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Life is for Living! My best is yet to come…

I have not written in my diary since May.

I’m not entirely sure why as I have a lot to report and yet, I’m just quietly getting on with life.

Thank you to those of you who have been in touch privately and to all of you who continue to follow me, even with months of silence. xx

And thank you for all your support of my Instagram page. Please feel free to keep sharing.

http://www.instagram.com/belleslowcarbworld/

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Last week, a friend contacted me saying that she wanted to speak to someone who has been through a difficult divorce. My first thought reading her message was that this divorce thing has become an epidemic. I had only seen her two months ago at my party (see below). It looks like no one is immune from marriage breakdown or worse still, difficult ones.

I want to use this post to say to anyone who is going through a difficult relationship or marriage breakdown, bereavement or any sort of loss; this will hurt like nothing has ever hurt you.

You may feel the sort of emotional and even physical pain you have never felt before.

But the one thing that I can absolutely, hand on heart promise you, is that it will definitely get easier.

The end of my marriage was the most devastating thing that has ever happened to me. I felt debilitating emotional and physical pain, I did not even know were humanly possible to feel, let alone possible to survive.

Last year, June 5th, 2016, on what would have been my 12th wedding anniversary, I wrote my darkest post. That post caused a lot of upset, and reading it now, it still feels sad, but I felt the sort of somewhat detached sadness you feel reading about something that has happened to someone else. That is a massive growth.

Warning: may cause upset. For completion, you can read that post here, and its follow-up written just three days later.

This brings me to the main point that I would like to make. No matter how dark things may seem, even when you reach rock bottom like I did, things will definitely get better.

Last wedding anniversary, June 5th 2016, I wanted to die. I couldn’t see a way out from the emotional pain of my divorce, or the physical pain I was feeling.

A year later, June 5th, 2017, I genuinely did not even realise what day it was until I needed to check the date on some chicken, to put in the freezer. And even after I realised what day it was, I continued with my mundane tasks unperturbed.

Life feels like it has moved on and what better way to do so than to have a party?! 🙂

And so, in July, I had a belated birthday and divorce celebration party, putting an end to the whole sorry saga of the end of my marriage.

It was a truly magical night of music, food, cake, champagne, drinks, laughter and dancing into the early mornings in a marquee erected in the garden, complete with dancing floor, lights and smoke machine…why the hell not…:-)

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I was surrounded by good friends and wonderful family, my mum, my sisters, niece and nephews.

On the afternoon of my party, I had the surprise of my life when my little sister flew in from where she lives overseas to attend my party. All my family, including my 7 year old nephew, knew she was coming to my party, and they all managed to completely hide it from me.

I sobbed like a baby when I saw her, but they were tears of joy.

After the party, my home was filled with flowers from friends.

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The next day, I had the enviable task of opening a mountain of presents.

What a lucky girl I am.

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I guess the whole night can be summed up by one song…

I will Survive, which followed my speech. There was a frenzy defiance of loud singing, dancing, and me, singing along with a microphone…as you do. I have watched the video of this part of the night countless times – the powerful feat of survival.

I will survive.

I have survived.

I am surviving.

I’m not saying that my life is now a bed of roses or that there are not challenges, even sometimes on a daily basis.

I’m not saying that I don’t get moments when I feel waves of sadness, not only that my marriage ended but that it ended in a way that I cannot even cherish the thoughts of the years with my ex given that by his own words, he was online dating and looking “for a way out” throughout our 14.5 years relationship.

Of course I’m sad that the way my marriage ended means that there has been zero contact between my ex and I since November 2016, when we concluded the withdrawal of his ridiculous case for the Mac computer, we used to share.

Of course I feel sadness that my marriage ended as no one gets married intending it to fail.

I feel sadness that I invested 14.5 years of my short life on a man I cannot even text in an emergency, and yet, I have somehow managed to stay friendly with all other significant exes, including a violent, abusive ex, who had the grace to apologise sincerely for his actions.

