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.

 

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.

6

Day 323 -Please May I Rant?

I had a fantastic relaxed Christmas with my sister and kids who showered me with love, presents and kindness. My beautiful, intelligent, kind generous niece calls her savings her “college funds”. Smart girl. She chose to spend those buying me endless presents.

2015-12-24 23.19.30

She now has a piggy box that is in the form of an ATM machine, complete with cash card with PIN for cash withdrawal. She sent me a WhatsApp message calling it “the coolest thing ever.”

I concur.

IMG-20160102-WA0009

Even after Christmas, the generosity and love of my family continued including a most welcome and unexpected gift from my sweet sister who lives in the States and gifts from cousins who visited from Manchester.

I am truly blessed.

I had a very difficult New Year’s eve sobbing my eyes out and thinking of happier years but I am only human and blips are to be expected. In the midst of my sadness, my little sister called me at the stroke of midnight, a call that she will never fully understand how much it meant.

But I’m actually in a good place right now.

I am resigned that there are tough days ahead of me this year with my ex, court appearances and all sorts but I am also accepting that whatever the future holds, I will be totally fine.

I truly believe that whatever happens in my life has been pre-ordained by God. I may never understand his reasons for shit happening but I keep the faith that I will bounce back and I will be fine.

All sounding good, right?

Well…forgive me while I rant.

You may bypass my rant and scroll to the end of this post for news on my weight loss journey!

keep-calm-and-scroll-down-6

I am rattled by someone who knows my ex having heard our marriage has ended telling me that he is “obviously having a serious mental breakdown.”

Two weeks ago, one of his friends said exactly the same to me.

Today’s comments rattled me because of the matter of fact way it was delivered barely disguising the judgment that my wifely duty would be to stand by your man through thin and thick.

That boat sailed in June when my ex filed for divorce.

joan mad men

It took some time to explain that I did stand by my ex and I wasn’t the one that ended our marriage or filed for divorce.

For months, I accepted the mid life crisis/mental breakdown and gave my ex the benefit of the doubt to seek help when he himself accepted his erratic behaviour and claimed to be getting therapy.

I stood by my ex with all the lies, deceit and craziness until he wrote below in an email from a business trip Singapore ending out marriage and categorically telling me he wasn’t ill.

“Despite what you might think, I am not chasing shadows or a fantasy life or being controlled nor am I ill. If that’s how you want to rationalise what’s happening then ok but it’s not the reality. Nor is it about Lilly Wong. [The fake name he used for his mistress Mylien in the mistaken belief I didn’t know her identity while he told her everything about me including my home address and mobile phone number.] It is my decision alone. There is no one pushing me other than myself. I want to forge a new path alone.” 

When I mentioned this email, both told me that of course he would say that as he clearly doesn’t realise he’s mentally ill.

But what would you have me do? We only communicate through lawyers. They had no responses.

I wasn’t the one that wrote that email from Singapore ending our marriage and 14.5 years relationship.

I wasn’t the one that chose our 11th wedding anniversary to get lawyers to send an email asking for divorce.

I wasn’t the one that filed for divorce using the law firm of the sister of the woman he had an affair with.

I wasn’t the one that reneged on a pledge to continue financial support and instead pay £0.

I wasn’t the one that ended a mediation process that could have resulted in an amicable settlement.

I wasn’t the one that has refused an offer for settlement, refused to make a counter offer for settlement and instead, added insult to injury by asking for proof of patently obvious physical health issues witnessed first hand for over 14 years and given as part of the reasons for ending the marriage.

When I mentioned that last bit this afternoon, the response was a shocked he asked for proof of what? Followed by surely that’s clear proof that he is mentally ill? Surely, by asking for proof of something so obvious, his lawyers should realise their client is ill and therefore not write such a stupid letter?

I swallowed my irritation and patiently explained that the lawyers are not there to examine my ex’s mental health if he appears for all intents and purposes sane enough to give them instructions.

Their primary aim is to bill matters and make money for their firm.

Before you tell me to stand by your man, I wasn’t the one that ended my marriage, secretly moving 5 minutes away to live near a married woman, having sworn several times on their own mother’s life that the affair had ended.

But I am the one that in just over two weeks, will find myself in a court of law because after 14.5 years, my ex cannot do the sensible and commercial thing of settling our finances outside of court; where the only real winners will be lawyers and their legal fees.

