personal

No (wo)man is an island.

Posted on by KMS234

This is what we are told as we get older, more often men, but it’s applicable to women too.

NO MAN IS AN ISLAND.

Meaning you need people around you in this world, to support, comfort, listen to, and grow with you. You are not alone, is the screamingly obvious message here.

However, recently I have felt increasingly isolated and alone in this life. I have always had many friends and as an only child they often take the place of biological siblings, especially my childhood friends.

As an adult, making friends is difficult. Making real friends is harder again. We all have many superficial friendships, for example within our hobby groups. I know names and faces, well, mostly I do, but really not much about the actual person or their life. We all have jobs and families of differing sizes and needs, and most of the time I don’t delve deeper for fear of offending or being seen as nosey. Take for example, just in the last fortnight, I have discovered someone’s real first name (thanks Facebook for allowing strange profile names) and that another person has children, two, older ones at that! I had not an inkling! None.

I myself am single, never been married, have no children, have no biological siblings, have several step-siblings of similar age whom I don’t know all that well, divorced and remarried parents, and we all live in different states right across the country. I have always been an independent woman, made my way in this world on my own, straight out of university and into a job and headlong into life, financially and physically. Never in my wildest dreams did I ever imagine I would be 50 years of age and have no long-term life partner, at the very least! I truly am an island. My tiny atoll of family has had its surrounding ribbon reef broken and each family member (islet) scattered many miles away.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m ok in my own company, I don’t need a man, but it’s certainly a lonely journey without someone by my side. And right now, thanks to the last few years which have brought about a change in career, my ageing health status, Covid-19 and the existential rise in cost of living, I am feeling the world attacking me from every side and angle.

My change in career has devastated my financial situation and the added expenses of everyday living is definitely not helping. On top of that I have been going through perimenopause and into post menopause for a staggering 12 years. I’ve experienced the end of a couple of romantic relationships, the most recent was excruciating and has torn my self-confidence apart, and I am sure has left me with a short-term mild case of PTSD. I have lost my fun and happy self. I am not a nice person right now, and I don’t like who I have become.

These are the times when we most need our friendships. Especially women. We are different creatures to men, and thrive when surrounded by other females who believe in us, who support us, who listen, really listen and hear us, who comfort and reassure us that we are all experiencing, or have experienced, similar feelings, concerns, fears and traumas. This is our archipelago. Our closely scattered group of islands.

But as a human, and not a piece of rock in the middle of the ocean, I have feelings that I am allowed to express without judgement. So do you. Our ways and means of expressing these feelings and opinions are going to be different. Compromise needs to come to the fore when confronted with another’s physical and verbal displays. Perhaps some time out to let the situation settle if it’s uncomfortable, or a comforting hug for someone in distress, reassurance to the unsure of self, but beyond all else, acceptance that this person has a right to express how they feel to someone they trust, without fear of rejection. If you can’t speak the truth to friends you trust, who can you speak it to? And what’s the point of friends if they can’t hold up a mirror to you and allow you to see what you’re refusing to see? We may as well all be islands if that is the case. Rocks don’t have a duty of care to one another, why the hell do we pretend?

Not long ago I found myself banished from my archipelago of friends, punished by isolation from my social flock, in fact completely amputated, from the life of someone I thought was a very good friend and by extension, our connecting group of mutual friends. I was, and still am, gob-smacked at the complete selfishness and ignorance of this act. Granted we were both angry, we got on each others last frayed nerve and pushed buttons that caused us to explode. But it takes two to have an argument, two lots of hurt and angry feelings, which involve two separate ways of expressing these feelings. Yet it only takes one to end it. One to hold out the olive branch and attempt to understand the other’s point of view, or, one to end the relationship point blank. I found to my dismay that my friendship was gone, point blank.

Had we stepped back, cooled down and given each other some breathing space, the outcome of this blow-up would have been very different. I am a person slow to anger and explosive when I do hit back. I’m not verbally loud, or physical, but I use words to strike back. Why is it that if someone is loud and physical when they get angry they are forgiven their reaction, but I, the quiet word user, is punished? What ever happened to “sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me”? Does the shouter and pusher of reactions even think about how their actions impact the other? Do they recognise that their reactions are hurting me the same way my reaction is hurting them, only via a different method? I think not.

I believe if someone considers themselves a close friend, they will remember the details of conversations, things that matter to you and affect you. Some of these things will be blatantly stated but others may be only touched on in the depth of a serious conversation. Physical or emotional abuse in relationships, trauma of war or accidents, come to mind, topics worth noting and tucking into ones memory for future reference of possible trigger types.

My observations over time have bracketed people into two general groups, the squeaky wheels and the observers. The former tend to bang on about themselves to anyone who will listen. They’ve always had the worst time in life, always have stresses worse than anyone else and do not hear a word anyone else says. They are completely self-absorbed and blind to others. They are the sappers of energy. The latter prop up and listen to the former, absorbing the verbal blows to allow them to get it off their chests. Often referred to as “the rock” in someone’s life. Unbeknownst to the squeaky wheels, the observers also need to get things off their chests, but are rarely heard by anyone but their own kind. We recognise it in each other by the non or well considered response to a situation. The distant stare in the eye of a hurt but hopeful observer, willing with all their might to get the other party to pipe down and hear the logic in their words and stop being so righteously hurt by reading what they think they see between the lines or are hearing in their own heads while you’re speaking to them. They don’t know how to listen or hear what is being said WITHOUT responding.

The first problem then is, if a squeaky wheel does ask if an observer is ok and the observer has a rant or is pushed into a response before they’re ready, the squeaky wheel takes offence and is taken aback when the observer explodes. Squeaky wheels don’t see the explosion as a manner of getting it off the observers chests the same way they do when they shout and carry on, instead they take umbrage that we have the gall to even get angry, let alone speak it out loud like they do. The double standard is astounding.

The connecting problem is, these two groups of people tend to attract each other. Maybe it’s a subconscious need to balance ourselves out. To keep ourselves afloat, feed off each other, lean on each other, prop up one another or cling on for dear life to keep from drowning. For eternity this has been the case and forever more it shall remain. This is one human behaviour that will always be the instigator of disagreements, arguments, hissy fits, battles and war. It is ego driven most of the time, even if you don’t think so. Each of us will remain stoically right in our own mind IF we never HEAR each other.

I may have lost a friend this time, but I will remain open to conversation and learning about the human psyche, always. We are intricate and fascinating creatures, confusing to say the least, but most of us worthy of second chances. I for one, am not a monster but my temper may manifest as one on occasion.

A friend for a season, a reason or a lifetime. Which one, my friend, are you?

Death is final.

