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Sadness Lives Here

The last few weeks have been tough, extremely tough physically, mentally and financially.

The last week and a half have sucked serious lemons.

I had some bad news that brought about the sort of indescribable pain only someone who has been through similar situation can ever understand, and many people in my life haven’t…thankfully for them, as I wouldn’t wish this pain on anyone else, let alone anyone I care about.

As a result, I’ve withdrawn from social activities, ignored messages and phone calls, deactivated my personal Facebook, ditched social media, currently have nearly 2,000 unread messages on WhatsApp, majority of which are from a secondary school class group, and I’ve kind of tried to quieten a lot of life’s noises, as I deal with the grief of my news.

I am also acutely aware that isolation is not good for me, so hopefully, I will be back in the swing of things soon enough.

More than anything, I am physically, emotionally and financially drained but I’m a survivor, I will sort myself out soon enough.

Although the bad news isn’t directly connected with the end of my marriage, there is an indirect connection. And therefore the sadness of all of that have kind of resurfaced.

It didn’t help that when I confided the bad news to a good friend, her reaction was to go on and on and on and on about how she blames my ex for the news, how he wasted the best years of my life and how the shock of her whole life is the fact that my marriage ended when she had never met two people more in love or closer than my ex and I. In the end, I brought that conversation to an end by firmly stating that my ex was in the past and that I didn’t want to talk about him.

One lovely reader wrote on my blog that it will basically take around half the length of a relationship to get over my divorce, in my case, over 7 years. I remember reading that and thinking in defiance that there was no way in hell I would be mourning the loss of my marriage for over 7 years. No way, would I be giving a shit about someone that doesn’t give a shit about me, let alone for that length of time.

Sadly, the cycle of loss and grief are not solved by defiance and determination alone.

They have to run their course.

The fact that I still have moments, even within this past week, when the shock that my marriage ended wash over me anew, is not because I haven’t accepted its end and moved on.

It is just what it is.

I still feel sadness that someone else chose to break a marriage contract that was supposed to last until death. As a realist, I am fine that marriages end, the disgustingly appalling way my ex ended our marriage, the fact that in all things, he put a married woman he had an affair with, and had known for only four months, way above a 14 and a half years relationship, allowed this woman to be so actively involved in the ending of our marriage, including using her sister’s gutter divorce law firm for our bitter divorce battle with all the unnecessary drama of court appearances, is a double stabbing in my heart and back which will take time to heal.

As anyone who reads this blog would know, my ex ‘s big love affair didn’t even last two months after he ended our marriage (by email!) in the belief that he would waltz into the sunset with his lover. This married woman with two children, who had allegedly broken up with him four times during their four months affair, because she wasn’t happy that he was married, whilst remaining married herself, and who had promised him that if he left his wife, she would leave her husband, remains (happily?) married.

My ex and I have not spoken or emailed or had any communication whatsoever since our court proceedings were completed in November 2016.

I have zero intentions of ever contacting this man but if one day, his madness clears and he finally recognises the enormity of the pain his bad behaviour caused and continue to cause, and decides to apologise, he has my email address.

In the meantime, I will leave him to his karma. I hear she’s a bitch.

So many questions will remain forever unanswered and I am OK with it.

For example, finding out that the same week in May 2015, when my ex husband sent me an email entitled “My end game” dated May 4th, from his business trip in Singapore, saying that our marriage had ended and he wasn’t coming back home, a mail written with such bad grammar and weird formatting, it was obviously written by someone like his lover who learnt English as an adult, was the very same week, Mylien, the married woman he had an affair with, completed buying a new house in Woking (May 6th) which she owns jointly with her husband. Buying a massive 4 bedroom, 5 reception, 3 bathroom house, costing £815,000, two days after helping your lover to draft an email to his wife ending his marriage, is not exactly the act of a woman about to run off into the sunset.

Another suspicion is that by the time I discovered this four month affair, my ex may not have known the real name of this married woman who he had met on an internet dating website for single people. He had very easily and earnestly told me her name was Lilly Wong, and used this name in emails, at a time he was allegedly being truthful and confessing everything about the affair. This man is either even more of a dangerous snake of a liar or he completely changed, and I can go as far as to use the word “ruined” his life, for a woman from the internet, whose real name he didn’t even know. I wouldn’t know either of the options to bet on…anything is possible.

