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Merry Christmas

Merry Christmas to every single one of you who visit this blog regularly, or anyone who just happens to stumble upon me.

I also wish you all, the very best of happiness for 2016. May it bring to all of us, peace, love, good health and happiness.

Thank you very much for all the wonderful support and comfort you have all given me this year. I will forever be immensely grateful.

If you have a moment, please reach out to someone, family, neighbour, acquaintance, foe or even a complete stranger who might be a little lonely, grieving, elderly or just anyone who might appreciate some kindly words or friendly thoughts.

Perhaps something next year, I shall write about surviving Christmas after a devastating loss or unexpected marriage breakdown, especially if like me, you happen to be childless.

As for me, I have immersed myself in love, family, friendship, peace, happiness, music, contentment, gratitude, laughter…and I confess, lots and lots of yummy food.

Yep, the diet has been postponed until 28th December.

C’mon, I never claimed to be a saint!

Ho ho fucking ho.

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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.

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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.

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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

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Day 169: Glamour Me Oh Ancient Vampire

I’ve had a very sad weekend.

I can’t escape my head.

I am heartbroken.

I am the first person to tell myself; get over it and I will…

I just don’t know how long it’ll take.

The end of any marriage is very tough, no matter what I tell myself and it’s reassuring to read that even conscious uncoupling Gwyneth Paltrow has admitted that she’s finding things tough. Phew. She’s human after all.

The shock that my marriage has ended still hits me daily. The shock of the secrets, lies, betrayal, dashed hopes, shattered dreams, a derailed path in life, twosome becoming solo; knowing that I had wasted 14 precious years of my life with someone who is a complete stranger to me.

I feel the sort of drained emptiness I would usually feel after a long IVF cycle turns negative.

All that wasted time, money, mental and physical energy…

Only this is a million times worse.

Today is my ex’s 45th birthday. I get the mid-life crisis. I get the panic that if he lives to be as old as his dad when he died, he only has 25 years old left on planet earth, and even less, if he takes after his grandfather.

I get the panic of is this all there is to life? I get the whole cliched mid-life crisis.

But the truth is, if my ex had spent a little more time remembering and appreciating some of the good things in his life, instead of the idiocy of chasing greener grasses, if he had watered his own grass even a little bit, he might have appreciated some of the things in his life more.

The if onlys are pointless thoughts and wasted energy, I know that.

The reality that still astounds me to this day is that prior to my discovery of his affair, in all 14 years we were together, my ex never for one single day ever said that he was unhappy about anything in our lives.

Not a single word. Absolutely Nada.

My thoughts have been filled with birthdays gone; the surprise birthday cakes I would have delivered to his work as he was usually working very long hours on his birthday. The surprise big 40th birthday party in 2010 that took me 8 months to plan with military precision and secrecy, where I managed to get all his friends and family from all over the country and he didn’t have a clue. In 2011, I lovingly made him roasted duck with all the trimmings. In 2012, I cooked black cod a la Nobu and then planned a fun Olympic themed birthday party. In 2013, I got a Michelin restaurant to give him a little birthday surprise, followed by a birthday party a few days later with the most gorgeous cake. In 2014, another Michelin restaurant, my all time favourite London restaurant Hakkasan Mayfair, where we used to go at least once a month, and where he would admit taking his mistress, also gave him a little birthday surprise, complete with a candle.

I wonder whether his birthday wishes were to finally find a way out of his marriage?

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I guess after tomorrow, the next big occasion to survive would be Christmas.

Christmas has always been my favourite holiday. This year, the thought of it depresses the fuck out of me. For 15 years, I spent every single Christmas with my ex who would lavish me with gifts; I was always overwhelmed by his generosity when we were together.

I think about going away to some beach somewhere over Christmas but the thoughts of being surrounded by happy families/couples depress the fuck out of me, that is, assuming I don’t spend all my money fighting my ex in court.

The idea of staying at home for Christmas also depresses the fuck out of me.

The emptiness of Christmases trees compared to the bulging Christmas tree of last year; lovingly typed Christmas menus, meticulous planning, all depress the fuck out of me.

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Perhaps, I would do something I’ve always thought of but have never done.

Perhaps this Christmas, I will forget all about myself and my broken heart and spend Christmas volunteering at Crisis, the homeless people’s shelter.

I don’t know, we’ll see.

I don’t want to wish away my life but I do wish that like in the drama True Blood, some ancient vampire could help me take away my sadness and my heartbreak; help take away my hurt.

I wish some vampire would glamour me and erase every single memory of my ex and our life together.

RIP Cilla Black. Legend. xxx