Posted on by KMS234

Or is it?  Your body is dead, yes, but your existence until now and the memories held by those you came in contact with keep you alive – of sorts.  You will always live on in the hearts and minds of your family and friends, associates and enemies (we all have them so let’s be honest about it).

Recently a close high school friend passed away unexpectedly.  He was 43 years old.  As far as I am aware, he was reasonably healthy, fairly fit and in no way expected to die any time soon.  Sure, he was no uber athlete.  He drank, could probably have stood to lose a couple of kilos, likely ate Maccas and Hungry Jacks more often than he should have but don’t we all?  Guilty on all of those counts?  I know I am.  Most people I know would be too.

So how do we deal with the sudden departure of a loved one from our lives?  One day at a time is how.  I’ve had a week to process his passing now and have had a thousand memories and thoughts flooding my mind and subconscious during that time.  How?  Why?  How will his children cope?  What about his parents?  His partner?!  How would I feel if it were me who lost my partner like that?!  Shelter, food, money, normal life, a will, organising a funeral, going back to work, re-entering everyday life…………….???!!!!  And none of this involves me or is any of my business.  Or is it?

What if I did find myself in the same position?  Do I have a will?  Are my finances and debts organised so as not to impact someone else in a negative way?  Nor benefit the banks or government!  How would my parents feel?  Friends?  Do I speak to them often enough, do I see them as much as I could?  Do I tell them I love them each time I say goodbye?  Food for thought.

I set out to write this blog as a way of getting out of my head all the things I remember about my friend, Adam.  That was your given name but at school we called you Snoopy.  To this day I have no idea why or how you got that nickname.  Perhaps a mutual friend will enlighten me upon reading this.  The name stuck so well that most, if not all, of the teachers called you Snoopy too.  Adam just sounds weird.  Even nearly 30 years later when we’re all grown up!

Snoopy was a fellow boarder at a school in Townsville, Queensland, Australia.  There were approximately 200 boarders at the time and initially I think only three of them were boys.  By the time I graduated five years later there were somewhere between 10 and 20.  Snoopy arrived a couple of years after me so was really one of the founding few boys to board.  He helped set the scene so to speak.  Right now I am laughing because those poor boarding masters had NO idea what they were in for!

Snoopy was a larger than life character (and physically very tall – six foot plus!  I am five foot nothing.  He was loud, cheeky, naughty and a lot of fun.  He was never mean or nasty.  A gentleman with the ladies.  Smooth, confident and mature beyond his years.

My high school memories feature Snoopy for the most part.  He was just always there.  We, or I at least, took it for granted that he always would be.  Just one sarcastic comment away on Facebook, even though we live on opposite sides of the country.  He was just always present in the periphery of my life.

Even though Snoopy was not physically interacting with me from day to day or week to week, I feel his absence like a flatness.  My daily activities don’t feel so enjoyable right now.  Over time this will pass but for now I miss the little jibes and comments from afar.  I know there is someone missing.

I last saw Snoopy at the school centenary celebrations about 18 months ago.  And before that maybe seven years prior.  But each time it was like only a few weeks had passed.  Boarding schools will do this to you.  You make friends for life.  Even the people you didn’t know very well back then, you still have a connection with them.  You had a similar experience, it was you against those in authority and the system.  What could you achieve together as a bonded group?  Which boundaries could you push and perhaps even change?  Yeah, we had each others backs, still do.

You could always rely on Snoopy as a friend.  He accompanied me to the senior formal and another girl to her debutante ball.  As requested, he dressed the part (matching blue bow-tie and cummerbund with tails for my formal (yes you may laugh, it was 1990 – practically still the 80’s), suit and white gloves for the debutante ball) , conducted himself as a gentleman, learnt to dance and how to present a lady to society.

Don’t get me wrong, the man was no saint.  He did all the things young men do in their youth.  Fortunately without sustaining any major injuries or lasting consequences.  Speedboat racing if anything, was the one activity I felt might see him depart this world too soon.  But no, he got away with it.  Likely enjoyed getting away with it too.  I can see the smirk on his face now.  That cheeky twinkle in his eye knowing he out smarted the fates of daredevils.

My favourite memory of his naughty nature is from the formal.  As the waiters circled the tables offering alcoholic beverages to the parents, one such server asked Snoopy if he would like a drink………we looked at each other (both of us knowing full well he was a few years under age), smiled, his eyes twinkled, he smirked then turned back to the waiter and said “no thank you” with a little giggle.  Later in the evening I found him at the bar outside the ballroom having a drink and a smoke.  High school boys!  Snoopy!  *sigh*  I was not surprised and would have expected nothing less of the boy.

I’m sorry I won’t be able to attend his funeral tomorrow but I am glad that my final memories of Snoopy are happy ones and by that I mean he was so very happy.  Happy in love and life.  A few years ago we shared dating escapades and laughed at our misfortunes on that front.  It’s a whole different ball game in your 40’s let me tell you!  Just a couple of months before I met my current partner, Snoopy met his.  We asked each other if we were in the friend zone, were we fence sitting, was this the one?!

Rochelle, rest assured, you were definitely his ‘one’.  He was so chuffed that you put up with his (and I quote) ‘not conforming’.   I think this means he was indecisive and messy…..impulsive?  No inkling of how some of us like a neat and ordered world (call it OCD if you must).  If that was the case then Rochelle you are one good woman!  I know he loved you (and you him).  It was so, so nice to see you together at the school centenary. You obviously made each other very happy.  I know you will cherish your memories of your time together.  You are so fortunate to have met such a lovely person.

So if you’re still with me here, make the most of every moment with your loved ones.  Appreciate the little moments in life.  Enjoy the company of good people.  Do not waste your time in a job you hate, there are always other options.  Make the most of your opportunities.  Do the things that scare you.  Talk to people – and I don’t mean the creepy, stranger on the train giving you the stalker stare!  The people serving you in shops or restaurants.  The people in your office.  Other dog walkers.  Compliment a random stranger on their shoes/hat/dress/colour of shirt.  Be nice.  You never know when it will suddenly be over.

Goodbye my friend.  You will be greatly missed by many people.  You will always be in my memories and high school would never have been the same without you.  Try not to get up to too much mischief with Clancy B. and I will volunteer Hayley to accompany me to a marathon one day soon in your honour – we will just have to imagine you holding the water bottles……….arhem! Cocktails, I mean cocktails!  This world is already lesser for your passing.

With love xx

Life Appreciation.

Posted on by KMS234

Recently I have found myself wondering why a lot of folk make such a big deal of little things.  Yes, it’s possible that what appears a small issue to me is insurmountable for them.  But is it really?

I am lucky enough to be surrounded by many family and friends spread around the globe and have had the fortune to be born in a first world country that allows me the privilege of social media to observe and remain in contact with this amazing group of individuals.