Of course I feel sad that the last time I saw my ex, he excused all his bad behaviour as acting under “legal advisement” and blatantly did not recognise just how badly he had behaved, let alone deem it fit to render an apology for his actions.

But I am well adjusted, positive and I am not bitter about the past.

I do not need an apology from my ex to continue to rebuild my life nor do I need an explanation for why he really behaved like he did.

I’m not the first woman lied to, betrayed, hurt or devastated by a man she trusted implicitly, and I won’t be the last.

I am most definitely a better and stronger person than I was during my marriage. I recognise strengths and growths in my life that certainly were not there before.

I am also very excited and a little daunted about a new project that I start in exactly two weeks. Perhaps one day, when I can, I will write more about it. If it works, it will certainly be life changing. But however it pans out, I am very proud of myself for being brave enough to embark on a journey that would take me through uncharted and uncertain territories.

I am proud of myself for making things happen.

I am proud of myself for not allowing the end of my marriage to be the end of my dreams.

I am proud of myself…and it’s OK to remind myself of that fact.

And like my fabulous cake says, Life is For Living! The best is yet to come…

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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.

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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 427: Get Thee Behind Me Divorce Grief

Tomorrow is my brother’s birthday.

Tomorrow is also exactly one year since my husband left our former marital home to pursue his affair with Mylien, a married Vietnamese mother of two, whose husband was living in Italy and who my husband met on an online dating website for singles.

Even before I found out about his four months affair, Mylien had allegedly broken up with him four times, because she didn’t like him remaining married, whilst married herself.

After I found out, she allegedly told him that if he left me, she would leave her husband. When I asked why she doesn’t leave her husband first, my ex said because they have two children.

Our marriage was easily dispensable to my ex because we didn’t have children. He conveniently forgot to tell her about his sperm issues and erectile dysfunction which resulted in 8 painful IVF, 2 miscarriages, my undergoing countless gruelling experimental treatment in our unsuccessful quest to have children.

My 11 year marriage and 14.5 years relationship ended with an email sent by my husband from a business trip in Singapore, informing me he wasn’t coming home.

Mylien remains (happily?) married to her husband.

I call my ex, my husband because a year after he left our former home and nearly a year after he rushed to file for divorce, one working day after his lawyer (same divorce law firm as his mistress Mylien’s sister Quyen) sent me an email, on our 11th wedding anniversary, informing me he wanted a divorce, celebrating with an expensive meal with Mylien the day after he filed for divorce, having secretly moved to a place 5 minutes from her home in Weybridge, as he sought to forge ahead with a new life where unbeknown to her husband, my ex was holidaying with his mistress and her children, as my life descended into chaos, untold grief and darkness, we remain married.

I do not know when the court case to settle our finances will end. The second court hearing, the FDR, which was meant to happen this April has been postponed as my ex failed to return a court mandated document. The hearing might be rescheduled for June, July or whenever the court has availabilities.

If this case doesn’t settle during that second hearing, it might drag on until a final trial at the end of the year or even early next year, when my husband and I cease to have any control over the settlement of our financial affairs and will surrender all power to a judge to settle our affairs as he deems fit. Given that the same judge would also decide whether we can appeal against his decision, it is an extremely foolish place to be and only 10% of divorcing spouses are stupid enough to go to a final trial. I am resigned that I might be one of those 10% through no fault of mine.

I have tried to settle amicably outside of court in mediation which my ex ended. I also made a settlement offer which he rejected and refused to make a counter offer.

I am resigned that the nightmare and uncertainties I continue to live in, ends when it ends.

A year after my husband left our former home, I wish I was writing a reflective post that celebrates the countless personal achievements that I have had in the past one year of being on my own and to celebrate the person that I am becoming.

Perhaps I could write about how having been driven around by men in the last 22 years, a year ago when my husband left, I had only driven 2 or 3 very short times in the previous three years and couldn’t even confidently drive 5 minutes to the supermarket.

