Broken Bella Donna

{August 27, 2016}   sigh.

Do you remember all of it? I do.

I remember stroking your thigh with the backs of my fingers when I was patting the little one. I remember you placing your hand on my back when I leaned across you to look at your camera that last night. I remember the way your arm felt so perfect around my shoulders on the night that both started it all and yet was the start of the end. How it felt like it had always been there, like we were just waiting time until it found its way back, returning home. I remember how you cupped my hands in yours to warm them around your mug. How you looked at me that time I showed you the bend in my nose. How we stared into each others eyes that dawn on the driveway, and we both knew we were on the cusp of something dangerous, exciting, beautiful and forbidden but so right, so perfect, so real.

I remember every touch, every conversation, every feeling. I remember you. I remember us. No matter how long ago, no matter how much we don’t speak, no matter the distance you put between us with your words, with my behaviour, with your callousness, with this pretence. It’s there. It’s always there. It will always be there. I did not imagine it, you cannot pretend. It’s easy for you to pretend but your actions give you away.

I miss you. I miss us. Occasionally, like tonight these feelings of loss rear up and annihilate me. They tear my soul to shreds. I am left incapable of defiance; I am vulnerable to attack. My guards are not down, they are gone. Dead. Dried up and discarded in the bitter cold wind that blows through my life without you in it. It feels worthless and like nothing, less valuable than soil. My soul is soil, infertile and barren. I will not feel this way in the morning and I know that the brief crying jag I just had will make me feel better. But tonight I will think about your touch, your thoughts, you feelings, your vulnerability, how you let me in to that damaged, shy, lovely part of you. How you let me see you. How we let each other pick over the decay that is our souls, the rot that is our roots, how we allowed ourselves to open up so entirely that the relationship became so… co-dependent. Damaged, incompatible with life. Like nothing so beautiful in its raw ugliness could ever be sustained for long. And you keep roaming back into my life to fuck me up once a year or so, when the feelings within you get too much to bear and you can’t take it one second longer, you can’t bear not to talk to me and spill the scourge that is your true feelings. And then you leave, and leave me to sort through the rubble that is both your emotions and mine whilst you casually go back. Casually. Casualty. You the former, me the latter. And I kneel, sorting through the rubble, stirring the mess and sifting through to identify what I can keep and what needs to be discarded. What I can bring myself to throw away. And then I throw myself away. To the wind. And the winds blow and gently, slowly pour the pieces back together and I build myself again, sometimes from the ground up, sometimes from the top down, always meeting in the middle last. Sometimes quickly, sometimes slowly.

I do wish you weren’t so good at acting like I’m worth nothing.


That is what a former friend once wrote in a Christmas card to me. I was entirely unsure at the time if that was a good or a bad thing, and I’m still not sure.

My life continues to take strange turns. Esp regarding my ‘love life’ for lack of better words. Why this is, I’m unsure… in the past I’ve bought on a lot of that complication myself by going out and seeking interest from men, mistaking their interest in me as some sort of justification, some sort of proof that I really am someone worth something. As a more mature version of myself now I understand better that this isn’t true – the number of men that find me attractive, the number of friends I get cards from on my birthday, the number of people who ‘approve’ of me… doesn’t really mean much. I no longer count likes. I try not to attention seek. Sometimes I fail and sometimes I still judge my worth on this frivolous shit but… not often nowadays.

Today I understand that the number of men that find me attractive isn’t relevant – it’s nice to know that I’m cute or whatever but it doesn’t change anything. The number of likes I get on photos is fun but I don’t post photos for others. There’s only a very small number of people in my life that I care enough about to worry about their opinion, and well… that’s fairly well documented on here, isn’t it?


Have not spoken to PP since that night, not really. I thought he was on for a talk the other night, apparently had some time to himself but chose to watch a b grade movie instead of talk to me. Which indicates to me that at this point of time, our friendship is irrelevant to him – he has purged himself, he has reminded himself that I am still here and he has been sated. He has had his fill and off he goes.

And yet I put up with that shit.

In the last few weeks it has come to light that my very handsy ex, the one who has repeatedly pursued me before and all throughout his marriage has separated from his wife. Amicably. The ex that was always touching me, telling me he just ‘wanted to feel a real woman’, messaging me, telling me his wife ‘didn’t need to know’ and trying to engage me in a relationship… is now free to do it all without the shackles of a wife to hold him back. I’m wary and watching with interest – this can only do bad things to my spazz attacks. He dropped in to tell us personally, as a family as we are family friends. He was almost nervous about it, jumped out of his car and left it running so he could make a quick get away but ended up staying for a coffee and a chat. I don’t know what to make of that. Did he think he’d get quizzed, or that the reception would be bad? I don’t know.