What I have observed and witnessed more and more of over the years (and perhaps my ageing eye and life experience is kicking in here) is that at any one time a handful of these people are suffering and they like others to know about it.  They are angry.  They are sad.  They are in pain – occasionally physical but mostly mental.  The latter brought on by the former on occasion.  I myself am not immune to this either.  Misery shared is misery halved, right?

I like to think that I don’t live my life like a storm in a teacup for the sake of not being boring, or seeking attention.  I hope that I don’t over-react or knee-jerk react to situations that don’t warrant it.  So much of how we communicate with others today (social media I’m singling you out!) begs us to provoke a reaction from others – many of whom we don’t even know.  All in the name of validating ourselves in a world we feel doesn’t even know we exist.  Does it really matter that we don’t know and can’t know every single person on this planet?

Why are we not happy with knowing we are well loved in our own little, immediate circle of family and friends and don’t need to be making a statement or point to someone at the opposite end of the world?  Yes I know it’s nice to connect with others experiencing the same things the way we do and to show-off how smart, fun-loving, good-looking, happy, healthy and right we are.

What big fat liars most of us are.  It’s mostly fake.  And it’s mostly playing one-upmanship with each other.  Look how much better I am than you at…..whatever (insert superficial subject/action here).  We are all guilty of this at some point or another but other people live their entire lives this way.

Don’t get me wrong, I do see the positive side of connecting with others this way.  The encouragement we can give each other to pursue our dreams and goals is fantastic.  But there’s always going to be that handful of naysayers and negative ninnies (oh my goodness, how old am I??!!).  Ignore those people.  They are not worth your time.

My topic here is to those living amongst us who can’t seem to over-come their initial insult-to-ego, hurt, anger, sadness and pain of a situation that they have experienced.  For the rest of us, I’d hope that this blog serves as a reminder, that when we are feeling sorry for ourselves to not overlook but appreciate what we have and the little moments in every day that we live.

There are an infinite number of life experiences to be had.  All dependent on the initial basic of where we are born.  Who we are born of.  And the paths we follow from there.  Some may be lucky enough to be a part of an original nuclear family still.  Some have separated parents.  Some are estranged from family.  Some have family already passed on.  Some have children.  Some have lost children.  Some don’t have children.  Others are married or in long-term relationships mimicking marriage.  Some have never been married.  Others remain single.  There are those with high-paying jobs, those struggling to pay the bills and many unable to work for one reason or another.  There is financial freedom for some in home ownership.  Many rent for life.  Another group depend on others (government, family, friends, strangers even…) to live.  My point is, everyone is different and every life experience is different.  In our world of privilege (yes if you are reading this you are more than likely living a life of privilege – are you living in a war zone?  Are you starving in a refugee camp?  Are you collecting rubbish/rotten food/begging for money to merely exist?  No?  Then you are very, very lucky AND privileged).

So I ask you to take a look at yourself and your life.  Right now.  Are you being truthful with yourself and others?  Are you putting someone down in order to make yourself feel better because they hurt you?  Are you making your life harder than it needs to be?  Are you nice to others and yourself in everything you do and say?  Are you seeking attention instead of resolution?  Are you punishing yourself and everyone around you for decisions you (or others – thinking parents here) have made in your life?  Decisions that at the time were the right ones?

The unfortunate thing about life is we can’t go back and live the “what if?” scenario.  We can’t go back and live through the other options.  We are where we are now as a summary of the choices we have made thus far in our lives.  We can LEARN from our experiences and outcomes of those choices or we can continue to dwell on “what if”.

From time to time we all wonder what would have happened if we had chosen a different path of education or work.  Whether we fought those in authority or those more wise than us, every step of the way, simply because we were stubborn and so self-knowing that we strived to get our own way rather than hear and use the experience offered to us?  Have we remained unmarried because of our parents experiences and their perceived influence it’s had on our lives?  Or are we blaming our parental influences for the breakdown of our own personal relationships?  Have we not had children because of this, because biology has denied us that right or we simply didn’t want any?  Were children born to “fix” a relationship or because they are seen as the next step in society’s idea of what we should be doing?  Was the expense of marriage and children taken into consideration or was it a fly by the seat of one’s pants kind of life happening?  OR, was it assumed somewhere in our dim dark subconscious, that none of this would need the time and attention and planning to survive in what we call our lives because it’s what everyone else has done?

How we love to blame everyone but ourselves.  Surely it was not MY fault I am where I am?!!  IF I’d had the choice I’d have……done it differently?  Umm, you did have the choice!  You made it!  You can’t go back and change it.  Don’t dwell on it, LEARN from it!  AND!  Remember why the choice was made in the first place.  It was the right one at the time.

Everyone has a different story to tell and the path they took to get there is many and varied.  We’ve all been scared, angry, hurt, sad and felt hopeless.  It will pass but you must let it.  Experience the feelings, take your time but don’t take forever.  Don’t live and re-live past situations.  What’s done is done!  Move forward.  Empower yourself with information.  Be your own tower of strength.  Help yourself to move onwards and upwards each and every day.  The internet is an immense pool of information (a good portion of it incorrect so make your research vast reaching and varied in view point).  Talk to your elders – yes, contrary to the popular belief of the young, those older than us generally gather wisdom as they age (again, not everyone is wise or mature just because they are older than us).  Mix with a varied age-group and really HEAR what they are saying, listen between the lines if you will.

Be NICE.  To everyone, starting with yourself.  I don’t mean be nice to yourself by spending money on “things” or “experiences” either.  Don’t say mean things to yourself in your head.  Stop calling yourself stupid all of the time.  Don’t dwell on mistakes.  Apologise for wrong-doings immediately and from the heart.  Never say sorry if you don’t mean it.  Let the anger/fear/feelings pass, analyse the situation and then apologise with sincerity.  Sometimes we need to be the bigger person and apologise before others involved will return the sentiment.  BE the better person without resentment and then move on.

Don’t forget the good times.  You may have experienced a romantic relationship for years, decades even, that others never will.  Perhaps it has now ended, and ended badly (this is generally the way it goes unless you are Gwenyth Paltrow and Chris Martin who “consciously uncoupled”).  Keep in your angry little mind that not everyone is fortunate enough to have shared their lives with that one special individual they loved for years on end.  Some look for love for most of their lives, to share and build a life in partnership with another being.  We are after all is said and done, social beings.  We want to share and experience together.

