10

Day 476: 12th Wedding Anniversary -Dark Cloud of Pain

Update: Wednesday 8th June, 2016 – I have been debating whether I should delete the post below because I most definitely do not have those thoughts and it’s only been three days.

The dark clouds have definitely shifted.

For now, the post stays as a reminder to me of what darkness looks like.

However, I promise myself and my loved ones that if I ever feel remotely like I did on Sunday, I will pick up the phone and call my mum or any of my wonderful three sisters who love me very much and who I love more than the world itself, or call any of my close friends.

If anyone stumbles upon this post on a dark day, please trust me when I say that the dark cloud will shift and there will be sunshine.

Please call a family member, a friend, the Samaritan free from any UK mobile 116 123 or send me an email with your phone number and I will call you back, wherever you might be in the world – I have Skype and WhatsApp and can call none UK numbers.

I don’t feel like the post below means that I have lost all the progress I have made as a person since my marriage ended. On the contrary, it has inspired me to be that person that carries on, stays positive, who is a survivor and not a victim, and who keeps looking forward.

I might have taken 50 steps backwards on Sunday, but right now, from where I was that day, I have taken 60 steps forward. I have made progress.

Rainbow_1574

Double rainbow forming on the western outskirts of Innerleithen, Scottish Borders

 

WARNING: This post is dark and talks of suicidal thoughts. It may cause upset.

Today is 12 year since the day I married my husband – I call him my husband because we are not yet divorced.

Today is also exactly a year to the day since my husband sent me the anniversary present of getting the lawyer in the same divorce law firm as the sister of the married woman he had an affair with, to write me asking for divorce.

Two years ago, we were celebrating our 10th wedding anniversary, having returned to the same wonderful hotel in Mauritius where we spent our honeymoon.

Today, my husband changed his Facebook profile picture to a picture of himself smiling by the sea.

Today, something else happened to remind me of my so called empty life; 40s, discarded, unwanted, undesirable, used goods. I do not want to talk about this other event.

Today has been a fucking miserable day.

This evening, I had a pizza, two cans of diet coke, chicken wings, garlic pizza bread and half a tub of ice cream. I didn’t have breakfast or lunch. I had pizza and it was good.

I feel so fucking depressed it is unreal.

I am currently sitting on my sofa sobbing my eyes out.

Earlier, as I sat here looking at my wedding photos, I know I shouldn’t do so but what the hell, when you’re down, out and on a pity party, you might as well keep going and depress the fuck out of yourself.

My wedding 12 years ago was a totally awesome wedding. It was so full of fun, joy, music, dances, different, my husband and I smiled like we were the king of the world. We were drunk with happiness, happy as anything I’ve ever been, laughing and smiling broadly all day.

For several years, friends would say how much fun our wedding was.

To be clear, I have accepted the end of my marriage, that much I am certain of.

Earlier today, as I sat at this sofa, I thought about going upstairs, taking a handful of the anti depressants, anti psychotic pills, strong sleeping pills, strong painkillers codeine etc. by my bedside.

I imagined going upstairs to my bedroom, setting out my will, writing letters to my family and just how peaceful it would be to swallow as many of those pills as I can, keep swallowing them and falling into a very deep sleep from which there would be no waking up.

No more emotional or physical pain. Just peace and quiet.

I imagined the peace of never having to experience the back pain that sometimes completely cripples me – I am wearing a TENS machine set to the highest level as I write this; that highest level is insufficient for my pain. TENS machine is given to women experiencing the pain of child birth. I live with that level of pain on a daily basis.

I imagined the peace of never ever having to deal with the prospect of going to court next month and having to face seeing my evil, psychopathic ex who continues his life completely oblivious to just how evil, unfeeling and inhuman he has been.

I imagined the peace of never having to deal with lawyers in the mess my husband has made of trying to end his marriage, one year later, this evil, wicked, heartless man still has all of this hanging over me like an unending nightmare that just won’t go away.

I imagined the peace of never having to think of the pain and betrayal my husband continues to cause me.

I imagined the peace of never having to deal with the fact that my life as I know it is empty and bleak.

I imagined the peace of never having to deal with the fact that I am destined to spend the rest of my life alone. Please do not write to tell me that one day, I will meet a man who will love me for me. I am realistic about the prospects of that ever happening; it won’t, that’s just my reality. Having spent 14.5 years with a man that would look at me with eyes full of love, I will never ever submit to any such fallacy called love that will end in monstrous pain.

