My Secret Not-So-Sunday…

I never cared about death, about dying. In fact in a fashion I almost looked forward to it, without being suicidal.

Recently I realised that I will be alone and lonely and the last of all to go, should things pan out the way it’s expected. My olds will die, my siblings will die. I will be alone and lonely, with no partner, no children, nothing but a houseful of cats.

Though I prefer dogs, old lonely ladies seem to end up with cats.

Now I’m terrified of being that person.

What is more important?

What’s more important… your dignity and pride, or money?

This is a question I would never have asked myself until recently. Until I started on a massive project that ate all my savings.

I used to have a job… and the boss just up and stopped calling me in. I never knew why. Much later I find out that I evidently overstepped some imaginary, unspecified line. So I will not be called back in.

What I find super dissapointing is that I wasn’t ever notified of my failings, just swept aside.

Instead of blaming the student… perhaps the teacher needs to review themself?

This brings me to my original question: what is more important?

For 99.9% of my life I would’ve said pride and dignity every day of the week. I am a very proud person. I will be damned if I will allow others to treat me poorly, when I have grown up being such a doormat to my own family. And yet a little part of me would go back to work for this person, simply because nearly all my savings are gone, the project is yet to be finished and I am currently out of work with no promising signs on the horizon.

I have a feeling that this is part of being a grown up. And that sucks.

Post Secret

I like a website called Post Secret quite a lot. I check it every Sunday and almost without fail, find a secret of mine – sometimes one I didn’t even realise I had – on there, each and every week.

However I’ve never had one on there. I once posted one, but it was never published. Understandable, as Frank must get buttloads. But this fact, plus living in a small country town where the post office manager has a big mouth and is nosy, I’ve never sent any more.

Here’s my secret for today.

Nearly ever night, after eating a big meal I walk around outside in the dark and let my belly poke out and pretend I’m pregnant.

I don’t know if this is my dramatic side erupting, or it is some secret indication that I privately covet a baby…

Nature is Lifes Best Teacher.

Spring is the funniest time of year. Not ha ha funny, but just… thought-provoking, for me.

I spend a lot of time outside, where I can, at the best of times. Spring makes this easier, after the worst of the rain and cold and before the heat and risks that come with that. Standing outside right now, with the panoramic view around me, it just makes my brain rattle.

The thing with nature… it doesn’t care. It doesn’t care about anxiety, or death, or pain or hurt or fear. Equally, it doesn’t care about confidence, or birth, or happiness or acceptance or pleasure.

I love nature. I consider myself a nature child; happiest when outdoors, working under the sun, standing in the rain, bushwalking, photographing nature – you get the idea. So right now I’m really trying hard to absorb some of Mother Natures finest offerings – peace.

I want to lean into the inclement weather and know that after the shitstorm, there will again be warmth and sun. I want to sit back and let everything wash over me. I want to know that no matter what… it will bloom again.

The bees are buzzing, one of the most important hunter gatherers. Flowers are filling the air with their radiant perfume, leaves have unfurled, fruit flowers have blossomed, been pollinated and are now starting anew as tiny little potentials. The vegetable seeds have woken from dormancy, grown up tall and strong and are now starting on their final journey to adulthood. Life is simply progressing in the most beautiful fashion.

Right now, my life has stalled. I need to take a leaf from Nature’s book and learn to bloom again.

Strength to grow and radiate: so much harder to do than it should be.

You just don’t know what you’re capable of…

Until you’re in the situation. Or so I have discovered in the course of my turbulent life.

Ask me five years ago and I’ve have sworn black and blue to you that I would NEVER EVER be ‘the other woman’. I could never respect a man who put anyone in that situation, and I couldn’t do that to another female. He would be nothing but a rock ape in my eyes, a sleaze, a player, a sad and pathetic excuse for a male. And any woman who knowingly went with a man who is in a relationship would have no respect of mine, and I would look down upon her.

And now?

I still feel that those things are largely true. I am not ‘the other woman’. I am not in a relationship with a man who is previously promised to another.

However now I find myself looking for loopholes… Ok he’s married but he’s unhappy. She is such a bitch to him, she’s just about driven him to this. I had a relationship with him prior to them even meeting. He never stopped having strong feelings for me. I’ve taken all the cliches barring “We’re meant to be together” (we’re not).

In a different world where I was more ‘normal’, yeah I think I would’ve wanted a relationship with him – but in a different world I think I would’ve remained with him the first time and this would all be moot. In this world, it just isn’t realistic. This isn’t stopping him from pushing his luck, and leaving me feeling very unsure in the mean time. I am a mental mistress – I have not and will not crossed that line. However in my mind? He has me rethinking everything, and wondering where everything stands. I feel mixed up. I feel like I’m obsessing over what was, what could’ve been, and what is appropriate now. (I know the answer to that last one. And it’s “what he was doing six months ago, not what he’s doing now.)

This doesn’t stop me wondering ‘what if?’

This doesn’t stop the way he makes me feel.

This doesn’t stop how much I enjoy the attention.

This doesn’t mean I will be that other woman…. but by god, I am starting to understand how some could.

It goes to show you never can tell.

Blargh.

Everything just feels so weird. I feel out of place. I feel like I’m questioning everything.

I feel hollow, empty and redundant.

I feel used, weak and irrelevant.

The only person I mean anything to, is married and even now I have no idea what I actually ‘mean’. I suspect I represent freedom and choice, not anything else.

I hate November.