I am the one who spent several days just before Christmas looking at 100s of pages of court mandated documents of my ex’s 12 months bank statements and credit cards statements clearly documenting his infidelity.

Proof of dining and wining another woman on two occasions the week before Christmas 2014 when he had told me he had work dinners and Christmas parties.

Proof of wining, dining, buying expensive gifts, flowers, jewellery for another woman including an expensive celebratory dinner on the day he filed for divorce.

Proof of his adultery continuing at the times he was swearing on his mother’s life or telling his own mother and only sibling the affair had ended.

Proof of my ex spending £291 in July on erectile dysfunction pills with his mistress.

I wouldn’t wish those documents on any woman but they are what they are and I’ve dealt with them and I’ve moved on.

But please don’t give me that stand by your man crap because I can sleep easy at night knowing hand on heart, I did absolutely everything to stand by this man and the sanctity of my marriage.

If my ex one day tells me that all his actions have been as a result of mental illness, I shall encourage treatment, ensure he has support to get all the help in the world and I shall wish him well for his future.

But please don’t you dare imply that I should still be standing by someone who has filed for divorce and has made it crystal clear that he stands by his actions as despicable as they are and that he is not mentally ill.

and-not-a-single-fuck-was-given-that-day-cat

In other news, in 8 days over Christmas, I gained an eye popping 9kg!

The good news is that in 7 days since I restarted my diet on 28th December, I have lost exactly…9kg.

what the hell

I am resolved to stay on my diet and for the first time in my life, start a diet and get to the end of it.

I must not allow the stresses of the coming days and weeks to derail me from my weight loss goals.

I desperately need to do this for myself.

I ought to do this for myself.

I shall do this for myself.

2

Day 285: Week 41 Weigh-in – Flying Solo

I haven’t posted here for a few weeks. As always, thank you to those that have been in touch to make sure that I am OK.

I am OK. In fact, I am much better than just OK.

The last few weeks have been eventful to say the least. In fact, without being overly melodramatic, the last few weeks have been life-changing and life-affirming and I will one day write more about them.

The main things to share include the fact that I am at peace with my single life. I am at peace with flying solo. I am at peace with being by myself. I am at peace with however my financial circumstances pan out after the courts next year because I will be just fine.

I am a survivor.

flying solo

The last few weeks have firmly stamped on my head that in spite of all the crap from this year, I am still an attractive woman who men find desirable. In a few years time when I have fully healed and rediscovered myself, I may pursue relationships.

And if I ever have a man in my life, he will be there to complement my life and not to complete it. No man will ever become my whole life. I am enough for myself.

My life can still be full of possibilities, full of joys, happiness, pleasures, adventures, new memories. I can make all these things happen for myself without needing a significant other.

work-in-progress

I am not saying that the last few weeks mean that I am fully recovered from the devastation of this year but I have certainly had a major turn.

I am still a work in progress.

Next week, I will see my amazing psychotherapist for yet another therapy session. I also have an appointment with my psychiatrist and I will probably stay on medication for the foreseeable future but that is fine. I am not ashamed of help.

no matter what

On the Cambridge diet front, for several reasons, I took a planned break from the diet but I am back on it 100% this week. I fully appreciate that every other diet that I have been on in the past with some degree of success gets to this stage, where my weight is in the 80s and fails because I become comfortable and complacent.

This time, I am determined to get to the end of a weight loss journey. I will do it.

Watch this space.

i may not be

Week Forty One’s Verdict: today’s weight 89.6 kg, week’s weight loss 5.5 kg (12.16 pounds); total weight loss; 34.8 kg; 76.6 pounds; 5 stones 6.7 pounds

4

Day 195 – Bank Holiday Blues

I’ve had a sad couple of days.

sad

I guess the emptiness of my life hits me at long weekends. I do not know how to fill that emptiness. I will not force things. I will give myself time. This is not the time to heal. I do not have time to heal when I spend my days fielding new crap from my ex.

Many of my friends are still unaware of the end of my marriage and I am far too exhausted to tell them.

This week, I told one of my friends who lives in the States and who I have known since secondary school. She screamed for the entire two hours plus we talked thanks to free WhatsApp international calls. She sat there looking at photos my ex and I had taken with her and her family in New York. She was genuinely shocked. She couldn’t believe what I was telling her. She had noticed I had bailed my Facebook and had been worried about me. She tells me that she knows us. She knows our love. It is the real thing.