And how is my ex forging that new path and soaring those new heights he taunted me with wishing to do without me hampering his progress?

Has his life become so wonderfully amazing without me in it?

Has he found someone to swim in the sea with? Something he had taunted me with.

Does he wake up every morning with the biggest smiles on his face, a sense of purpose, a life well lived and the knowledge that ditching me and our marriage made him the happiest man alive?

Is his life filled with love, joy, music, laughter, sunshine, dinner parties, social interactions with his 14 Facebook friends? You’ve got to admire a man who defiantly stays on Facebook (after losing my family and friends) with 14 Facebook friends majority of whom are people he hasn’t seen in over 20 years. As one of his Facebook friends calls his account…”pathetic”.

Enough of my rambling rant. Hopefully letting it all out here will help ease some of the pain of this week.

Life must continue to move on with my changed circumstances.

I must continue to deal with the fact that the life plans have drastically changed because someone else choose to lie, deceive, betray, ultimately end a marriage with so much unnecessary pain and drama, and be woefully unaware that they behaved badly.

I will continue to work on my life.

I will grieve and get over my bad news and keep moving on.

I will continue to work on choosing to be happy, leaving the past firmly buried in the past and trying my best to forget and rebuild.

I will try and use those lemons to make some lemonade.

I will try. I will, I will.

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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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4

Day 737 – Men Who Kill Their Wives

I haven’t written in a while.

I’m not entirely sure why.

Perhaps because I haven’t felt the need to lay bare all my innermost thoughts.

Perhaps because life has just been ticking on.

I don’t know why.

Today however, I feel compelled to write by the news that the partner of the writer Helen Bailey has been found guilty of her murder. This news has shocked me to the core and it is so very sad that this lady, who thought she had found her happy ending, after the 2011 death of her husband while they were on holiday in Barbados, will be so tragically killed by the widower she had met through her grief, for what seems to be for financial gain.

I read Helen’s story thinking, there but for the grace of God go I…

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Last week, I finally watched a TV drama I had recorded last year, called the Secret.

This is based on the true story of the deeply religious Irish dentist, Colin Howell, who in 1991, together with the married woman he was having an affair with, Hazel Stewart, another church member, conspired to kill both of their spouses, his wife Lesley, and mother of his four children, including a nine month old baby, and Trevor, the father of his lover’s two children, a boy and a girl.

They believed killing their spouses would allow them to live happily ever after.

They were wrong.

Colin and Hazel literally got away with murder as the police and coroners bought into their faked joint suicides for their spouses. Their sordid affair lasted a couple more years, before being ended by his lover. Such was her guilt after the deaths, that they would even have consensual sex with her gassed on his dentist’s chair, so that he could have his way with her, without her being consumed with guilt.

10 years after the murders, this dentist, confessed to his second wife, a mother of two, with whom he went on to have five more children, about the murders. She chose to keep quiet and went on to have four more children with this murderer, to add to the one child they had together at the time.

Nearly 20 years after the murders, Colin voluntarily confessed to the police after believing that God was punishing him following the death of his first son Matt, and being swindled out of around £350,000. He had previously had “signs” that had convinced him that God had forgiven him for the murders.

He had admitted being haunted by his wife calling the name of 5 year old Matt as he strangled her.

He also voluntarily confessed to sexually assaulting several patients while they were under anaesthetics.

He was sentenced to 21 years in prison after pleading guilty to the murders.

But for his confessions, these murders would never have been discovered.

His lover Hazel who pleaded not guilty, was later found guilty of both murders and sentenced to 18 years.

His second wife who had chosen to keep quiet about her murderous husband, escaped prosecution. She moved back to the US, where she was originally from.

Some men kill.

Some men kill their wives. 

Women kill too.

And while I admit that this post might seem like possibly the biggest admission that I have made in this blog, I firmly believe that I could easily have joined the statistics of the many women (and men) who have been killed by their supposedly loving spouses or partners, who found the idea of murder, more palatable than divorce or merely ending a relationship.

As my marriage disintegrated in 2015, my ex husband would make countless comments about killing me.

I was distressed by these comments and he would say he was merely “joking”.

He said on three occasions that it was a shame I was on a diet as he was no longer cooking for me and therefore, could not poison me.