I would like very much to have him back as a friend – we weren’t really able to maintain much of a friendship during his marriage due to his wifes dislike of me, which is understandable and I never held that against her, given how he behaved. Once she realised that it was one sided and that I didn’t encourage nor allow it, she warmed to me a bit but we’ve never exactly been friends. I quite like him as a friend, he’s a great guy. Funny, very charming, sweet and he cares for me quite a lot. But I don’t feel like he can just be friends without carrying on, in hopes of getting me back. I’m not so vain as to think that he wants me that badly – I think he just wants to get laid. And as he tries harder I’m going to act colder and he’ll end up frustrated and he’ll walk. I can foresee it happening.

The bit that has sat as strange in my head? I can’t stop thinking about him. Literally nothing has changed really, his single-ness affects nothing considering that A) I don’t want a relationship with him and B) he was hitting on me even when he WAS married… but for some reason he’s back in my head, pottering around. I keep thinking about him, remembering stuff, wondering. I assume it’s because I’m thinking about how this news may start up old stuff, may stir things up again now that he could (if he wanted to, which he probably doesn’t) have a go again… but as I said. He was carrying on whilst married. So what gives, brain? Why are  you thinking about him again?



One more anyway.

I don’t think I’ve blogged about the third guy. He is new to this blog but not to me. I don’t even know how long I’ve known him, only that it’s been somewhere around 13 years (tho he says 15, it literally can’t be because I haven’t lived here for 15 years yet). He’s never hid the fact he fancies me a bit but it’s always been in good fun, just the odd comment here and there, stirring up my mum mostly. I’ve always had the feeling that he’d like to go there but only a shag, nothing more intense, just no strings attached action. In fact in the entire time I’ve known him we literally catch up like once or twice a year, just if we stumble across each other, and just chat for a bit and move on. The running joke has always been ‘see you next year’.

Until the last couple of years. Recently he’d started popping up under strange guises, small excuses. I was seeing a lot more of him. His behaviour had changed slightly and he was making more comments. He seemed to need to engage with people more – he’s always been a very solitary person, almost intimidated by the idea of peopling. Then he saw me in a dress and the comments. So many comments. I don’t even remember them now in spite of the fact it was only a few months ago, but suffice to say he was tickled pink at the fact he’d seen me in a dress and declared that I looked ‘gorgeous’ and that I was ‘giving him ideas’. He is very forthcoming with the compliments, always has been.

Then he ended up with my mobile number and at first it was “I think about you all the time, have done for years” in reply to me thanking him for thinking of me when he offered me something he had… And today he moved out of town and sent a very touching message to me. He said “Thank you for being a wonderful fantasy in my life for 15 years? I feel I’m in decline now and you are still so youthful and beautiful. I love your sense of humour and views. Every twist and turn in our lives sets a different course and I do wonder how things could have been?”

Like… what? How do you even reply to that? Why oh why send a message like that when you’re leaving the area? He’s about 11 years my senior and has obviously had more feelings than I gave him credit for. I replied something about it being very full on for a Friday night and that I didn’t know how to reply, but that I was sure we’d catch up again and thanked him for being a fellow square peg in a round hole. He messaged me again today to tell me he was ‘home’ in his new place and that it had been a long day.

The worst part is… had we met earlier than what we did, perhaps things could have been different? Maybe he’s right. We’re very different but very similar in ways – one of the ways we’re very similar is that we’re both rigid and inflexible. And damn weird. We both need someone to counteract the weird I think. Also, I think I miss sharing a town with him, which is strange given how erratically we caught up. But it feels odd to know that he isn’t here anymore.

Well. That sums up all the strangeness that is my head at present… not really thinking much about the man who I last gave my heart to but thinking a lot about two men who have treated me a lot nicer than he does.

I think I’m overdue a list!

  • progressing thru my studies for the year, and feeling confident about my foray into higher studies
  • the fact that at the moment, no one is doing horribly in the health department
  • the potential of developing another small but enjoyable career path
  • the ongoing success of my march to better health by making small changes
  • the good side affect of my better health march – I’ve lost a few kg and most of my cellulite (what little I had)
  • small progress on MBP – it’s still progress!


{April 6, 2016}   Protected: PW = his nickname.

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{March 4, 2016}   Just let me rest.