As a never-been-married and childless individual, this is my bug-bear with people who can’t see what they once had.  They continue to live the ending of that relationship.  They take forward with them and imprint on future relationships that ALL men/women are terrible, horrible, only out to get my money or destroy my life people.  They are suspicious of everyone else’s motives, they never trust that the love they once had was pure and without judgement.  They make future partners prove themselves, yet did they enforce this on their original love/relationship?  What happened to that carefree, optimistic person?  Oh right!  They have let themselves be consumed and ultimately destroyed by what is just a normal, although unpleasant, life experience.  Do take what you have learned from your experience and apply it cautiously to your future endeavours but move on.  Oh my goodness!  I’ve never been married and I have offered up my opinion!  How dare I??!!

So let me speak of another view I have, even though I don’t have any myself.  If you have children from any relationship, then you as an adult, need now to realise that this is your life no longer.  Like a pet, just a much longer lasting (we hope) and more intricate relationship, it is your responsibility to feed, shelter and love that being.  It is your job to teach them how to get on in this world.  Set a good example for everything.  How to interact with people in a socially acceptable way – manners please!  Respect others and their property.  How to be financially smart.  How to be nice and kind.  How to observe and be open-minded, not judgmental and unwilling to accept that there are more ways to live than your own.  Show them!  They are not mind readers and nor are they born with the knowledge.  READ!  And read a lot.  Read diverse things.  Talk about diverse things.  Discuss options, don’t tell them how it is and must be.

Am I wrong just because I don’t have children?  Are my observations and opinions worth less than those who have kids?  Shoot me now.

Another of my pet peeves is people who complain about not having enough money to pay bills, feed their family, keep up with Kerry Packer.  Please!  I beg you!  Have a good hard look at what you spend your money on.  AND BE HONEST!!!!  Truly!  Do you need to wax your legs/armpits/bikini line/mustache every month ladies? No you don’t.  It is a financial privilege.  Buy coffee and or lunch everyday?  Another financial privilege.  Drive your car instead of taking public transport because you think it’s icky/smelly/inconvenient/beneath you?  Do you have the biggest and best TV (and more than one) because everyone else does and you think you just can’t live without it?  A subscription to Foxtel?  Ridiculous mobile must-haves, data allowances etc?  Holidays?  Do you have an addiction sending you broke?  Coffee?  Cigarettes?  Alcohol?  Porn?  Horse betting?  Pokies?  Drugs?  Sugar?  Internet shopping?

BE HONEST!  You don’t need any of these things.  Stop being so selfish and thinking you have to make everyone think you have the best life ever.  No one does.  By all means keep up your general appearance and health but don’t send yourself broke or into debt for it.  Most of us have had to work hard for and have fought for our financial freedom – in other words we pay our own way and don’t rely on family to keep us.  Only a very tiny portion of the population is born into money.  And most of us know, more often than not, these people don’t appreciate how difficult it can be to earn a dollar.  Do not lose sight of the fact that WE ARE ALL in similar boat.  Stop trying to live above your means.  No one else cares!  We’re all too busy trying to stop our own boats from sinking to notice your hairless arms and Chanel handbag!

Not to mention, what on earth do you think you are teaching your children??!  Show them how to cook healthy, cheap meals.  Let them look nice without paying hundreds or even thousands of dollars on branded items.  Teach them how to respect themselves and others by showing them how you talk to and interact with the people around you.  Kids are sponges and will parrot what you do and say.  Yep, all out of the mouth of a non-parent.  There I go again!

It doesn’t matter where you are in life, single, never married, purchasing your own house.  Married, shaked-up, with children, renting.  At some stage you have to make compromises and sacrifices.  This is part of being an adult.  We can’t live like Hollywood rockstars if we are not earning millions of dollars to pay for it.

So.  Go forth, be kind, appreciate the small joys in life and remember there is always someone worse off than you and that you are not the first person to ever go through whatever you are going through.  Don’t push away the help being offered because you are too egotistical and deaf to everyone but your own sorry-arsed self.  Do your best not to judge, belittle, patronise, hurt or maim anyone. We are all fighting the same battle.  Life.

ANZAC Day, 2017

Posted on by KMS234

ANZAC:  Australian and New Zealand Army Corps

Today is ANZAC Day.  April 25th.  Today is the day we remember our fallen soldiers and thank those who have returned from serving or are currently serving our country.

Today I feel ungrateful.  My life has been sheltered and peaceful.  I don’t know the horrors and anxiety that come with having  been in a warzone nor witnessed the atrocities that people are capable of.  I’m a coward.  Or at least I feel like one.

I am not ungrateful though.  I really do appreciate those people, some of them family, others friends, who have served in the armed forces.  In whatever capacity.  You stepped up and did what you could for peace in this world.  My peace.  My freedom.  So, thank you from the bottom of my heart.

Most days I go about my life, ignorant of the fact that there are currently many conflicts waging across the planet.  Not because I don’t care, I do, but because it’s not a part of my everyday life and never has been.  Yes I do deliberately avoid the news, it’s sad and depressing most of the time.  Part of the reason for this is self-preservation.  Preserving a certain amount of mental sanity.  Why drive myself into a state of distress over a situation that I as an individual cannot fix?  I feel like I can serve others best by supporting those closest to me on a person-by-person basis and being as kind and caring as possible to everyone I come in contact with.  Treat others as I wish to be treated.

There are many individuals within my group of family and friends, some I know of, others I don’t, that suffer any or all of the following conditions:  anxiety, depression & PTSD (and many other related afflictions I’m sure).  Not all of these people have served in the forces, most are everyday citizens like myself.  But regardless of how these conditions took root within the psyche of each person, I feel I can best help and support them by not joining their ranks if at all possible.  Not watching the news is a part of my defence system.  Avoiding conflict over politics, religion and money are others.  There’s enough anger in this world without me being apart of it.

Now, I know a lot of folk who may think I’m a bit cold and abrasive when discussing a sensitive topic like mental health.  That I appear not to take the emotional side onboard.  I do, but I do so at arms length.  I’m aware that I do this.  Some of the reason is because I don’t know what to say or how to say it, nor do I wish to offend or upset anyone.  I don’t want to look or sound like I KNOW what you are feeling because quite simply I don’t.  What I do want, is to UNDERSTAND as best I can and how I might best support you.

So here is what I really wanted to say today, please, please know, that if you have served your country and especially mine, Australia, and afforded me my freedom to live my life in peace and quiet (often misconstrued as ignorance), thank you.  I am ever so grateful and not ignorant at all, but as little as most people discuss their experiences at war, I too rarely discuss my experiences in peace.  And I like to think I do so out of respect.  I don’t want to rub salt in any wounds.

Admittedly I could do with remembering those that suffered and continue to suffer, more often than I do.  I won’t deny that.  So, please, if you wish to help remind me of how I am able to live with my freedoms, both physical and mental, then hit me up.  Or if you just fancy a chat, some company and a cuppa, give me a shout.