At the last minute, he changed travel plans on our last holiday over Easter 2015 to Milan, supposedly to work on our marriage when unbeknown to me, he was sending his lover £70 flowers and expensive chocolates. He chose to drive to the airport, instead of taking a taxi, and when I queried why, given as we would always take taxis to airports, he referred to a story about a man who had killed his wife by carefully crashing their car, having removed her seatbelt, just beforehand. He insisted he was joking.

His several “jokes” about killing me and how my death would be easier than divorce, were such that before travelling to Milan, I had written a long email to my sister referencing all his comments and the dates they were made, and giving her our travel details, something I had never done before. I wrote that if anything happened to me in Milan, she should hand my email over to the police.

I had felt very unsafe with this man and I was resolved, like I said in that email, that after Milan, I would have to decide whether my marriage was worth saving given all the “jokes” about my death.

The seriousness of my email to my sister was such that she expected me to be checking in with my family frequently, during that trip. On one occasion when she hadn’t heard from me for a few hours, because I was out and about and didn’t have internet or whatsapp access, she had been worried enough to have rung my hotel several times, leaving messages for me to make urgent contact, as well as shared her concerns with another sister.

In Milan, my ex husband would “joke” about pushing me from the top of the Duomo Cathedral. He refused to climb to the top on his own, when I was unable to explore with him which was unusual as he wouldn’t normally object to exploring on his own.

Perhaps more telling was the one night in Milan, when I was violently sick all night, throwing up and with serious diarrhoea, while my ex husband slept very peacefully beside me. This happened the only time I had eaten or drunk anything bought solely by my ex in my absence. That night, he had brought some latte back to the hotel for both of us and yet, I was the only one who had been so violently ill.

I have no doubt whatsoever that my ex had tried to poison me on that day.

As our marriage crumbled during that holiday, my ex insisted on taking me out shopping, going from street to street, all very carefully mapped out by him.

It was a most bizarre day when he insisted on buying anything I as much as looked at. Several handbags including an expensive Prada bag, several sandals and shoes including Jimmy Choo shoes, expensive Jo Malone perfumes, expensive Acqua di Parma toiletries and all sorts of unneeded vulgar spending.

I have no doubt whatsoever as I took photos of the ridiculous shopping bags through my tears, that these were my ex’s defence of how could I have killed my wife? I love my wife. Can’t you see all the things that I bought her?

Four days after our return from Milan, on a Sunday, my ex insisted that Sunday morning on visiting the seaside, instead of a hike he had planned. He “joked” several times about pushing me from the pier into the sea to drown given that I can’t really swim.

After he left our former home, I would find a knife inside my ex husband’s drawer on his side of the beside table, of the bed we slept together.

When I asked him what a knife was doing inside his bedside table, and sent him a picture of the knife, he lied and insisted that he had never had a knife in the drawer that he used exclusively at the time.

This is a long post with all sorts of serious comments but my aim isn’t to depress myself and all my readers.

I describe my ex husband as “evil”. That ugly word is not a word I use lightly.

I do not believe that this man has always been “evil”.

I still believe that he went through and might still be going through, some sort of mental breakdown.

But the person who I strongly believed wanted to kill me and who did all the heartbreaking things during our divorce is an “evil” man capable of anything, including cold blooded murder.

I am not without blame as I should have gotten him out of my life the very first time he “joked” about killing me, let alone the countless references and the seemingly well thought out scenariors he painted, as to how he might have killed me.

I should have reported his comments immediately to the police.

I should have immediately gone to the police and been tested on return to the UK or even in Milan, on the night I firmly believe he tried to poison me.

But to be fair to myself, at the time, I was not aware of the lengths this man could go through, or just how evil, he truly is/was.

When I read these stories of men and women, who haven’t survived being murdered by their nearest, closest and most trusted spouses, I thank God that I came out of my marriage with my life.

I thank God that my mum and siblings do not have to spend their lives mourning me and wondering whether my death was really an accident, as described, or murder.

I thank God for the gift of life.

May Helen and all the men and women like her, murdered by their spouses and partners, rest in perfect peace.

This is still a diet blog, and as such, I should really write about my diet.

This year has been full of ups and downs on the diet front but right now, I am on it. I’m not stressing about the fact that I wasn’t on it last week.

I fail, I restart and I keep going.