And yet last week, and the week before that, I was this woman driving on the motorway.

No, as much as I would like to pat myself on the back, reflect on my year and say well done, I have had a tough few days and I have other things on my mind.

I am overwhelmed by grief and sadness that have resurfaced from nowhere. I had been doing so well lately…

It’s been a few days where my emotions have been all over the place. Where every little thing makes me cry. Where I wonder whether my life would ever be as carefree as it used to be, happy, smiley, secure, certain, where I felt like I had someone in my life who would stay with me forever, for better for worse, in sickness and in health, through tears and laughters, where there seemed to be a purpose, a life plan, security.

As I write this, with uncontrollable tears, I’m forcing myself to look at the bigger picture.

Yes, divorce sucks lemon and I’m not going to make lemonade as I really shouldn’t be having sugar. However, there is no situation in life that stays the same. This period of uncertainty will someday pass. The feeling that I am adrift, no one to call my own, alone, will pass.

I tell myself to make a list.

Lists make everything seem clearer. I like to have a plan. It’s good to have a plan. I have to make my lists of ways to change things that I have control over, improve things, tick off my list and keep going.

I miss my old life. 

OK, I’ve said it but I also know that my old life is a fiction. There is nothing to miss when it didn’t exist.

That old life was all a lie.

That smiling face, the conman’s smile, the infectious laughter, the daily I love yous, the daily phone calls, the hand holdings, they were all lies.

You don’t miss something that never really existed.

You don’t miss something that never was.

You don’t miss an illusion.

I shouldn’t miss my old life because there is nothing to miss. 

And therefore, I tell myself that life is what you make of it. There is no old life to think of, there is just the now.

And the now, is what I make of it.

I will scribble in my notebook, make plans and make things happen. 

I will ride this current wave of grief and sadness, and it will surely pass.

It has all gone wrong on the diet front. I had a few bad days some weeks ago, following some divorce upset and  I have struggled ever since to recover.

I am going to take a couple of weeks off Cambridge, recharge and I will get back to it in the middle of May and finally give myself the big kick up the arse I need to make sure nothing else ever comes between me and this diet.

I will not stop until I reach goal.

In the meantime, get thee behind me sucky divorce grief.

 

5

Day 243: Week 35 Weigh-In – Slow and Steady Wins the Race – Another Mini Target Smashed!

Shit happens.

I am trying to move on with my life following the devastating and sudden end of my marriage and the incomprehensible and continuing acts of betrayals since then.
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Sadly, it looks like I will be facing a protracted court case to disentangle myself from my scumbag ex. As it stands, I am looking at a final hearing by end of summer 2016, possibly later.

This week, I made some very hard decisions which I am optimistic will help me move on with my life in a positive and fulfilling manner.

I also made the firm decision to start living life again instead of waiting for the end of my divorce/financial settlements to live again.

Baby steps and a work in progress.

I believe in the power of positive thinking.

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And as part of those tough but positive decisions, I have taken some bold, exciting but daunting steps which I might write about in coming weeks.

Shit happens and now I either deal with the shit or drown with the shit.

I choose to live.

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This morning, sitting on the edge of the bath, I found this unusually painful and hard on my bum. It finally dawned on me that this is because there is less padding on my previously humongous padded bottom!

Now that’s a nice problem to have.

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I have this week smashed the 5 1/2 stones loss. I am utterly thrilled.

Next mini target is 6 stones loss which will take me to a weight that I haven’t been since my 20s.

6 1/2 stones, that is another 12 pounds loss, will take me to a weight I haven’t been since I was a teenager.

This blows my mind more than chocolate ever did.

Week Thirty Five’s Verdict: today’s weight 88.7 kg, week’s weight loss 0.9 kg (1.98 pounds); total weight loss; 35.7 kg; 78.5 pounds; 5 stones 8.7 pounds

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I’ve actually lost approximately 79 pounds but I preferred the axes to ninja stars…but here’s another picture dedicated to a particular reader who wrote that she likes the photos I post on my blog! xx

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4

Day 234: The Wheelchair Club

In a previous lifetime, today would have been a good day to wallow in greasy takeaway and chocolates. Instead, I have stayed on my diet 100%.