If she was asked to pick one out of 100 marriages that would make it forever, she would have picked us.

She had even come all the way from New York, heavily pregnant with her first child to attend our wedding.

“No, no, no, no no. This is not happening.”

“It has already happened B.”

shitalready

She tells me that my ex is having a serious mental breakdown.

I also told another friend who I have known since primary school who now lives in Spain after I dodged answering several messages where she enquired about my ex. She kept asking about my ex. I finally thought this is silly and so I told her. She was shocked and in disbelief. She had spent the last 7 years or so seeing countless loving photos of my ex and I and countless expressions of love on Facebook where all my ex ever posted were photos of us or events we were attending.

“Those happy Facebook photos was the life l truly believed I had.”

She tells me that my ex is having a mental breakdown.

I am exhausted by life. Telling people can be so draining.

She tells me I am the nicest person she knows. I am the most beautiful person she knows. She tells me how highly sought-after I was when we were growing up. She claims all the guys wanted to be with me. She says I shouldn’t say I will never marry again because I am far too young. Time will heal and I will meet the right man. I deserve to be with someone wonderful because I am such a fantastic person and she loves me so so so much. She will pray for me and ask her church to pray for me. She will do special midnight prayers for me.

I end the call grateful for her kindness and feeling a bit guilty for feeling exhausted by the call.

I call my 4 year old nephew who lives abroad. He immediately says can I speak to uncle ex even though the little boy hasn’t seen my ex for a year. It’s uncle ex, uncle ex, uncle ex.

Fuck uncle ex.

On my ex’s birthday, my niece and other nephews remember his birthday. They have spent countless weeks of the summer holiday, over several years of their young lives, holidaying with us during my ex’s August birthday. They go about with sadness, their young lives shattered by the realisation that shit happens. The uncle they adored so much, often declared was their best uncle, with whom they had spent so many happy times, long summer holidays, spent several days over last two Christmases, didn’t want to know them any more.

They mean absolutely nothing to this man they adored who has known them since they were babies and who has so easily discarded them, along with their auntie.

shithappens2

Yesterday, my mum told one of her close friends who had spent a few nights with my ex and I, about the end of my marriage. Afterwards, my mum was very sad and she said that the shock of the end of my marriage had hit her all over again. We tried to console each other.

The biggest fallacy is that for 14 years, I was with someone who I considered a saint. I painted him to my family like one, and they loved him like one.

As my mum and I tried to make some sense of the last few months and my ex’s continued bizarre and upsetting behaviour, which are so far removed from this person that we all knew and loved so much, we couldn’t make sense of it all.

The only sense either of us could make for the vitriol and wickedness is that this man is seriously mentally ill, in need of psychiatric medication but doesn’t know it.

But he says he isn’t ill.

He said that’s just my way of rationalising the end of our marriage.

When he had initially accepted that he was behaving irrationally, and had indicated he would get counselling, I had done my wifely duty. I had given him chances upon chances. I had reassured him that I would stick with him for the long haul as long as he got help.

But he then declared he was well.

If he really isn’t ill, the only other alternative is too heart-breaking and scary.

The alternative which my ex has insisted upon; that he is perfectly well.

That alternative that the person who has done the evil things this man has done, continues to do, does so with a clear head.

The alternative that means that I had loved a monstrous, evil, heartless psychopath for 14 years and I didn’t even have a clue.

What the hell does that make me?

17-who-am-i

This evening my sister told me of her sadness hearing a song that was part of our wedding video; a wedding video my young nephews used to watch endlessly, declaring that they wanted to get married like their auntie and uncle.

I tell my sister that I cry when I listen to love songs; and so I don’t listen to such songs. Lately, I have been listening to old songs from my teenage years. Songs that evoke memories of happier days; freer days, going clubbing in London as a teenager. My friends and I had no money, so we would arrive early enough for free entries. I would dance all night and nurse a diet coke and a bottle of water all night.

I desperately hope that those memories will block the sad ones. They do and they don’t.

My little nephew who is a sensitive old soul sends me one of his countless “Auntie are you OK?” messages.

“I’m OK, thanks sweetie. How are you?”

We play this little game all the time; I know that he knows that I’m not really OK.

And that’s perfectly OK.

everythingwillbeok