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…

there-goes-i

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.

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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.

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.

grudge

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?

grudge 2

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

 

2

Day 291 – Grumpy and Knackered

This week has been non-stop filled with crap. Last week too. I am so tired I could cry. And I did. A lot and a lot and a lot and some more.

One day, my life will be so full of joy and happiness that I am going to look back at this year and see it as a totally insignificant blip and a very very very lucky escape from a wholly forgettable being.

I promise.

Christmas? That deserves a post all by itself. I haven’t bought a single thing. I don’t want to think about it just yet. A few more days please. Pretty please but I promise I will embrace that joy oh joy. And it shall be fun, fun, fun.

I promise…maybe.

While am at it, how long is it going to take to get this bloody decree nisi?

I don’t even want to think of this person let alone having to keep uttering and spelling his double barrelled name, the first of which, no one else has ever heard of and I always have to spell several times.

God, I just can’t wait to erase from all my documents and revert fully to my maiden name.

In other news, yesterday, I could have killed for a takeaway. 

Same as the day before and today if I’m honest. Nothing hideous, I fancy some healthy Japanese but I will resist as it will definitely spike a weight gain.

Instead, I’ll make myself some boiled eggs and cucumber salad.

Oh and I might treat myself to another diet coke. I’ve lost count of how many of that poisonous crap I have consumed this week to get the caffeine kick.

I’ve also discovered the kick of an espresso.

Rock and Roll..

Pop a happy pill already. You know you want to.

happy-pills-1

 

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 265: Week 38 Weigh-In – Heal Thyself

This has been a week of ups and downs on the life front but on the diet front, I have stayed firmly in my zone. The week’s weight loss is recorded below.

I am not going to stop this diet until I hit a healthy weight.

I may stumble and fall, but I will get there some day.

As life continues to present challenges, I surround myself with words that encourage me to believe that I will not only survive this horrendous period of my life but I shall thrive.

I am a survivor and not a victim.

My life will be filled with joy, happiness and fulfilment and not strive, anger, bitterness and negativity.

I will at least keep trying my best.

So here are some of the little notes I leave for myself on the kitchen Island.

A little bit of self-love and self-healing. Not in a narcissistic way…hopefully.

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2015-11-05 11.59.09

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2015-11-05 11.59.54

2015-11-05 12.06.16

2015-11-05 12.07.45

Week Thirty Eight’s Verdict: today’s weight 88.2 kg, week’s weight loss 0.7 kg (1.54 pounds); total weight loss; 36.2 kg; 79.6 pounds; 5 stones 9.8 pounds

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