Broken Bella Donna











{April 23, 2015}  

So.

I’m feeling… not anger, not hatred, but some resentment towards PP these days. Perhaps I’m finally wising up to what everyone else has been saying. Finally seeing without the rose coloured glasses. Finally learning from this lesson.

He treats me terribly. I knew that always, but was willing to overlook it to a point because I valued the friendship so much. But honestly, you have to draw a line somewhere and I think I’m about ready to draw it (until next time he sucks me in to his crazy swirling atmosphere, anyway).

He expects me to just put up with him coming on hard and fast and then withdrawing. He seems to think this is behaviour that I will put up with, I suppose because I have for the last few years. He seems to think that explaining it away as him feeling guilt and having to withdraw is acceptable (it is) but then repeating this behaviour over and over again seems to also be acceptable (it is not). He knows and understands his mistakes and yet continues to make them – so do I. Can’t blame him there.

But the bit that has pissed me off? Is not this continual abuse of  my friendship. It’s not the mixed emotions he keeps throwing my way. It isn’t even how he treats me almost like a booty call and then ignores me when it doesn’t suit him.

It’s the callous and cold way he treats me when he thinks he’s explaining himself, when all he’s doing is pushing me away, trying to make me cut the cord he can’t entirely sever.

It’s the fact that last time we spoke, he essentially accused me of being the problem.

It’s the fact he relegated me back to the pack, back to everyone else who means little to him, who represents little in his life.

That he told me not to message him every time I see him online, that if I don’t perhaps he might see my name and think “Hey we haven’t spoken for awhile” and want to catch up. Like I’m a pest and a nuisance. Like I’m a chore, a blight on his day. He even ended the conversation with a comment about how the conversation we just HAD was basically the reason he doesn’t talk to me much, because they always end up so long winded and deep and it makes him tired and he doesn’t have the time. SORRY. I’m sorry that the only time you have to talk to me you want to act inappropriately when I’m trying to have grown up conversations. I’m SORRY that if the conversations aren’t inappropriate you basically don’t want to have them.

WAIT. I’M NOT FUCKING SORRY ANYMORE.

I need to concentrate on behaving in the way that I would like to be treated… I always thought that I did – I am giving, I am kind, I am gentle. I am understanding, I am honest. I wont jerk you around and I wont tell you shit that isn’t true. If I say something, you can take it to the bank. In spite of perhaps how this blog reads sometimes, I do try and do what I think is best at the time, even if sometimes hindsight proves that to have been wrong. I thought… that by doing all these things, I would encourage these things back. People would be honest and nice and kind to me. But no. Being all these things just makes you a doormat. People will see your kind nature and they will exploit it. People will step on your beaming, honest face to get a leg up and they don’t give a fuck about you in the process. And they will leave you the dregs and fuck your kind nature, cause you’ll put up with it rather than say something bad.

So I ponder how I can find that counter balance between being kind, and gentle, and nice, and honest etc and still not be a doormat. Not stand in front of people and say sure, shit all over my weetbix, I’m fine with that. Sure I’ll do all your dirty work, sure I’ll sit here and be your booty call, sure you can say nasty shit to me about things that I find important just for the fun of getting a reaction.

How can you not be a doormat when being a doormat is all you’ve ever known?

How can you reject friends when they only want to be friends on their terms, when you’ve got no one else to replace them?

How do you cut the ties with the only person you’ve ever felt truly understands you? How can you tell the one person you love to go away until they learn how to treat you better?

I always find this time of year very confronting. I always feel obliged to try and reinvent the wheel.

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{April 9, 2015}  

I don’t get it. I’ve tried, Henry help me I have.

But when we both know that it’s never going to progress past what it got to – just talk, no real physical stuff, definitely never sex – where’s the harm in it? Running away and ignoring it isn’t going to change anything. It isn’t going to remove the feelings, it isn’t going to render the whole thing null and void. It isn’t going to stop you from thinking of me, it isn’t going to take back all the conversations we had. It isn’t going to change anything, but now it just leaves it room to fester in our memories and never peter out into nothing like so many do… or maybe that’s just the way I see it? Maybe it is best for you. But the fact that you can’t deal with it, that you need to run away in the name of ‘guilt’… innocent men don’t feel guilt.

Promised him I would stop messaging him so much, because he needs space to nurse his guilty feelings and I just want to chat with a friend, someone who will talk with me not at me, someone who will listen rather than just wait for a pause in the conversation so they can change the topic to what THEY want to talk about. He says he gets that. Haven’t messaged him for over a week. Not going to until I wish him a happy  birthday. Most of the time it’s fine, but sometimes it’s struggle street.

I have been taking steps towards the old me lately… making efforts to try and engage in things I used to enjoy. Trying to get back to the me that I used to be before I lost myself to this crazy infatuation. I think perhaps once I find that person again, maybe I’ll be in a position to introduce the Old Me to the New Me, let them meet and see how they like each other. Maybe they’ll get along and I can merge them. Hopefully. Finding myself is HARD. I don’t know how to do it and I don’t know where to start? But I really do need to find myself again – the person I have now is just… not someone I can live with a lot longer.