I have a pervading sense of doom lately, every night. I can spend my days content, or at very least ok with life but once I climb into bed… the pressing sensation arrives. It brings with it all the negative thoughts in the world, and it crushes me in my bed. Anxiety rises in my chest and throat and threatens to overwhelm the rest of my senses. Every scary thing in the world becomes very real and I’ve started to dread going to bed. I just don’t want to deal with it. I lie there and just have to bear it.

I’m hoping by writing about it, it will start to lessen the pressure. It’s often how it works for me. By acknowledging the elephant in the room, maybe it’ll fuck off.


Things are plateau’d to basically nothing with PP and that is ok. We catch up occasionally and it is fine. We no longer chat online and that isn’t fine but that is how it is. I assume he has achieved a place in his head that he is more comfortable with now and that’s that. Que sera sera. I have managed to shoehorn him into a box in my head titled “Things I don’t regret but have finally acknowledged had to stop”.

Seven months later and I’m still not really ready or keen to talk about the health of a loved one. We had a very unexpected health scare – a terminal kind of health scare – and it has changed life as we know it in the household. I have my suspicions that this topic is one of the reasons I have not blogged worth a damn in so long – I use my blog to work through things in my head and (in a way) I’m still just avoiding working through this one. This is not how I thought life would pan out. It changes everything. It reminds me that as much as I want things to stay the same, as much as the idea of things changing strikes a cold icy fear into my core… it is going to. And it is going to sooner rather than later.

MBP is still an ongoing saga. Still progressing at a much slower clip than I’d like but still, it’s progress.

I have the weekend off. I need to start ticking things off my list that need doing instead of sitting around, surrounded by crap, wondering why I’m feeling strung out.


{January 20, 2016}   Welcome to my world

Welcome to my little patch of the world. I exist in rural Australia, and here we take the good with the bad; the highs and the lows.

It is Summer, and we are in drought.

I venture outside into the furnace onslaught that comes with the hotter days, where you can feel the hot breeze blast against your bare legs as you step out the door and I find my world has turned brown. The only green thing left on my lawn is the hose: every blade of grass has died, every introduced specie has withered. Only the native flora and fauna survive, after many, many years of developing and evolving to suit the climate. If you stand outside on a still day (and there are many) you can hear the cracking and tearing of the eucalyptus trees as they shed branches; a survival technique carefully developed to ensure the trees survival through another hot summer. The native bush here is intelligent beyond words; the trees shed branches, bark and leaves generate leaf litter, which burns hot and fast and allows the seeds to break from the carefully designed pods that protect the precious seed from wildlife. Even the bush here understands that it is a matter of time before it burns, and it is survival of the fittest.

In an Australia summer, your sense of smell becomes your best friend.

Every time I leave the house, I find myself scenting the air like a hound. Squinting at the horizons looking for smoke. We live in permanent fear of bush fire during these months – either by lightning strike, campfire, accident or the most frustrating and dangerous – the arsonist. At this time of year something as small as a spark from a train wheel, or something as uncontrollable as a dry storm can cause untold havoc. You take what steps you can to prevent it happening to you – you can clean your gutters from leaf litter. You can make sure your pump is attached and primed ready to go for your fire fighting water tank. You can clear all excess debris that could burn from around your house. You can keep your lawns short. You can keep a dedicated paddock for stock that is bare of any matter than can burn, in hopes that even if you get them in there, you don’t lose them to smoke inhalation, panic or shock. You can create a fire plan that outlines what to do at the last minute, where you’ll go if you evacuate, what to take, how to prepare. You can make sure you either have all of what you’ll need if you’re staying to fight, or have your bags packed ready to go. But it doesn’t matter what you do at the end of the day because you are at the mercy of Mother Nature and if that bitch wants you to burn, you’ll damn well burn.

Here in Australia we’ve had two fires in the past five years that have burnt so ferociously they have created their own weather. They have literally been so hot they have changed the weather around them. They made their own thunderstorms immediately above the zone, and the lightning zapped down to create more fires. Ain’t that a peach.

I’ve been lucky (so far) in my neck of the woods. My property is blanketed by smoke at the moment but it isn’t from fires local to me. The smoke has drifted across and covered part of the state and settled in like an old friend. An old friend you’d like to leave but just wont take the hint.

