging persistent nuclear attacks.

nuclear attack

There is only so much the human head, heart and body can cope with and I reached my limits long ago but the incomprehensible attacks keep coming.

I dare anyone, no matter how strong they think that they are, to walk in my shoes, deal with the level of continuing vicious crap, betrayals and heartbreaks that I continue to contend with and to survive the last four months without physical and psychological damage.

My days are filled with crap, crap and more crap.

It’s not all doom and gloom. I have the help of a wonderful family and a few good friends. I have a good lawyer. I have medical help in the form of medication and CBT therapy but it will take some time to figure out the right combination of things that will help.

I have now lost count of the last time I had a good night sleep. Things on the sleep front are extremely bad indeed.

I thank all you kind souls who have written to ask how I am. I also thank those of you who keep visiting this blog to check for news even though there’s been nothing for a couple of weeks.

thank you

The kindness of strangers will continue to restore my shattered fate in humanity and decency.

stranger

It doesn’t matter that my life has gone to utter shite.

It doesn’t matter that my watch has been stuck on crazy o’clock since Tuesday 24th February, 2015.

All that matters is that I am still chipping away the fat.

I am still sticking to my diet against unbelievable odds. I am still losing weight and therefore, it’s all good in the hood.

In 16 weeks and four days on the Cambridge Weight Plan, the marriage breakdown from hell, psychological warfare, nuclear attacks, nightmare separation/divorce, depression, severe insomnia, severe stress, anxiety, recurring whiplash, excruciating back pain, days so dark I mope and cry, the shattering of my life and trust, hospitals, clinics, pills, lawyers, insurmountable challenges to deal with changes in every aspect of my life as I knew it, challenges to the way I have to survive and live my life….

In the middle of all that crap, I am still chipping away the fat.

I have now lost…

Wait for it…

Are you ready…

You sure?

Awight then.

In 116 full days on the Cambridge diet, I’ve lost just over…

51 pounds; 23.3 kg; 3 stones and 9 pounds!

Week Seventeen’s verdict: today’s weight 101.1kg, week’s weight loss 2 kg (4.4 pounds); total weight loss; 23.3 kg ( 51.3 pounds)

51

OMFG.

I’m beginning to look hot again…well if I can just photoshop the massive bags under my eyes from lack of sleep, the permanent stress brows, the dejected look of heartbreak, depression and stress…

Fuck all that…I look HOT.

Next mini target is to get under 100 kg. I’ll scream the day I see 99.9 kg on that scale. The mini target after that is to hit the four stones loss.

I am 5 pounds away from losing four stones.

OMG

Go me.

GIVE-YOURSELF-A-HUG

5

100% on the Cambridge Diet for 100 Days – Shame the Rest of my Life Have Imploded…

The heading is a giveaway. Today is Day 100. This diet has probably saved my life.

Things have gone drastically wrong in my life and with my mental health. The continued betrayals, insensitivities, constant provocations and lack of sleep reached a tipping point over the long weekend and flipped a switch. It’s all been downright scary but I have been under extraordinary stress since 24th February. There is only so much the human body can take and I’ve reached the end of my endurance.

I spent most of the long weekend crying my eyes out. I’m emotionally and physically exhausted.

I expect that there will be life after divorce but I will need to be alive and with my physical and mental health intact to have any sort of quality of life, so I need to concentrate on sorting myself out.

Lots of thing have happened in the last few days. The constant stream of unending betrayals and insensitivities have become completely unbearable and much more than I can cope with.

I’ve accepted that I needed help to cope with it all. That admission is hopefully the first step.

I’ve been told by someone who knows best that continuing to record my days on this blog will help me with the healing process. I don’t know how it will help but I will do whatever it takes to get my health back on track.

In the meantime, I’ve been put on some medication to help things along.

I don’t believe in filling my body with chemicals but I must do whatever helps me cope better with this impossible time. Here is hoping that these happy little pills and sleeping pills will do the trick from tonight…If they don’t work, they’ll be reviewed on Thursday.

Joy o Joy.

20150526_191208

8

Day 95 – No Knight in Shining Armour

I am still keeping to my diet 100%.