I am still incapacitated with unbearable back pain.

When I think life couldn’t get any worse, I am dealt with more lies, betrayals and my heart is broken a million times all over again.

There is only so much one person can take but life has to go on.

I have to stay strong and keep telling myself that I am one of life’s true survivors.

I was unconscious for three days from an illness when I was nearly 9 years old. As an adult, I learnt that the illness was potentially fatal. That illness could have killed me. I am lucky to be alive today and for every day I stay alive, I have something to be thankful for.

The reality is that no one can predict the future and no one is the arbiter of what happens in anyone’s future.

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A few stories have made me think what an unpredictable world we live in.

I recently read a random article in the New York Times by a lady named Anne Thomas who at age 18, following a car accident, found herself in a wheelchair and paralysed from the chest down. She wrote:

Everyone is just one car accident, fall down the stairs, disease, violent crime or shallow dive away from becoming a member of the wheelchair club.”

I also recently read the story of Darcy Ward, a 23 year old Speedway biker with his brilliant life ahead of him, who is now paralysed following a crash in Poland a few weeks ago. Darcy will most likely spend the rest of his life in a wheelchair.

We all know what happened to the incredible Michael Schumacher, a man I very much admire and who introduced me to the joys of F1 motor racing.

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Perhaps the story that has moved me the most was published in this Saturday’s Times newspaper. It is that of the incredible Mark Pollock, the Northern Irish man who suddenly went blind at age 22. In spite of his blindness, he went on to became an adventurer, athlete, rower, author and motivational speaker, becoming the first blind man to race to the South Pole.

As if life wasn’t tough enough for Mark, in July 2010, he was dealt with more tragedy. Aged just 35 and four weeks before his wedding to an incredible woman, Mark suffered a tragic fall from an open second story window while staying with his friends. He broke his back and as well as being blind, he is now completely paralysed from the shoulder down.

Mark’s devoted fiancée, the gorgeous lawyer, Simone George, has stayed with him throughout the devastation of his paralysis but their wedding has never taken place as she considers it would be far too sad to walk down the aisle.

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Mark is living his own lessons, a pioneer exploring the frontiers of spinal cord injury recovery.

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Mark’s story will be told in a documentary called Unbreakable – The Mark Pollock Story out in UK cinemas on 9th October, 2015.

The truth in life is that no one knows what the future holds for any of us.

No one is the arbiter of anyone’s destiny and we can all follow our destiny, good or bad, regardless of anyone who thinks that they may decide our fate.

I can only attempt to live my life as a good person.

I shall leave the wickedness of others for them to be judged by their God or whatever they believe in.

Karma is a bitch.

All I pray is that I have front row seats to watch it’s manifestations.

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9

Day 204 – I Will Survive

I am physically and emotionally exhausted.

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

One of those nights when I have various versions of my all time favourite survival songs on auto replay…

Desperate times call for desperate measures

And like the songs say…

I am a survivor

I will survive

What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger

Please indulge me with the excessive YouTube Survivor Videos

At first I was afraid
I was petrified
Kept thinking I could never live
Without you by my side
But then I spent so many nights
Thinking how you did me wrong
I grew strong
I learned how to get along

And so you’re back
From outer space
I just walked in to find you here
With that sad look upon your face
I should have changed that stupid lock
I should have made you leave your key
If I had known for just one second
You’d be back to bother me

Go on now go walk out the door
Just turn around now
‘Cause you’re not welcome anymore
Weren’t you the one who tried to break me with goodbye
You think I’d crumble
You think I’d lay down and die

Oh no, not I

I will survive

As long as I know how to love
I know I will stay alive
I’ve got all my life to live
I’ve got all my love to give
And I’ll survive
I will survive (hey hey)