Anyone who knows me well, knows my tea drinking habits and let’s face it, my kettle is always on!  My door is mostly open whilst I’m at home and on the hunt for a job (that’s a blog for another day right there), so come on over and let’s have a cuppa and maybe if you’re lucky, a piece of cake if I’ve been cooking (advance notice required for gluten or dairy free).

 

 

 

Here comes Christmas!

Posted on by KMS234

How is it nearly Christmas 2016??!!  Where has the time gone?  I know I say this every year, but every year truly does seem to go by faster than the last.  Apparently my parents weren’t kidding.  The older you get, the faster life goes.

It’s been a year of change for me and at times seemed to drag, so I am quite surprised to find myself nearly at the end of it all, only to start another round next year of course.

I started this year still heartbroken and in the middle of marathon training.  At the peak of my training I began dating and was retrenched from my long-hated job.  The first half of the year was capped off with completing my first ever marathon and a much deserved holiday in China afterwards.

Upon my return home I began dating again.  I struggled though the time marking the year since “he” left and turned my world upside down.  It was tough.  I still have my rough days even now but mostly they are gone.

In August I had my arm twisted to run another marathon.  How could I say “no” to the following statement:  How often will you get the chance to run for your country, in your home town?  Who was I to argue with that?  Hand over the green and gold thanks!

So I did it.  I ran another marathon.  Two in one year.  Do you hear that screaming?  Me too!  MID LIFE CRISIS!!!   A forty-something, cat-owning, marathon-running, unemployed, single-but-dating female.

Classic.

And to top it off, the world around me has seemingly gone mad.  Donald Trump is going to be the president of the USA.  New Zealand (and now Japan) are being flattened by earth quakes.  My mum went to the physio for the first time AND got a  new mobile phone.  And count them, seven, SEVEN couples I have known for many years are splitting up.

Is it wrong for me to feel lucky to finally feel happy in myself?  Happy I don’t have to feel  the feelings of sadness, anger, anxiety, grief and hopelessness that these once happy couples are now facing?  I hope not.  I actually am glad to be over that stage for not just the obvious reasons but so that I am in a place where I feel I can support any of these friends if they need me to.  I’m pretty much back to my “rock” status.

The calm, self-assured, independent and confident (observed by others but I’m really faking it ’til I make it with that one) lady I once was.  Go me!

Unfortunately, the only smudge on the horizon is that I will need to get another job next year as I haven’t won lotto.  And the mortgage needs paying so the cat has somewhere to live.  Thankfully I feel I can face that challenge when it arrives now.

So I have a month until I head off for the silly season holidays, there’s Christmas presents to find and buy, a birthday or two as well, and plans to make for next year.  But I’m not stressing about any of it.  I am going to enjoy this Christmas with my family and friends.  Life will go on whether I worry about it or not.  So 2017 can wait.

Bring on Christmas (and the mistletoe!)!!

ps  If you have any gift ideas please leave in the comments below  😉

 

Why are we here?

Posted on by KMS234

Nowt so queer as folk!  Especially the 40-something, hormonal-swinging, unemployed, lonely, female variety.  That’s me I’m referring to.  Yep.  One minute I’m perfectly happy, rolling along, doing my own thing and tooting my own horn.  Then BAM!  I’ve lost that feeling of self-worth, no-one misses me, I’m sick and tired of being my own cheerleader and I need a hug.

If anyone has read the book The 5 Love Languages, it’ll make perfect sense when I tell you I’m a person who thrives on physical touch.  Fairly closely followed by receiving gifts.  Neither of which is abundantly available when you are single. So what’s a girl to do?  Well, she gets a massage or a facial, goes to the physio or chiro (painful options but touch none-the-less), goes to yoga (yogi’s tend to be a bit more touchy-feely types) and buys herself gifts (a.k.a.  retail therapy).

No I’m not romantically interested in my massage therapist, physio, chiro or yoga instructor, but it is touch enough that I feel validated as a person.  I exist.  And I am “loved” by these people (healers if you will).  Ridiculous I know.  It sounds bonkers to me even.  But isn’t this life?  Isn’t this why we’re here?

Perhaps originally we evolved as a simple species, just procreating and ensuring the survival of our bloodlines.  But then we grew smarter, we created tools, we learned to save the weaker of the species, we learned to speak and think for ourselves.  Have we gotten too big for our boots?

As an educated woman, one who has held down professional positions most of her working life, I now find myself without a job and plenty of time on my hands to think, a LOT.  I can mull things over, over-think things and generally get lost inside my own head, arguing in circles with myself about, well, everything.  Like, why are we here?  What is the point of life?  Were we really supposed to sit in tall concrete towers all day, beavering away at jobs that, let’s face it, most of us hate, most of the time?  Were we supposed to yearn to be the richest, smartest, most physically perfect beings?  Or were we just supposed to just ‘be’.  Be together.  Be happy.  Be satisfied with the basics.  Food.  Shelter.  Warmth.  Belonging.

Right now I don’t want to go back to the rat race.  I simply want to live.  To live side-by-side in peace with my fellow beings.  Specifically, I want to love and to be loved by another.  I don’t want to work at a job I hate in order to buy a big house and expensive things to attract a mate who strives to be the biggest and the best as well.  Just because everyone else is, doesn’t mean we all should.  And to what end are we doing this?  To conquer the world?  Oh please!  Life is not a competition, but we’ve sure as hell made it one!

I’ve reached a cross-road in my life and I’m feeling a bit lost.  I don’t want to compete anymore.  I want to be a part of a team.  I want to support and encourage another to achieve a worthwhile existence.  I want to be supported and loved and happy and healthy.  I’ve said before that I am happy in my own company, and I am.  But as the saying goes, no man is an island.  Or in the politically correct version, no person is an island.  We were never as a species supposed to live alone.

So today I feel like I need a hug.  My hormones are driving me bananas, I’ve had a few unexpected  feelings resurface about the past these last few days, I’m feeling unsure about where I’m heading in life and love.  And generally I feel unworthy of existing.  I observe everyone around me living busy, happy and fulfilling lives.  I’m not sure where I fit in at the moment.

Slightly depressing, yes.  But there’s a million different ways it could play out.  I might be proposed to tomorrow by a dying billionaire.  I might win lotto (if I ever buy that ticket).  I might be gifted a massive inheritance by a stranger (because I don’t want it to be one of my loved ones).  I might write a book that the world falls over themselves to buy.  I might find buried treasure.  I might become a world-famous chef.  I might design palace worthy gardens. I might find an occupation I love and make money out of it.  I might fall in love, with me, and then, maybe, just maybe, I might fall in love with a man who also loves me, for me.