Even though I don’t feel like eating, I force myself to eat regularly and to drink 4 litres of water daily. Tomorrow is official weigh-in day. Fingers crossed that I will have some good news to share…

I’ve had a couple of readers email to say that they can no longer access my blog. Apparently, Sky switched off porn access from their broadband unless you opt out. Bloody nanny state. Oh they haven’t decided that my blog has pornographic content, they have decided to restrict access for “suicidal and self harm contents”. Say what??? O2 in their wisdom have decided to classify my blog as over 18, requesting credit card as proof of age.

Sadly, the solutions are to change your broadband setting, include the blog as an allowed site or on 02, show the proof of age.

annoying fucker

If you’ve managed to fight the nannies to read any of this, well done, power to the people, and thank you for your support. And thank you to every single one of you who visit this blog.

thank you

One day, this blog will go back to obsessing about food, weight loss, fashion, music, travel, food, restaurants and all the things I love.

One day, far far far far far away in the future, I may even make some of you blush when I describe crushing on some cute guy or having mind-blowing sex. Sky can then block me for pornographic content. Fuckers.

I’m sorry but today is not that day…

This morning, I woke up and I sat there in the dark and had a very long cry. My crying was interrupted by a phone call by my sister; I can’t explain how amazing my mum and sisters have been to me.

The lack of sleep isn’t helping; sleeping pills aren’t helping but hopefully, a change in medication today will do the trick. I also have a psychiatry appointment in early June and I’m hoping I can hang on until then. The clinic will see me if I need to see someone earlier which gives me hope help is nearby.

I suspect that I will be getting therapy for years to come to recover from the trauma of the last couple of months.

I wasn’t crying because I am some sort of victim, woe me, poor me, isn’t my life utterly shite. I guess the stark reality of my situation hits me daily.

There is only so much that I can share on this blog. I am a strong person but this has totally floored me. Every day, I find out new things that hurt me.

This morning, I felt extremely vulnerable because I have basically allowed a serpent who I should never have trusted with anything, let alone, with every aspect of my life to share my bed.

This man knows every intimate detail of my life. He knows all my secrets. As an accountant and a banker, he knows all my income and expenditure, even more than I do. This morning, I couldn’t even find my cheque books as I don’t know where he’s kept them.

He knows where the bodies are buried. I don’t know who he is. I can’t trust him to do the right thing.

This morning, it finally dawned on me that in all the time my husband was pretending to be working on our marriage, while secretly carrying on with the mistress he had sworn on his mother’s life he had broken up with, he was merely buying time to prepare himself for divorce. Time to acquire the Deeds to the house we own jointly. To acquire every detail of my finances. Time to plan his life, secretly find a flat and prepare himself for what he seems to do best, which is fucking with my life.

It has dawned on me that the events that occurred on 18th April, the last day I saw him, were engineered by him and his mistress to draw an end to our marriage and his pretences.

Who is this man? Who is this serpent? How can I still be discovering things this man has done to hurt me? What on earth have I done to him to deserve the bad treatment?

I have decided that I will not tell any friends about the end of my marriage until I get my shit sufficiently together. This week, one of my closest friends who knew something was wrong as I had bailed Facebook and wasn’t keeping in touch managed to unknowingly upset me when I finally told him after he threatened to contact my husband to find out what was wrong with me. He means well.

Even though I only told him the briefest details of recent events, his reaction was that of huge shock. He kept saying none of this makes any sense because he knows both of us and knows how very much in love and utterly devoted we were. This is classic midlife crisis. He’s seen it happen all the time. He insisted he uses us as an exemplary marriage when he counsels other couples. It doesn’t make sense. He went on and on putting me on the defensive when I know that I had tried my best to save my marriage. I was willing to try marriage counselling but my husband wouldn’t.

He’s the one that left. I tried my best to save my marriage following discovery of the affair but I can’t force someone to stay married to me when he doesn’t want to.

This morning, it has also dawned on me that there is no man or friend who will rescue me from my current woes and make things better.