2

Day 355: Week 51 Weigh-In – Moving On for Dummies

Life has a funny way of teaching us lessons.

Sometimes the lessons are subtle, blink and you miss it, other times, it is an all singing, all dancing, hip swaying, rainbow coloured flag waving, finger pointing, in your face life lesson.

I have had one of those in your face lessons: why it’s best to keep moving on.

I have always been the sort of person that if someone important to me does something that annoys me, instead of carrying a grudge, I would rather tell them my mind and then very quickly get over it.

But I guess usual rules do not apply to marriage break-ups from hell, especially when the other person has continued to behave badly and there is no relationship or any association whatsoever to salvage.

So this week’s life’s lesson is to keep moving on…

While you’re crying over the end of a relationship or carrying a grudge, the other guy is out dancing.

In my case, quite literally.

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So about that life lesson in moving on….

At the end of May 2015, I was in a seriously scary, dark place. It had only been a couple of weeks since my  husband sent an email from a business trip in Singapore, ending our 11 years marriage and 14.5 years relationship, telling me he would not be coming home. It was not about the woman he had an affair with, he wants to “forge ahead alone.”

My mental health had crumbled at the devastation caused by the unexpected end of my marriage, my ex’s betrayal and his despicable behaviour. I had been so blissfully happy in my life with an ex, who had pretended to feel the same, while using online dating websites and seeking a way out, throughout our relationship.

I didn’t see the end of my marriage coming in a billion years.

Documenting my year, with this blog, my paper diary, photographs and videos I take of myself, May is littered with lots of extremely dark thoughts, pictures and videos of me crying my eyes out.

(Self portraits and self videos? WTF. I know, I know!)

I remember writing this blog post after I had literally spent the whole of the May bank holiday, crying.

That weekend, my ex had moved to Weybridge, 5 minutes away from Mylien, his 49 year old married mother of two, Vietnamese mistress, who he had met on a singles dating website.

At one point that long May weekend, I thought that if not for the fact that it would literally kill my mother and my sisters if anything happened to me, there was nothing to live for.

I couldn’t see any light at the end of the very dark tunnel.

I had lost the love of my life. The ying to my yang. My true soulmate. My only soulmate. My other half. My missing link. The only man I had ever wanted to father my future children (I recoil at that last one as my future children do not deserve a psychopath for a father.) The only man that had ever completed me. The only man that I had ever truly, completely and unconditionally loved, without reservation.

Blah blah blah.

Cry me a river.

That weekend, my ex’s sister had called me, telling me how she had asked her brother 3 times whether his affair had ended and he had sworn it had ended. She told me her brother regretted the email he sent from Singapore saying he wasn’t coming back home. She said he had never told either her or his mother that our marriage had ended. She wanted me to be strong as she thought her brother had gone crazy because she knew how much he loved me and how much he was devoted to me, echoing the same comments my mother-in-law had made that same weekend. She believed him when he said the affair had ended. She would understand that I might not take him back but he didn’t want to end our marriage.

She was messing with my head.

So my life lesson is this…

In my darkness, all that sadness, crying, heartbreak, devastation, thinking my world had ended, soon to be ex mother-in-law and sister-in-law telling me my ex had sworn that the affair had ended, guess what my soon to be ex husband was doing?

That half term that started with May bank holiday, he was on a holiday in Butlins Minehead, Somerset, with Mylien, his married mistress, her two children and her friends. He had driven over 3 hours from Weybridge to holiday in Somerset.

While I was crying and wondering whether my life was worth living, my ex was busy playing happy families with someone else’s wife and someone else’s children, eating ice cream, enjoying playground rides, continuing to lie to his mother and only sibling that the affair had ended and having a jolly good time.

Isn’t it funny how life teaches you a lesson?

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Oh and to quote one of his “best friends”:

“I don’t mean to be personal, but you are a gorgeous woman. I could never understand the two of you together but it seemed to work and I had never met two people so much in love. You will be fine. Why would anyone want an affair with him? The only thing going for him is that he’s occasionally funny, in a weird way, and he earns a lot of money. Seriously, why on earth would anyone want to have an affair with him?”

Yes, I’m moving the fuck on, as difficult as it is in an extremely stressful week where I have literally spent every single day and countless hours dealing with divorce crap.