And then………I might just get that hug I so desperately crave.  That’s why I’m here anyway.  How about you?

Position Vacant

Posted on by KMS234

So, anyone following this blog from the beginning will know I’ve had a big year.  From broken soul to a hopeful re-entry into ‘life’.  Marathons run, travels overseas, tentative first dates.  What I haven’t mentioned is the forced unemployment.  Nope!  No panic, it was quite the blessing in disguise.

You see, I was paid to leave a job that I had hated for nearly five years.  Thank you, thank you, thank you!  It was about two weeks before I left for China which suited me just fine.  It left me able to finish my training wherever and whenever I liked.  Perfect.

Yes I still have bills to pay but I have enough of a leeway for about a year – if I’m careful.  Nice!  This is after all perhaps the last chance I will get to have some time off before I retire.  Unless I win lotto in the mean time – and that’s never going to happen if I don’t buy a ticket. (note to self, buy lotto ticket)

So what have I been doing with my time since I’ve been back you may ask?  Checking out potential dates of course.  There’s an abundance of online dating sites and ample opportunity to spend all day, every day, chatting online to strange men.  And it’s with great mortification that I admit I may be addicted.

Addicted to finding love.  Again.  Which I guess is a good thing.  It means I’ve still got hope that I will one day find The One to share my life with.  So it is with high hopes but no expectations that I comb the online profiles for potential candidates.

Can any guy out there please tell me WHY you think a photo with your sunglasses on and not smiling is in any way supposed to attract a potential mate??  I don’t want to date someone who looks like a criminal, with or without sunglasses.  Just SMILE for heavens sake!  This is supposed to be fun. You’re supposed to be flirting.  Show me your best pearly-white grin and flash those eyes at me.  You can tell so much from a persons eyes.  Teeth?  Well, that’s a bit of a personal thing.  I like a decent set of knashers on a bloke.

There is a set of fellas though that will always do themselves a massive disservice by not having a profile picture at all.  Yes, it’s shallow judging each other by how we look, but it’s also a big part and parcel of who and why you fancy one person and not another.  It’s certainly not the be all and end all but it helps if you are physically attracted to someone.

Now I know I’m not everyone’s cup of tea.  And yes it is bitterly disappointing when you get turned down by someone you find attractive.  But it works both ways and in a pub or club they likely wouldn’t have held eye contact or come over to talk to you, so I can’t be disappointed if I don’t get a positive response from them online.

Likewise that bloke without the photo, or easy-to-see face shot with a smile, should NOT be offended if I am not interested in them.  These sans-photo gents often go hand-in-hand with a profile that is either not filled out at all, or offers minimal, or even untruthful information on the person.

Who do they think they are kidding??  Me?  Nah-ahh!  If they haven’t made an effort on their profile in order to attract a mate and I have, why should I take them seriously?  Am I supposed to be sucked-in by their mystique?   Am I supposed to be the one who carries the conversation by asking a thousand questions that could have been answered if they’d filled out their profile properly?  Is it a test to see if I’m going to judge them?  Well guess what, I AM JUDGING YOU.  We are judging each other.  That’s the whole point!  That’s why we’re here.  We are trying to find the perfect person to fill the (job) vacancy in our lives, partner for life.

Yes it’s a job interview.  Albeit with a few different selection criteria, but a position vacancy none-the-less.  Sure, there are going to be many different people that we could have a relationship with.  We could fit our lives together if we worked at it.  But for me, there needs to be some amount of natural ease with how I fit and feel with someone I intend to share my life with.  That’s not to say it would always be peaceful with no arguments or disagreements, no bad moods or times when one or the other of us would be walking on eggshells for a moment or two.  No relationship is perfect. But on the whole, the partnership should feel comfortable.

This is how I felt about my last relationship (obviously he didn’t and that’s evident in my previous blogs) and how I’d like to feel again.  I live in hope.  I scan the profiles with eager eyes.  Will I find ‘the one’ today?  Will I take one look into those eyes and feel the spark that everyone talks about?  Will he like me back?

It’s really all just a game.  One with which you have to take a pinch of salt – or an entire bucket if past experience serves.  You need a tough skin and a fabulous sense of humour.  Some days I know I can’t handle it.  I shouldn’t message people back if I’m going to be rude – which really is just telling it how it is, some people lack common sense and/or don’t think before they speak/write.  It’s a dance.  And some days I have two left feet.

It’s been a few days since I last looked for my love online.  The anticipation is building.  I wonder how long I will hold off?  Addiction can be a fickle thing.  Some days I can’t hold it back, yet on others, I have it beat!  As a woman I see these ebbs and flows coincide with my hormone fluctuations.  When I have my cranky-hormonal-pants on, woe betide any bloke who attempts to hit-me-up with a ‘hey sexy’ or ‘hi’ and nothing to follow, or no photo, or who has evidently not read my profile.  But catch me on a good day and there’s every chance I’ll be doing my darnedest to make that connection we all hope for.

What sort of day am I having today?  Well, let’s just say if you can string a sentence together using some basic grammar and have a smiley photo with a twinkle in your eye, hit me up!  Let’s make a date for an ‘interview’.

The Great Wall Marathon, 2016

Posted on by KMS234

From heartbroken to marathon runner!  I did it!  I can hardly believe it was over a month ago now.  How time flies.

So, it took a long seven and a half hours or there abouts.  Which to anyone who is not a runner probably sounds like a ridiculously long time to be running/jogging/walking/in motion on your feet.  It is I guess.  But it didn’t feel like it to me.  Time passed so quickly that day.

It was an early start after a slightly panic-y evening.  The lock on my suitcase refused to open even with the correct code.  Cue hotel concierge and his side-kick with a pair of bolt cutters.  All of my running gear was inside.  That was 7pm.  Dinner of a burger and chips from room service at 7:30pm and I was organised and in bed by 8:30pm.

3am the phone rings.  It’s time to get up.  We have to check out of our hotel by 4am and have breakfast and be on the bus by 5am.  I wasn’t hungry and my stomach was churning.  This isn’t so unusual for a lot of runners and totally normal for me.  But it was levels above what I am normally like before an event.  I had a piece of toast at the hotel and took a boiled egg with me.

We arrived at the start line at 6:30am.  First stop, the toilets.  Now, on inspection day I had sussed out the fact that the only permanent loos were squat toilets – no surprise there, I was in China after all.  And from the toilets I’d seen elsewhere, these were not that bad in the scheme of things.  So, I was ever hopeful I’d be able to get in the line for a porta-loo, those being ‘western’ and all.  Did anyone else know that porta-loos also come in squat form??!!!  SO disappointed!  None-the-less, when you’ve got to go, you’ve got to go and so I went.