There is no knight in shining armour galloping gallantly to try and save me from the craptastic time I’m having right now.

Every one has got their own shit to deal with and will not be leaving theirs to try and make this transition easier for me.

Depending on a man for the last 14 years hasn’t done me much good.

I will have to do this by myself. I will have to save myself

save yourself

Right now, if I want to wake up every day and sit there for hours and hours and cry my eyes out, then so be it. I shall cry until I have no tears.

If I need to have that long postponed mental breakdown, end up in a hospital for the summer, then so be it.

One thing is clear though, I will have to tap into all that is within me to dig myself out of this utter hell and move on with my life as best as I can.

But one day, some day, it will happen, that day isn’t today and that is OK too.

todays pain

4

Day 84 – I’ve Never Known Pain Like This…:-(

This is a weight loss blog but real life happens and through all the hell, I am staying 100% on my diet.

I have chosen to be completely honest in this blog. Every time I post, I will post whatever is on my mind. One day, in some years, however my life has panned out, I will look back at this diary as a true account of my darkest and bleakest days.

I won’t fake it by writing anything I’m not feeling.

I won’t pretend to be OK.

I am not OK.

I am devastated, traumatised, still in deep shock, crushed, sad, depressed, confused.

I have never felt pain like this which is not only emotional but also manifests physically.

I have been abandoned by the man I loved and trusted implicitly with my life.

sometimes you fall down

Last night, I had a lovely chat with my sister who lives in the US and who has been an amazing source of support. What she doesn’t know is that at 1 am, I was still sitting on the sofa I had sourced after careful measurements by my husband and I, to map out a perfect room, and I sat there and cried out loud like a baby.

I thought I was done crying but there I was, alone, crying inconsolably.

My marriage has ended in the most unimaginably painful and cruel way. I haven’t seen my husband since 18th April and for 10 of those days, he was abroad on business. Six days ago, he sent me an email to inform me that he wasn’t coming back home from his business trip and that our marriage was over.

Yes, dumped by email.

On March 17th my husband ignored my protests and insisted that he would meet his married mistress face to face to allegedly end their affair. They had dinner in a posh bar. He would return home around 1 or 2 am from meeting his mistress, expecting me to be there. I chose to spend the night at the Shangri-La hotel at the Shard, paid with his card. Even in that heartbreak, I blogged about staying 100 % on my diet.

I would later find out that 10 days later on 27th March, he would send his mistress a £70 bouquet of flowers in a week I call “I’m sorry, my love week” because he had spent that week apologising endlessly for his affair, the pain and hurt he had caused me, making plans for our future, talking about how our marriage would be better, how much he loved me, holding my hand and constantly stroking my face.

On 1st April, he would send his mistress expensive Easter chocolates, a couple of days after booking a holiday to Milan to allegedly work on our marriage.

After four months, his mistress got a face to face end even though they quickly resumed their affair, the 6th time they had broken and resumed their affair after only a week or two.

After 14 years of loving this man unconditionally, making life-changing sacrifices that even 1% of women would not make, he chose to send me the coldest email to inform me that our marriage was over.

love is a blind whore

Following his email, he would register with Royal Mail to immediately redirect his mails without the courtesy of informing me or allowing me to change countless utilities and other home accounts currently in his name. I would find out this week that my husband could not even face me to collect the piles of letters he has here from a letter from Royal Mail addressed to the “Occupier

I have done absolutely nothing wrong to this man to deserve the cruel treatment.

I have asked him several times if there is anything that I have done to deserve the despicable way he has treated me. I would feel better if I had done something to deserve even 1 % of the cruelty.

This was the nicest, gentlest, kindest man I ever knew. I often told people if there is a heaven, this man would go straight in as he didn’t have a mean bone in his body. I would often describe him as someone who wouldn’t hurt a fly he would pick flies and set them down in the garden when I would be like kill the bastards.

And now, I (the person who has done absolutely nothing but supported and loved him for 14 years), I am the one that he has chosen to dump 45 years of wickedness and cruelty on.