As the urge to take those pills magnified, I thought of my mother.

On Friday, one of my closest friends had spent the night with her two children. On Saturday as we had some heart to heart, I told her about my mother and how much loss that woman had endured in her life. I told her how my neurosis probably started because when my mother was pregnant with me, she had been so convinced she would die in pregnancy or giving birth, that she had written letters, prepared her affairs and asked her best friend to marry my father when she dies and to look after my two elder sister.

My mother’s premonition were not completely unfounded. Her mother had died the year before I was born. Her closest sibling, her handsome brother had died, in his twenties, the year I was born. Her father had died the year after I was born and my beloved father would die in a plane crash, 10 years after I was born.

Four years ago, my mother was crushed by the death of my 24 year old sister-in-law who died giving birth to my brother’s son. The little boy died too. She left my 6 years old nephew who my mum now looks after. Last year, my mother lost her closest remaining sibling, an elder sister who she adored.

As I contemplated, ended it all, I thought of my mother. She had tried to call me this morning telling me that she knew what day it was and hoped that I was alright.

She called me again as I sat pondering whether to end it all, I initially ignored the call but when I saw her face with her WhatsApp photo, I finally tried to answer but the connection was poor and I didn’t call her back. My mother lives abroad.

I started Googling and reading pages about how parents and siblings deal with the suicide of a loved one. Given everything my poor mother has endured in one lifetime, do I really want to deal her with yet another cruel hand? Would she survive my death? Do I want to be ultimately responsible to my mother’s demise?

I read about how suicide tears a family apart like a hand grenade dropped in the middle of a room. The closest to the grenade suffer forever. Do I want to drop a bomb to the family that I love so much?

I think of the close friend who had spent Friday night with her two children one of whom is my God daughter. She had lost a friend in January who had died sitting on his bed, with his laptop open, on a Saturday afternoon. He was only 39 years old and with his whole bright life ahead of him. The conclusion was sudden adult death syndrome. His death had devastated my friend and she still hasn’t recovered from it. She would have to deal with yet another friend dying unexpectedly and explain to her little ones that the “auntie” they had only hugged and kissed just yesterday had died.

This friend calls me twice, sends several messages, I ignore her calls and messages. I will call her tomorrow.

I thought of my siblings explaining to my nephews and nieces that I had died. I wondered if they would tell them that I also killed myself.

I read this poem on a random blog talking about mothers and their children’s suicide. I sob like a baby as I read this because this could be my mother.

My Mom is a survivor,
Or so I’ve heard it said.
But I can hear her crying at night
When all others are in bed.
I watch her lay awake at night
and go to hold her hand.
She doesn’t know I’m with her
to help her understand.
But like the sands on the beach
That never washes away…
I watch over my surviving mom,
Who thinks of me each day.
She wears a smile for others…
A smile of disguise!
But through Heaven’s door I see
Tears flowing from her eyes.
My mom tries to cope with death
To keep my memory alive.
But anyone who knows her knows
It is her way to survive.
As I watch over my surviving mom
Through Heaven’s open door…
I try to tell her those angels
Protect me forever more.
I know that doesn’t help her…
Or ease the burden she bears.
So if you get a chance, go visit her…
And show her that you care.
For no matter what she says…
No matter what she feels.
My surviving mom has a broken heart
That time won’t ever heal.

Sunday 5th June, 2016 will pass and I will still be here.

Before you write and tell me to seek medical help, I know. I do not usually have suicidal thoughts, it was a tough day, in a tough period.

Realistically, I am not overly confident seeking help will do anything other than give me more pills when I have more than enough.

Tomorrow is another day. I do not know whether the dark cloud would have passed. I can only take it one day at a time.

Tomorrow, I will try and eat well, stay on my diet, exercise a little in the fresh air, if it will help, and take it one day at a time.

I have a busy few weeks coming up with divorce crap and court in July.

I completely accept the end of my marriage. However, the evil, wickedness and despicable acts of this serpent I married, the pain and damages that he has caused me, I will never comprehend, nor is his behaviour comprehensible to any half decent human being.

Please don’t write to tell me to move on. It is impossible to move on when there has been no movement whatsoever in resolving our affairs and ending our marriage, in the year since my husband decided he wanted a divorce because my husband has refused to settle or make a counter offer to the offer of settlement I made him in September 2015, a few weeks after he ended mediation to settle our financial affairs because he would not accept the mediators telling him he was legally and morally wrong.