Ablutions done, I wandered around the start area waiting for my time to run, 8am.  Naturally I was now STARVING HUNGRY.  I fished out my boiled egg and wolfed that down with some water and a gel.  That would have to do me until I finished now.  I opted not to pay a second visit to the toilets, a decision I would regret later on.

I found a guy I had befriended in the couple of days before the race, Tom, who was a good runner (he said) and had been lumped in my starting wave, much to his disappointment.  He had run some marathons before and was German.  Fair skin, strawberry-blonde hair and over six foot tall.  He reckoned he’d run it in around 4.5 to 5 hours……….this meant his normal marathon time would have been 3.5 to 4 hours – pretty damn quick in my terms!  I was only looking to finish within the 8 hour time cutoff.  I’d never run a marathon before this.  He said he’d wait for me at the finish line, but given the buses were leaving every half hour from midday, I told him not to wait, I’d be hours behind him.

So finally, after a long morning and nervous wait, we were at the starting line and the gun had gone off.  Time to run!

I was in China.  On the Great Wall.  Running my first ever marathon.  I was determined to enjoy this day for all it was worth.  I was not disappointed.

What an experience it was.  The locals lined the street that lead out of the starting square (Yin & Yang Square – see link http://albatros-adventure.com/great-wall-marathon  for a full course description).  There were people clapping and shouting and cheering us on.  There was flag waving (I saw a lot of Chilean flags – go figure) and high-fiving.  I can’t count how many high-fives I got in that first kilometre.  It was fabulous and so encouraging.

Which was good because those first five kilometres were up hill.  Ugh!  Never my favourite, but what goes up must come down right?!  And that was the bit I was looking forward to the most.  Coming down the infamous ‘goat track’ part of the Great Wall which leads back down to Yin & Yang Square.  Imagine my disappointment then when I finally get to the super-steep, straight up and down, not normal stair-bit of the goat track and find it clogged with people at a stand-still!  I sulked for a nano-second, but knowing full well I couldn’t do anything about it, I just decided to enjoy the view and take a few photos while I had the chance.

Finally at the bottom of the wall a full 2 hours after starting the race and 7 kilometres along the 42km course, I was able to get into a more regular running rhythm.  This was more like it.  By now it was 10 o’clock in the morning and heading for 30 degrees Celsius for the day.   It was HOT!  I was carrying a full 2 litres of fuel & electrolyte fluid in my hydration pack and about 8 gels (one for every hour).  The water stations where approximately every  2-3 kilometres apart and good job they were!  I took two bottles at every opportunity.  One to drink and one to tip on my head, hat, neck and by the end of the race, everywhere I could get it. I was absolutely dripping at the finish line, whether there was more sweat than water is anyone’s guess.

At around 12 kilometres a young girl popped out of the crowd with open arms……..she got the hottest, sweatiest hug I think she’s ever had!  If she wanted one, who was I to deny her??  I gave my autograph to another young girl at around 15 kilometres, another unusual happening that day.  These locals really did seem to enjoy seeing these crazy foreigners running some ridiculous distance around their villages, all in the name of fun.

Somewhere between my hug and my autograph I popped behind an abandoned building for a super-fast toilet stop.  And boy am I glad I did.  I heard a couple of stories afterwards of people running in adult nappies (really?!!) or stopping at some local village loos (not recommended).  Give me a bush any day!

The middle part of the marathon was out and around some villages on mostly bitumen road.  Pretty mundane but great for chatting to fellow runners and listening to my tunes.  Picture if you will, me jogging on the dusty side of a road somewhere in rural China, hot and sweaty, bopping along to and singing songs like:  Shoop Shoop Diddy Wop Cumma Cumma Wang Dang (by Monte Video and the Cassettes), MMMbop (Hansen), Step by Step (NKOTB), Dancing Queen (ABBA), Magic (Coldplay), I Bet My Life (Imagine Dragons), I’m Still Standing (Elton John), Running (Evermore), Cheyenne (Jason Derulo), Roar (Katy Perry)……..you get the picture, a varied and diverse selection.  Hopefully no one heard me singing……I guess if they had, they’d have thought me delirious from heat exhaustion or something.

From about 18 kilometres onward I watched my time like a hawk.  Calculating and re-calculating how long it would take me to reach the square again.  At this point, about 32km, there was a cut-off at 2pm.  If I didn’t make it back before then, I was not going to be allowed to finish the race.  At 1:30pm I passed back through the gate – hooray!  All I wanted was something to eat though!  I have never been so hungry in all my life!  I’m sure I could have chomped on my sandwich as I re-climbed the wall (the goat track in reverse this time).  But I persevered.  I knew it would be a tough slog up those steps, but one foot in front of the other up I went.  The last 5km downhill run was the best.  Yes my legs were tired but just knowing I was going to finish this race was more than enough to keep me running and smiling down that hill.  I passed a lot of other runners, many who had decided to walk the last bit.  I had found my second wind and went with it.

Two kilometres from the finish line I heard a song that reminded me of ‘him’.  The reason I was here.  Why I was running this amazing and spectacular race.  It nearly brought me to tears.  Nearly.

As I ran through the gate into the square for the last time that day, I heard my name called in full, followed by AUSTRALIA.  I felt like I was at the Olympic Games!  It was awesome!  I burst into tears and bawled my way over the line.  I was DONE!  Aussie, Aussie, Aussie.  Oi, Oi, Oi!!  This was called out several times as I crossed the line and was handed my medal.  I was also given a great big hug from the lady handing them out.

Then I nearly got bowled over by Tom who had indeed waited to see me finish and gave me a tremendous hug and a high five.  And a massive “You did it!!”.  I felt like a champion.  I did do it!  For the record, Tom did it in around five and a half hours, I think.

Not once did I ever feel like giving up.  Not once did my body ‘hit the wall’ like I was told it would.  Sure, my quads were burning, especially on the final ascent up the goat track, in fact at that point I was the burn, I was ON FIRE!  I loved every hot and exhausting minute of this marathon.  The only thing I did suffer was one single blister on the middle toe of my right foot.  The same place I always get a blister.  Apparently it doesn’t matter what brand of shoe I wear, or how far I run.  At 5km I’m just as likely to get that blister as I am doing 42km.  Go figure.

And!  And, I even passed a rhino.  Yes you read that correctly.  There were two fellows running the full marathon in rhino suits.  Full body, fibreglass, rhino suits.  My aim when I saw them depart that morning, was to see if I could pass one on the run.  I did.  At 30ish kilometres, I passed Brad the rhino.  They were South Africans raising money to save the white rhino.  Good on you blokes!  My hat off to you.  It was tough enough in normal running get-up.