How on earth could someone who for 14 years treated me like a princess, who would look at me with so much love in his eyes, who would constantly tell me I was his world and he couldn’t imagine his life without me, we would constantly tell each other that our certainty was that we would be with each other forever. His countless cards including his 2015 Valentines’ day with handwritten notes about loving me now and always.

2015-03-27 13.35.29

20150510_120303

Last night, I looked at about 70 photos and videos I had forwarded him in April to remind him of our lives which were full of fun and laughter. Looking at those pictures it occurred to me that the times he was fiddling on his phone and smiling at me, including a holiday in Oman in December, he could have been emailing his mistress or other women.

How could this man be smiling at me while actively (not passively) trawling dating websites for wife number two and engaging in an intense affair with a married woman he believes he will live happily ever after with even though he had only known her for two minutes and had never even met her two children?

If these two scumbags end up setting up home, I’m assuming the same way she wined, dined and fucked him in her marital home, she will be fucking the next guy in their home if he’s away on business?

How could this man who pledged to love and protect me lie, deceive, betray and hurt me the way he has done? Why has he behaved like a monstrous scumbag since I found out about his affair?

How could he show zero appreciation, zero loyalty, zero consideration, zero thoughts, zero regards, zero decency, to me after I had spent every day since I was 27 years old loving him?

Every single day, including this morning, the shock hits me all over again.

I am crying as I write this.

I am still not sleeping well. Yesterday, I took some sleeping pills but it wasn’t a brilliant night. Last week, I had taken the sleeping pills with my sister sitting in my bed, nursing me like I was a baby until the drugs knocked me out. Perhaps her love and concern were the reasons those pills worked better a week ago.

I would be the first to tell myself to get over the end of my marriage. Get on with it and I am doing my best to do so but it is impossible to explain to anyone who didn’t know this man and I just how much of a shock all of this had been.

In 14 years, he never told me, not even once, that there was anything about our lives or marriage he wasn’t happy about.

I know grief. I have lost people close to me including losing my father when he was in his early 40s. My childhood had ended after his death when I was 9, watching my beautiful mum who was only 35 deal with her crippling grief.

This feeling is worse. I do not mean to demean my mother’s or anyone’s grief but I am only stating my opinion and perhaps another time I will expand on those thoughts.

I have abandonment issues which stem from my dad dying and years of therapy have not cured these issues.

Men leave. They leave or they die.

My marriage was my security blanket. It was the only constant and certainty I was sure of in my life but here we are.

I am right to have abandonment issue. Men leave. I have been abandoned by the man I loved and trusted implicitly with my life.

9

Day 80 – I Will Survive. But Will I? Really?

I am incredibly sad today.

I am overwhelmed by life. I am a little OCD and I am scared by little changes, let alone the impossibly massive changes happening in my life. I try to limit the panic attacks.

This is my worst nightmare.

I am overwhelmed by all I have to do to survive this impossible period of my life. I am overwhelmed by the impossibly complicated systems, TV, computers, even window blinds, in every part of my home which my husband has left me to begin to untangle alone while he skips along happily forging ahead with his new life and his wonderful fresh start.

Where the fuck do I start?

I’m told that things will get better with time but right now, it all seems bleak and dark. The rainbow is hidden by thick dark clouds.

Will the sun ever shine again?

dark-clouds-wallpapers

Searching for various things today, all I seem to find are countless romantic cards from someone who always wrote about loving me forever. Instead, every single day, I make new despicable, wicked and ill-advised discoveries that continue to provoke and treat me with utter contempt.

I am the cheated on wife. I am the wronged one. I am the one who discovered his affair, dating website profiles and countless chats with numerous women online. He was the one who for 10 weeks continued secretly seeing his mistress who is married with two kids whilst pretending to save our marriage.

He is the one that cheated. He is the one that left. He is the despicable monster that ended 14 years relationship by email drafted by him and his Vietnamese mistress. And yet, he has chosen to treat me like utter shite???

He was the one that agreed with his married mistress that after 14 years, our marriage was easily disposable because we haven’t got children; never mind the 8 IVF treatments I endured and his sperm issues that caused the childlessness. She asked him countless times to leave me. If he left me, she pledged to leave her husband.