It took all the strength I had
Not to fall apart
Kept trying hard to mend
The pieces of my broken heart
And I spent oh so many nights
Just feeling sorry for myself
I used to cry
Now I hold my head up high

And you see me
Somebody new
I’m not that chained up little girl
Who fell in love with you
And so you felt like dropping in
And just expect me to be free
Now I’m saving all my loving
For someone who’s loving me
Go on now go walk out the door
Just turn around now
‘Cause you’re not welcome anymore

Weren’t you the one who tried to break me with goodbye
You think I’d crumble
You think I’d lay down and die
Oh no, not I
I will survive
As long as I know how to love
I know I will stay alive
I’ve got all my life to live
I’ve got all my love to give
And I’ll survive
I will survive (oh)

Go on now go walk out the door
Just turn around now
‘Cause you’re not welcome anymore
Weren’t you the one who tried to break me with goodbye
You think I’d crumble
You think I’d lay down and die
Oh no, not I
I will survive
As long as I know how to love
I know I will stay alive
I’ve got all my life to live
I’ve got all my love to give
And I’ll survive
I will survive
I will survive… !

8

Day 199: The Impotent Lothario

I have chosen to write what I feel on this blog as self therapy. If certain posts are too raw, please forgive me.

One day, I hope to read this diary and appreciate the journey I’ve been through, both on my weight-loss quest and the betrayal and heartbreak of the devastation of my life as I knew it.

I am not proud to admit that last night, I cried myself to sleep.

I had thought that the crying state of my grief is over especially as I know that the cause of my devastation, my heartless, psychopathic ex would be sleeping peacefully like a baby, just as he did in the last days, as our marriage crumbled, while I laid awake crying.

I was crying at the thoughts that I spent 14.5 years of my very short life, unselfishly and completely loving someone who was a complete waste of my time and underserving of 0.001% of that love.

Someone who would admit that throughout the years he spent smiling with me, he was seeking a way out from our relationship, with more than 12 illicit email addresses that I had found and several online singles dating profiles.

Marriages end, that perfectly fine. This man has not even left me with any memories to treasure; any thoughts of happy times are tainted with the admission that this evil coward was faking it for 14.5 long years.

I wasted my life with a loser that took 14.5 years to find someone else; when my four year old nephew manages to have two or three girlfriends at any one time.

This loser who by his own admission, only managed to sleep with his married mistress, by popping erectile dysfunction tablets Spedra and Ciallis, which I had found all over the house including the three in his former bedside table, like they were going out of fashion while I put up with 14.5 years of very bad or no sex caused by his impotence, and infertility caused by the lack of sex and his very defective sperm.

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This impotent man who suddenly and arrogantly now sees himself as some sort of lothario because some ugly, desperate, 48 year old married slut, gave him the time of the day.

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I do not wish to make fun of something as serious and devastating as impotence or erectile dysfunction, I loving tried my best to help my ex even though he refused to seek help for this problem. I lovingly and sensitively dealt with these problems, choosing to accept them and to focus on parts of our marriage that I thought worked after all, no marriage is perfect.

But please, don’t swagger and act like some fucking hot Romeo with women falling all over you and fighting over you, when you are anything but. Please.

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If I thought this morning would bring me any good news or allow me the time for the countless tasks that I ought to be doing, in order to attempt to rebuild my shattered life, I was grossly mistaken.

Instead, I have spent all day dealing with more crap, lies and upset from my ex and moping around crying.

The reality is that I can say hands on heart that I do not deserve the wickedness of this evil monster. He and I knew all that went down in our marriage; how he can look at himself in the mirror or sleep at night, I cannot begin to imagine.

Only a psychopath who has completely detached himself from reality will continue to behave like this despicable, wicked, little man.

I remain grateful that the me that would have drowned the sadness and upset of the last week in greasy food is gone forever.

Not this time.

Not ever.