There’s something truly insidious about bush fire smoke. Especially old smoke. It gets in to everything. You can keep your doors and windows shut tight against it but it seems to creep in all the same. If you go outside you can see the haze like a dirty fog (and if you’re close enough you’ll get ash and burnt leaves rain down like lazy grey ghost confetti) and you can just smell it. That acrid tang that catches in the back of your throat, drying your mouth and leaving you feeling hoarse and raspy. If you make the mistake of hanging your washing out on the line you’ll be washing the smell of smoke from your clothing for weeks. You’ll be reminded of the fire every time you change your underpants until you workout where the smell is coming from. Of course, you’ll be entirely aware of the smell. How could you not? It’s pervading and perverse. It’ll hit you like a slap when you walk outside. When you touch your face you’ll smell it on the skin of your hands, it’ll get into your hair. But after a day or two you’ll stop noticing it so much, only remembering when you come inside and you’re not breathing it anymore, and when you notice your throat is sore. And then you’ll lay down for a nap and wake up and have a strange taste in your mouth and you’ll wonder… what is it? And it’ll take you a minute to identify it. The smell is no longer just a smell – now it has a flavour too.

Maybe it’ll rain tomorrow. But more likely it will not.

{October 3, 2015}   Mope.

I have the mopeys.

I know exactly why, and as usual it boils down to feeling left out. And I can’t even talk it out with anyone because the people I talk to the most are the people involved. So instead I sit on it and just feel bad. Rinse and repeat.

I’ve been discovering this year that people simply are not that straight up anymore. I keep expecting people to behave as I do, to give and take as I give and take. To actually say what they mean and be consistent about it. And that’s just not how it works. These people who tell me they think I’m great or funny, they consider me one of their best friends, that they love me (in a friend way)… most of them are… I wanted to say full of shit. But that isn’t right. I’m sure they feel that way at the time they say it, but they don’t act that way consistently. They say one thing but their behaviour says another. People who are wonderful friends until you disagree, or they’re having a bad day and everyone gets their backs up.

It seems like 2015s lesson is to learn and understand that people are multi faceted, and not always what they seem. Esp when you meet them online. The persona that some people present (self included) online can only be maintained for just so long… and once the mask slips, the question is – can you then blend the two personas together? The friendly one with the bad-day one? Can one absorb the other? Or will the friendly persona forever be tainted?

Perhaps 2016s lesson is to learn to accept everyone on all levels, not just superficially. To acknowledge that everyone has the potential to be mean, to be a bitch, to attack unprovoked, to play favourites. To use and to cast aside when inconvenient to them. To forget about you when there’s better offers. To play you off against others to further their own goals. And whilst all of these points are negative and undesirable… they are part of human nature, and I am guilty on occasion of some of them too.

Another good lesson for 2016 is to remember a very important point. That this behaviour in others is not necessarily a reflection of me. Mostly people behave in this way because it is a choice they have made, and that reflects directly and entirely upon them. Their behaviour is part of their story – it is who they are as a human. It does not reflect on me. I am in control of how I react, but I have no control over how they behave.

I do not deserve to be treated poorly. The question is – how do I choose more wisely the people I give my trust and affection to? How do I stop this cycle of choosing negative friends?

I had an interesting realisation the other day. My current issue with spazz attacks is following a nearly identical path to the original occurrence; the time when it first impacted my life so negatively. Which is heartening because it means that I can – and will – become ‘normal’ again. And based on the first cycle, it shouldn’t be far away now. I beat that shit into submission last time and I will again. And all the things I can’t possibly fathom doing now, will come easily again. Right now I look back on all I’ve done in the last 15 years and I think…. shit. I really had it together. I was a nearly fully functioning adult. And I will be again. And I’m just thankful that it took 15 years to really get bad again – on that theory I’ll be old before it does it again, ha ha!

Life otherwise pootles along. Things with PP have not greatly changed, though my opinion of him continues to degrade in tiny increments. Not because he has changed, or I have changed but because I am finally seeing what has been there all the long… how badly be treats me. I don’t feel he treats me poorly because he’s an arsehole, but because it is how he is dealing with the situation… most of the time. But it’s horrendously unfair to think it’s acceptable to try and treat me like an online booty call one day, and then spend the next week being a bit cold and then telling me how much you miss your wife. I get it. You’re married. So act like it.

(In his defense I don’t think he thinks it’s fair either. He’s just too weak to be consistent. The question I ask myself every day is… is it hard to be consistent because he’s just ‘being a man’ and thinking with his dick? Or is it hard to be consistent because there’s legit feelings and a connection there? I don’t know. And I never will know. And I can – and will – read into everything he says and does to try and identify an answer… because there are legit feelings and a connection there for me. Which makes me the weak and vulnerable party.)