I’m tired.

  • next step of MBP has arrived, now just to get it to me and get stuck in
  • earning money
  • getting out of the house, spazz free (and eating!)
  • watching the boys rambunctiously playing
  • hugs


{April 8, 2015}  

My blog entries are tenuous things at the present… they’re all in there and they do desperately want to get out, but I basically need to sit down and type them out IMMEDIATELY or they’re gone into the wide blue yonder, never to be seen again, only to arrive in fits and starts at stupid o’clock in the morning when I can’t really do anything about it.

I think I’ve broken my smallest little buddy. Somewhere in amongst the last installment of bullshit with PP (Oh, I haven’t blogged about that… maybe I never will?) I must have been furiously whispering at my PC as I threw all of my heartfelt emotions at the keyboard. It’s something I do; I’ll often re read important messages back to myself to see what they sound like, to make sure they make sense and they say what I want them to say… but of course, I live in a shared household so it turns out I whisper them. Somewhere along the lines my smallest little friend has linked up this furious whispering with the tears that followed as soon as I went to bed (I didn’t even achieve that one night, they were pouring down my face the second my hand left the knob of my bedroom door) and now every time I whisper anything… he bounds to my side with a super concerned expression and sits earnestly next to me until I pat him, or stands on his hind legs and nudges my hand until I acknowledge him. I’ve never had such a perceptive pet before, it’s both wonderful and devastating. I love that he’s so in tune with me that he knows, but I hate that it upsets him, that I cause him such distress.

Strikes me that perhaps all the wonderful things in my life cause me such extremes in emotions, from one end to the other. And once again I am annoyed that I lost that fantastic piece I wrote once about this very topic. Damn you crappy old computer!

Dreamt about PP this morning. For the first time in the whole saga, I remember actually dreaming about him. You’d think that in amongst all the drama, the passion, the fantasies about what could be, the longing for what wouldn’t be, the potential…. that he’d have popped up somewhere before? But no. My brain doesn’t regularly access many people – in fact I can only recollect dreaming about maybe three people more than once… BDEB (who to this day still pops up regularly), the sleazy married ex and the douchebag I used to be best friends with. And even this morning he seemingly represented NOTHING. It was as if my  brain rifled through all the people I knew to find just the right person to represent just a random person, just  a face that could’ve been anyone. It’s as if my brain is saying “This is meaningless, don’t worry about it. This is of zero importance and since you don’t fucking listen we’re going to try and explain it to you in dreams. If that doesn’t work, next stop interpretive dance.” Perhaps I’ve been over everything so consciously that there’s nothing left for my subconscious to sort out?

My former voluntary commitment starts this weekend. I do not need to be there. I do not need to worry about it. But I still worry a bit.. because I feel like I should go in support of the person who took it over from me. To help them out for the first time. So I’m unsure what my plans are on that front ATM but I am still feeling a little spazzy over it. Even tho the person understands my position and said I don’t need to be there. My brain is just searching for stuff to spazz about. If it wasn’t for the fact that I am still unable to travel distances with himself in the car, I’d actually have nothing to be spazzy about ATM. Which is promising and hopefully a sign of things to come!

My Big Project is coming along in leaps and bounds… a large component has been ordered (for less than I expected, yay!) and will soon be in place (hopefully) and another tricky thing has been completed, with the next step in place just as soon as the guy is available to come back. I am finding myself again in the plan-making-business but finding this choice an easier one to make this time. I will soon be able to get back out there and start slogging away at painting again, which will be both nice and not so nice – nice to get it done, nice to see some awesome progress but not so nice on my back and potentially my spazz attacks. I’m also worried it wont look very good and it’ll turn out I’m a bit shit at it.

I am tired, and my shoulder muscles are aching again. I am so tired of having tired shoulders. It’s a spazz thing. I swear to Henry they felt great for 48 hours after PP gave them a massage… I need the fucker back in my life again for that, if nothing else.

  • easter bunny chocolate – same as regular chocolate but strangely tastier
  • snuggling under the doona with all my furry bebes
  • good books
  • completing jobs
  • clean teeth
  • slippers
  • decluttering
  • going to bed!


{April 5, 2015}  

The stars are twinkling, the  moon is shining, all out of spite to me. They sit up there all smug (and sometimes long dead) and beam down at me, full of their reminders and their associations and I can’t get away from it. For every star there’s a memory, a broken heart, a feeling, an emotion. They’re not all bad. But they’re all there. In my face, every fucking night.

Of all the things he could cock up for me – it had to be something so unavoidable as the night. Don’t get me wrong, there’s plenty  more associations… anything to do with his workplace, certain songs, the usual crap.

I have a lot more to say but I’m tired. And I’ve no doubt how I feel right now will not be how i feel tomorrow.



et cetera