Why doesn’t she leave her husband first? I asked. Because they have two children. Two utterly morally bankrupt and despicable monsters.

Tomorrow is my dearest aunt’s funeral. She was extremely close to my mum who is utterly devastated. It all happened so suddenly. I will always be extremely saddened by the fact that as my aunt laid in a coma for a week, desperately fighting for her life, my mother instead of focussing on her darling sister and reflecting on their lives together, spent the week burdened with my doomed marital woes.

Monday May 11th is my birthday. I am very big on birthdays. This will be the saddest birthday of my entire life.

But I’ve got to have hope. I’ve got to stay positive. I’ve got to stay strong. There will be other birthdays. For one thing, next birthday, I will be slim and fit.

2

Day 73 – Wait a Minute…

I’m a little busy right now…

Can I please postpone my mental breakdown?

too busy for nervous breakdown

This has been an extremely tough week mentally and physically. I feel like I am fighting for my life and I guess in some ways, I am.

Let’s start with the physical…

I have physical limitations. They include extremely serious spinal problems. I suffer from excruciatingly painful chronic back problems. I refuse to be pumped full of chemicals and so, I grin and bear it. Mind over matter and all that.

My daily routine when my husband was home involved a loving and short rub of my back in the morning and sometimes at night. After 14 years, he was the only one who knew exactly how to rub my back to give me immeasurable relief.

We would go to sleep with him spooning my back. Those back rubs were my lifeline. I often told him the way he held me at night was one of the best things in my life. It is (was) akin to coming home.

There is no one to rub my back and in a small way, ease my pains.

There is no one to spoon, hold and comfort me at night.

This week, I have been logging around heavy stuff that I have no business lifting. I’ve been loading and pushing heavy bins through long steep passages. I have not done any such “manly” thing for over 20 years (6 years relationship, plus a little gap where I had a boyfriend, plus 14 years with my husband).

At the end of all that, every bone in my body was shattered. My back was on fire. I am proud of myself for carrying on with things. By goodness have I carried on with things. I was feeling like shit and there I was, accessories to match my clothes, full make-up, bright red lipstick, bring red nail polish, big Prada sunglasses, rock star me.

Now that an event two Saturdays ago has announced to my gossiping neighbours that my husband is no longer at our home, my goodness, they must know that I keep ticking. I keep going. I hold my head high. I haven’t done anything to be ashamed of. The explosion that has rocked my life wasn’t lit by me.

The only place I will lose it will be behind closed doors.

i have to scream now

Mentally, this week has stretched me beyond all endurance. If I had tried to write this post yesterday, it would have been complete and utter jibberish. If this post is littered with mistakes and nonsensical, forgive me.

It’s been one of those weeks. I haven’t slept for more than one or two hours each night since Saturday. I am both worried and impressed by myself that I am still functioning.

I had planned to check myself into a clinic this morning to get dosed up and sleep for hours and hours and hours and hours. Sleep always cures all my ills.

And then the gardener who was supposed to revamp my garden which has been neglected for months for reasons I now understand, cancelled yesterday. (He didn’t turn up today either but hopefully tomorrow will be third time lucky.) There was no way on earth I was going to leave the house knowing that by the time I got back home or find someone else to sort the garden, it would be a jungle out there.

I might as well announce to the whole world that my life is in complete chaos. Hell no. There must be some order in all this confusion.

This mental breakdown will have to wait another day, preferably, never.

Fine

I am not being flippant about mental health issues nor am I dicing with my vulnerable state of mind. This morning, I had a very long phone call with a very kind practitioner at the clinic who has armed me with another appointment, more information and reassurances that help is at hand 24/7. He was very nice to me and I found myself crying like a baby. He reassured me that the trauma and grief I was experiencing, with the endless sleepless nights, depressed mood, crying etc. were normal in the circumstances.

I felt reassured that he thought that I hadn’t completely lost it even though he didn’t even know a fraction of the events of the last 9 weeks and one day.

For all that is good in the universe, I hope that I finally get some sleep tonight.

I am down but I am not out.

down but not out