(interestingly, I once again change from speaking about him as a third party to speaking directly as if he was reading. This just cements the fact that I feel like this blog is basically an open letter to him some days – sometimes literally).

MBP is still largely at a stand still; a combination of lack of time, poor weather, difficulty sourcing help, lack of motivation… the usual. I’m starting to pick up the threads again now and attempt to get the ball rolling again.

A list of positives? I think so.

  • the ongoing safety of my home, coming into bushfire season
  • the ongoing health of those around me
  • receding feelings of spazz
  • getting jobs done
  • recharging outside in nature
  • friends you can rely on
  • opportunities to succeed
  • online shopping!
  • lyrics that fit your mood perfectly
  • sleep ❤

{September 13, 2015}  

I cannot tell if you don’t care or you want me to think you don’t. I can’t tell if everything you felt is still relevant or it’s all in the past. I can’t tell tell anything.

I can tell that it hurts when you speak to me like that, like everything is nothing. Like I’m less interesting to you than most, like you never bared your soul. Like you never let me see the soft underside, like you never told me you had feelings for me. Big feelings.

Every time you’re like this, you “can’t remember” conversations we had. Like it was so unimportant that you don’t care. But when you come crawling to me at 1am, you remember everything. Every time you’re like this you have to bring her up at the drop of a hat like you’re trying to remind me she’s there, and yet when you’re there in the witching hour you pretend she doesn’t exist whilst you’re trying it on with me.

God help me. I need to just… aaaargh.

Nothing changes.

I need to take away the power that you have, the power to ruin my week, to crush my soul.

You’re not allowed to only want to love me on your terms and expect me to turn off everything for you when it isn’t convenient. You’re not allowed to dictate how I feel.

I’m tired of everything being what you want. I’m too weak to change it.

I’ve been in a really low spot for years now. You caused it. How do I get out of it?

{July 27, 2015}   I have feels.

And my feels are a bit sad.

Caught up with PP the other night again, online. And it just isn’t the same. I’m not sure he’s changed, but I think I have.

I no longer look at him like he’s all that. We’ve had some distance between us and now I can sit back and see stuff. Stuff I don’t want to see. I liked it better before. I don’t want to look at him and see that he’s treated me badly, no matter how ‘justifiable’ the behaviour has been. I don’t want to think about him negatively. I liked my world when I had someone in it I thought was so perfectly suited to me (note: I never thought he was perfect. I just thought his flaws were little idiosyncrasies I could deal with) I liked us better as friends when there was nothing but acceptance. Now he keeps telling me I’m picking at him, when I’m not… or at least I don’t think I am? Is he speaking up now when he didn’t before? Or am I speaking up now? Am I indeed picking at him, or is he finding flaws in things that never bothered him in the past? Has one of us changed, or have both of us changed?

I don’t like it at all. This is the beginning of the end. This is how it happens… the shine is off, the gloss is gone. It makes me less likely to watch to catch up. I’m sure it’s already occurred for him because I haven’t been someone he’s wanted to catch up with for a long time. (On a side note, this also annoys me because he’s no doubt thinking the same things about me, and how not fantastic I am now and fuck him, I AM fantastic!)

Tho on the other side of the coin, the last two times we have caught up sans audience, things have degraded at times back to what it used to be – the desire for physical (non sexual) contact, the occasional inappropriate remark. So… has it gone? Or is it just better controlled? I still don’t know if this is something he needs, or just something he wants.

I did turn the conversation briefly around to a conversation we had last year that I wanted clarification on. Which I should’ve known better than to do, because of course I didn’t get it. What I did get was much of the same… treading lightly around, not answering anything directly, a casually thrown out statement of ‘maybe it was a ruse’. I don’t know if he’s intentionally keeping me strung along so that I keep hanging off his coat tails for attention, or he genuinely wants to tell me stuff but can’t/won’t put it in writing. The latter seems more accurate but if this was happening to someone else, I’d assume the former…

But every time I see him everything comes back. Every time it comes back, the feelings are all still there. But my capacity to deal with them afterwards has improved out of sight. I no longer get bogged down for a month in what ifs. It’s down to mere days now, and what if is being over run HARD with fact now. What does this all mean?

I feel like when I blog about this topic, half the time it’s the polar opposite of what I blogged last time. This is how my mind works; it leaps and cavorts from point to point, rarely agreeing with itself, always with intent to confuse.