But this too will pass and I just can’t wait until the finances and divorce are settled and I never have to waste any energy whatsoever on this SOB.

Week Fifty one’s Verdict: today’s weight 87.9 kg, week’s weight loss 0 kg (0 pounds); total weight loss;  36.5 kg; 80.3 pounds; 5 stones 10 pounds

 

8

Day 247 – The Cycle of Grief Overwhelms Me

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

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

What total bollocks.

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

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

Shit happens.

Marriages end. That’s fine.

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

I am so very angry at this man.

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

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

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

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

Thanks Mylien for finally confirming your identity with that call.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I do not want to cry myself to sleep.

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

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

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

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

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

5

Day 93: A Mother’s Love

My husband and I spent nine months re-building every aspect of the home where we lived for 11 years. This massive project was only finally signed off this January. Showing friends and family round this beautiful home was his pride and joy. He had perfected his tour guide. Even the week before I had discovered his affair, he was excitedly showing some friends round, lapping up all the compliments and when he did the tours alone, he would excitedly report the compliments received back to me.

In the weeks he tortured me with his affair, he would taunt me by saying several times: “It’s only a house.”

It’s not only a house, it is my home or at least it used to be my much loved, much happy home.

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I had managed every single aspect of this build. I had designed every aspect of the build; bathrooms, bedrooms, wardrobes, bookshelves, etc.

I had meticulously and lovingly sourced and chosen every single new purchase in the house, from bathroom tiles to vintage chaise longue in the bathrooms, cushions, sofas, paintings, absolutely everything.

I had worked with the builders from hell who nearly broke me because the supposedly trusted company we very meticulously chose after interviewing over 12 builders, ended up being dodgy cowboys of unimaginable proportion, with a fancy name. Every thing that could possibly go wrong went wrong, plus more.

It was a physically and mentally draining project. I was completely exhausted. I did all that for absolutely nothing.

It was an intense labour of love because I was building a beautiful home for my husband and I to live happily for a long time. I often said to him and my family that we were creating space to allow us to fill this house with kids. I always believed that the plans we had for next year would finally end 11 years of childlessness.

While I was busy managing an impossible project and builders from hell, my husband was busy chatting with countless women online and having an affair with a married Vietnamese mother of two whose name rhymes with silly and wrong. How appropriate.

We had so many plans for this place. We have music in almost every space and talked about wonderful parties we would host; in my pre-separation days, I was legendary for hosting fantastic parties. In one of our post adultery chats, I suggested having a big party in August for his birthday/house warming. He replied, let’s have two parties, one when the weather got warmer and one for his birthday.

Being alone in this house, which is filled with 11 years of memories, was never the life plan.

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This evening, I found myself saying out loud to myself, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck as the shock hits me like it does on a daily basis that my marriage is over.

As I am stunned by the shock and it all hurts anew, my phone started ringing. It was my mum wanting to say goodnight before going to sleep.

She couldn’t have timed that call better.

This week, my mother who is my heroine sent me two messages. I thought I had managed to fake the fact that I was upset when I spoke to her. She lives abroad and asked whether I wanted her to drop everything (including my 5 year old nephew in her care) to come and look after me for some time.

Her second message said:

“I have a compelling need to send you this message. You were crying when we were talking earlier this evening. Don’t bottle up your tears. Anytime you feel like crying, put on some music to drown the noise, then have a good, loud wail for at least 5 minutes. IT HELPS a lot.

Gradually, your heart will feel lighter. Gradually, the burden will lift. Supported by prayers, the darkness will clear sooner than you think. I am haunted 24/7 imagining what you are going through, alone in a beautiful house that should be giving you joy and marital contentment.

I feel your pain. I understand your pain. I have been there. [X} is worse than dead. He is a living dead. The man you loved is worse than dead! I still pray for him.

You are not a loser & will NEVER be. First class honours, Distinction, 50 Women to watch- all in extremely difficult circumstances!

Our Redeemer liveth! [X] is too insignificant to pull down what God has established. Call me anytime you feel low & tell me when I can call you.

Goodnight, my love & may God’s peace be with you.”

My heart goes out to everyone who has lost their mother because nothing compares to a mother’s love.

Although my mum doesn’t even know this blog exists, I just want to say I love you mummy, much more than I can ever express.

mother's love

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?

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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.