A year on, I still do not even know whether I will lose my beloved home where I have lived for over 12 years.

A year on, there is still no privacy because the court requires this man to see all my bank and credit card statements and vice versa.

A year on, there is no moving on from this nightmare.

One day at a time is all I can pledge.

6

Day 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.

 

1

Day 394: I’m Still Standing

I haven’t written on this diary for ages.

Thank you to those of you who have been in touch asking for news and to all those who keep reading my diary.

Life got extremely busy.

I had some crap to deal with but it’s done and I’m good and I have moved on.

I am still very much on my diet. Today, I went out for a lunch. Standing in the mirror looking at myself before I went out, it struck me that standing, I no longer look fat, let alone obese.

Naked or seated, is another matter.

I continue to fight the jinx that means that I get to 86 point something kg, and don’t seem to lose any more weight.

This is a battle I intend to win this time.

I bloody hope so.

war

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 330 – One Day at a Time…

Assuming it doesn’t snow and I find myself snowed in and incapacitated, in just over a week, I will find myself in a court of law fighting over finances with my ex who unfortunately remains my husband because even though he filed for divorce in June, I haven’t even been granted a decree nisi, let alone a decree absolute which will only happen after our finances are settled, however long that takes.

Following my discovery of my ex’s affair, sitting in the kitchen side by side, I told him that whatever happened in our marriage, whether it survived or not, we must be sensible and commercial, sit down like we were and sort out our finances. We both agreed that it would be stupid and senseless to go to court because the only winners would be lawyers and their fees.

I remain willing to settle my financial affairs out of court but it takes two to tango and I’m resigned to going to court for as long as it takes.

It is a sad state of affairs that my ex and I only communicate through lawyers; I have done my best to settle out of court.

I initiated financial mediation which my ex ended. I initiated an out of court offer for settlement which my ex rejected and refused to make a counteroffer.

Instead of a counteroffer, I got shit back like the knife this man has struck into my back isn’t deep enough; he needs to pull it deeper, twist the knife round and round, and find new and innovative ways to hurt me.

I still have absolutely no idea whatsoever how this man thinks our financial affairs ought to be settled because he has never said. Not for one single day.

But of course when you are stupid enough to invite other people with all sorts of ulterior motives into your marriage and into its dissolutions, you get to where I find myself; an ex who for whatever reasons best known only to him and the idiotic people he’s allowed into his life, think the best bet is to surrender the dissolution of our affairs to a court of law from which there would be no winners other than the lawyers’ coffers.

Everyday, I find new things that tell me that the person I loved for 14.5 years is long dead and in his place, is a complete stranger who has invaded his body.

Who is this person that has ignored a court mandated deadline given as far back as October? The man I loved was a sensible law abiding person who respected processes.

This arrogant piece of shit that ignores court mandated deadlines and instructs a gutter, dirty lawyer who doesn’t even have the professional courtesy to inform the other side’s lawyer of delays in meeting court deadlines, is a scumbag low life.

This person is a complete stranger to me and most definitely not the kind of company I would keep; and thankfully I don’t.

Yesterday, a friend told me how she and her ex sorted out their divorce settlement, getting a judge to rubber-stamp their agreement with praises from the judge; I envied her amicable divorce.

But things are what they are and I have no choice but to accept them and get on with it as best as I can.

This like any bad period of one’s life is only a phase; it will not last forever. It will last for as long as it lasts but not forever.

bruises

I’m staying on the diet…just.

My head even as I write this, is filled with thoughts of food and the comfort food brings but this is how I got to where I am, so I must try my best to resist. I felt proud of myself yesterday making endless coffees with biscuits, chocolates and crisps for my friend and chomping on my Cambridge bar.

My head was filled afterwards with thoughts of the yummy crisps I had served her, it still is; a little wouldn’t hurt but I know I wouldn’t stop at a little, I would eat the whole packet and hence prolong the vicious cycle of obesity.

temptation

One day at a time sweet Jesus.

2

Day 293: Week 42 Weigh-in – We need to talk about Christmas

This has been an extremely hard week.

Divorce sucks like nothing has ever sucked but I know this is only a phase which will pass.

The last couple of weeks have been spent completing the nightmare Form E and gathering countless documents in readiness for court imposed deadline.