Life here has been hard for the last few weeks. We had an Epic Health Drama Of Massive And Potentially Life Threatening Proportions within the household. The sort of drama that changes shit permanently. That makes you look forward and realise that things have to change even more in order to remain tangible. It has perhaps given me an opportunity to do something about my spazz attacks of 2015, but I need to man up and be brave enough to take the steps to fix this…

I’m tired. That feels like the story of my life ATM.

{July 19, 2015}   Protected:

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Freshly disowned in some frozen devotion,

No more alone or myself could I be.

Lurched like a stray to the arms that were open,

No shortage of sordid, no protest from me.

The first time I heard this song I loved it. Then I listened to the lyrics and… this jumped out at me. In spite of the subject of the song being irrelevant to my life, these lyrics just perfectly sum up the last few years for me. The situation with PP. The situation as it is now, that I am alone in this ‘friendship’, that I became compulsive about someone who accepted me, faults and all and basically forced my friendship down their throat until we were both so caught up in the complicated disaster that it became that we couldn’t see it until it was too late, that it was wrong and that we willingly dipped into the wrongness that it was.

And I wouldn’t change a goddamn thing.

What a massive experience it proved to be, and a huge step in my life. I learned life lessons I never thought I’d get to learn, and grew in an amazing way. But that door seems to be shut now and that makes me sad. But not as sad as it used to.

I haven’t blogged worth a damn because, well… spazz attacks. They’re kicking my arse still (6 months!) and I have retreated backwards badly. I know that I wont defeat them until I try and I think I’m getting closer to ready but.. it’s hard, harder than it was before I think. Last time (back at the start) I was forced constantly, daily, multiple times a day to face it and man up. My life was very hard and I had no idea what was wrong with me, just that something was. The very act of hiding it from everyone and being made constantly to butt heads with my spazz attacks forced my hand. Now I’m older, I have that understanding that YES I can get past it and YES I will but I also know what the problem is now. I have others around me who have been exposed to it now. This is both a good and a bad thing – I am using it as an excuse now. I am telling people no, and no because of spazz attacks. That isn’t fixing the problem – it anything it has made it a lot harder. It has become an acceptable crutch and I’m not having to mentally slap myself around the face and get the fuck over it.

It’s just easier to say ok, time to back off and let life wash over you for awhile. You can gain strength and confidence and attack when you’re ready.

I thought I’d be ready by now. I’m not sure I am. Every day that passes compounds the problem.

What I DID do was get into the habit of talking about it CONSTANTLY. People in my life who every time I felt bad I had to report it to, People who tried to talk me thru shit. I know this was meant well and that it helped at the time but all it has done is lengthen the process of getting out of this funk. I realise now that I have to stop talking about it constantly and reminding myself that it is there. I have to stop holding it in the forefront of my brain. It is literally always there, to the point that now all I think of when people leave me alone at home is “what if someone shows up and I have to talk to them and have a spazz attack?”. I am literally spazzy about leaving the house, *and* about being at home. This is a thousand different types of fucked up.

I need to push down the spazzy feelings. I need to separate myself from them. I need to acknowledge that they are there, that they are trying to show me a threat that doesn’t exist. I need to remind myself that I am safe. I have some control over the situation – not all of the control, but nor do I need that control.

I need to get back into all of my old healthy habits, and away from these unhealthy ones.Physical and mental.

I need to retain all of my healthy relationships, and remove myself from the unhealthy ones or at very least understand that the unhealthiness isn’t necessarily a result of my actions. Those who leave my life have left because our involvement in each others lives has come to a close, we have learned what we had to learn. If there is any more to be learned, we will reconnect. That they have their own story and that their story affects how they react to others, and that how they treat me doesn’t necessarily reflect on me.

That’s the key thing. That’s what has taken me until my 30s to understand. That how people treat me isn’t necessarily a reflection on me and my story. Yes, sometimes how I behave causes others to react and affects the way they treat me in a certain way, but that’s a much smaller piece of the pie. The majority of the pie is them. Their story. Their life experience.

I am not a bad person. I try to do my best. Sometimes I get it wrong but mostly I don’t. I have to remember this. After a life time of never being enough, of being wrong, of being pushed down, minimalised, encouraged to under achieve so as to not be better than those that see me as a threat… that’s their problem. Not mine. I am enough. I do my best with what I have been given and what is available to me right now.

  • Ongoing forward progress in MBP.
  • A new job offer that has the potential to be terrific (if I get brave enough)
  • Incoming (and spazz free) work starting soon
  • New beginnings
  • Warm heaters
  • Onesies
  • My furry kids
  • Electricity!

et cetera