Every bone in my body is shattered. My back aches. My legs ache. My hips ache. My emotions are totally drained.

On Wednesday, I had therapy. I was in good form, full of positive talk for the future. We made diary plans to ensure I have some psychological support from her to see me through the first financial court hearing in January. I have a wonderful therapist who I have been seeing since June. She has been exceptional in getting our sessions extended several times and now trying to make sure I continue to have ongoing psychological support through the stresses of court hearings next year.

Only 10% of divorce cases go through a third and final court trial where a judge imposes a final judgment. My ex is crazy, totally unreasonable and a zombie being controlled by repugnant idiots. I am resigned I will be one of the unlucky 10%.

Our divorce will probably make his mistress’ sister a partner in her divorce law firm for the generous business from my ex. A fool and his money…

Yesterday, I had a follow-up with a consultant psychiatrist. The mental torture of the end of my marriage and my ex’s repulsive behaviour (if you’re new to my blog, see my About Me section), had resulted in a breakdown. I am not ashamed to seek help or to admit that I have been on medication since then.

The consultant was extremely nice and sympathetic. She talked about the unfairness of my situation. She will update my GP accordingly. The nicer she was to me, the more I cried and cried and cried and cried.

I thought I was done crying.

In addition to the pills I was given earlier in the year, she tells me my mood is still low, that I’m depressed. She wants me on more medication than I’m already taking. She prescribes some anti-depressants that will increase the happy hormones serotonin, supress adrenalin, help me sleep better…

Mental health issues are difficult to discuss.

I think there is something about anti-depressants that gets to people. My mother had a major panic when I told her about the doctor’s visit. She immediately writes:

“Please don’t ever give in to depression. Anger, yes. Occasional sadness, yes. But depression. Please reject it in the name of all that is good.”

I admonished myself for worrying her, as if she hasn’t got enough worries.

One of my best friends responds:

“No, we just need to get you out having fun. You don’t need to take any of that shit.”

She invites me to another girlie night I had already declined and she is now planning for the girls to descend to mine in January.

If the mountain won’t come to Muhammed…

I ask my sweet sister, who  has been a rock about the specific medication. She’s a medical doctor. She calmly says:

“It’s okay. You could try it as people react in different ways. Everything will be alright my sister.”

I think if I’m honest with myself, the doctor is right about the anti-depressants and I hope they will help. I am more concerned that one of the side effects include weight gain but she had reassured me that it only increases appetite and if I don’t eat more, I won’t gain weight.

So in all of that drama, there is Christmas to think about. I still haven’t bought a single present.

In my pre-divorce life, Christmas was my absolute favourite holiday. This year, it fills me with dread.

I don’t want to think about 15 Christmases where my ex would overwhelm me with Christmas gifts like the picture below from last year.

He was certainly very generous when we were together. It’s a shame now he thinks it is entirely fine to pay me £0, while he keeps his City banker income all to himself.

2014-12-25 10.10.20

I don’t want to remember that last Christmas, I somehow managed to get 11 people to sit down in my home for Christmas lunch.

There were 6 people in my house last Christmas, who have been me for 15 Christmases and who I will most likely never see again in my entire life, except of course the ex, who I will be seeing in court hearings next year.

It is a very sad way to end a marriage.

2014-12-25 10.15.38

No, I don’t want to think about last Christmas.

But I really should think about this Christmas because this year, there will be three innocent kids in my home who haven’t done anything wrong.

There will be three young kids who will come with excitement to see their “fun auntie” and by God, I will do whatever it takes to make sure that she is still out there.

I owe it to them to make this the best Christmas I can muster.

It is not their fault that the shit hit the fan and it is unfair for them to think that life doesn’t move on and stay fun.

I promise myself that I will do whatever it takes, put on my big girls’ pants, suck it up like a fucking pro, fake it until I make it, to put on a happy show.

There will certainly be 99 times less presents this Christmas compared to Christmases past, (especially for me) but I make a silent promise to those kids there will be joy, laughter and lots of fun in my home this Christmas.

You know what, it’s not just about the kids; I owe it to myself and moving on to make it a brilliant Christmas.

a little girl

Week Forty Two’s Verdict: today’s weight 88.8 kg, week’s weight loss 0.8 kg (1.17 pounds); total weight loss; 35.6 kg; 78.3 pounds; 5 stones 8.5 pounds

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.

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