So.  If you’re still with me here, one, thank you and two, go run a marathon!  It is life changing.  It’s such a clique but it’s true.  Maybe not a marathon if you’re not a runner.  Just something you never thought you’d do.  Perhaps compete in something at your local gym, or at a national or international level.  Climb a mountain.  Jump out of a plane.  Get out of your comfort zone.  Test yourself.  Push your boundaries.

China itself was always going to be a challenge for me, even without the marathon.  It was never on my list of countries to visit. But, wow.  I was more than pleasantly surprised by this beautiful country.  The people are so friendly and there is so much to see.  I will not be surprised to find myself back there one day.  Probably running some marathon or other.  😉

So what now?  Back to real life for a while I think.   A bit of running.  Back to the gym and yoga.  Back to dating – oh God help me……

Right now though, I will leave you with this.

I.  AM.  A.  MARATHON.  RUNNER.

F*** you heart-breaker!  I did it.  You did not break me and nor did the marathon.

Marathon training is HARD!

Posted on by KMS234

How does anybody actually do this regularly??  My body is aching, all the time.  Everything between bellybutton and knees, Hurts!  Yes with a capital H.  And I am doing this voluntarily?  I must be stark raving mad.

Marathon training is socially crippling and lonely.  My social life consists of running events, work and a quiz night once a week.  Oh, and rubbish telly programs.  My recorded shows are starting to build up as bed time is earlier these days – not that it was ever that late.  Now though I don’t even have time to watch them on the weekend because I’m either running or recovering from running (i.e.  sleeping).  Yep, nothing like a three hour long nanna nap.  The body does most of its recovering during sleep, I for one, am not going to risk injury due to lack of sleep.  Well, that’s my excuse and I’m sticking to it.

Meals are easy or pre-planned with loads of protein, veg and carbs.  Oh how I love thee carbs!  I can’t get enough of peanut butter and jam on toast at the moment.  And potatoes, be they masquerading as chips (hot or the packet variety – crisps, if I must), gnocchi, croquettes or just the humble spud, mashed or baked.  YUM.

The scales are showing a small increase but nothing to worry about since I lost so much at the start of my emotional roller-coaster.  That, and I need something to fuel my marathon.  And it never hurts to have something to hang your pants on either.

My physiotherapists clinic feels like home away from home.  I not only see my physio there, but also my chiropractor and I attend Pilates classes also.  My remedial massage therapist is like family but my gym must certainly feel like I’m deserting it of late.  Or at least taking the piss a bit.  I only go there to stretch and roll out my kinks or use the treadmill.  Crossfit has fallen by the wayside.  Yoga is my current favourite.  It hurts but it’s so, so worth it.  I have also discovered something called Speedfit which is amazing.  20 minutes of Speedfit is like spending hours in the gym weight lifting – and feels like it too!  I couldn’t sit down for three days after my first session my glutes hurt so much.  Squats anyone?!

So I’m getting there.  Currently I am in week 15 of a 20 week training schedule.  Not bad for a novice.  I’ve not sustained any injuries that have kept me from running, yet.  I am avoiding anyone who coughs or sneezes within a 50 metre radius (yes I’ve had my flu vaccination).  I am determined to get to the start line uninjured and healthy.  Ready and raring to go.

My long runs are now no shorter than 20km.  This is mind-boggling to say the least.  When did I become the girl who formed and spoke sentences like:

“I only have to run 15/18/20km today.”

That’s insane.  I used to think 5km was an amazing effort.

The coming weekend my training schedule calls for a 29km run (that’s about 18 miles for anyone using the old system).  I am scared to say the least.  It will take me about three and a half hours, likely more, to complete this.  My legs hurt just thinking about it.

Last weekend though I found a way to keep myself going when I hit that mental wall of wanting to quit.  I bargained with myself, just down this hill, to the next street light, finish this kilometer………and then I discovered the REAL, I don’t know, distraction?  Joy?  Passion?  Motivation? in mentally writing my blog/post when I finished the actual marathon.  When I crossed that line, how would I feel?  What would I say to family or friends if they were there?

Here’s how I reckon it will go down.  Firstly I have a sneaking suspicion I will burst into tears.  Tears of overwhelming relief of having finished.  Tears of joy from having accomplished something so incredible I never imagined I could have done it.  Tears of pain (imagining blisters, cramps, headaches and just generally feeling like I’ve been run over by a three car road-train).  And tears of anger, grief and emotional hurt of what drove me to do this in the first place.

Fuck you!  That’s what I’ll say.  Fuck you for breaking my heart and for taking a piece of it you do not deserve to have.  Fuck you for breaking my spirit and self-belief. FUCK YOU I DID IT WITHOUT YOU!  Not that I thought I couldn’t, but that I didn’t want to.

I guess there’s still a bit of anger left in me………!  But if that’s what will get me through, then that’s what I’ll use.  I will NOT be beaten by a marathon.  I just won’t.

It will be hard, but hard is not impossible.

 

Onwards and Upwards.

Posted on by KMS234

Let the games begin.

Dating in 2016.  Oh boy!  I’d forgotten how daunting this was.  The studying of profiles, making sure you know the basics (if they’ve not lied about them!  Yes, it happens.)  A bit like preparing for a job interview.  And in a way it is.  You’re essentially interviewing a person to see if they fit the ‘job vacancy’ in your life.

There’s the family background to get around, the current family/living situation, children (if any), last relationship endings and when, world travels, schooling, work – past and present………the list is endless.

How much can you glean from their profile alone and should you ask for more details before you meet?  How involved do you want to get before you lay eyes on someone for the first time?  If they’re good looking (in whatever why that is for you – everyone is different) you might instantly take to them and you may want more backstory from them to build them up in your imagination.  Fair enough, but dangerous.

What if when you meet they suddenly fall-short of your expectations for one reason or another?  How disappointing that can be (yes I’ve been there and done that).  But my curious nature demands that I know partially what I might be getting into before I decide to meet them.  Mostly I’m looking for things I know I can’t live with; abusive to a former partner (not that they’re likely to tell you); no children or pets and hates them, a criminal record (major not minor like locked in the clink for drunk and disorderly or shop lifting at age 15), stuff like that.  I don’t care how many times you’ve been married, in my age group it is at least once if not twice.  I’m good with that.  It at least proves that you are willing to try to commit.

So.  I’ve done it.  I bit the bullet and went on a few dates.

Three very different guys, three very different personalities (at least no one can accuse me of sticking to a ‘type’!)  One very shy and reserved, one vivacious and quick to smile, the third a thinker but not too serious (thank goodness).  What a way to practice my social skills once again.  Thank you to those gentlemen for your presence and attention for the hour or more that we shared.

For a fortnight after those dates I went back into my shell and turned a blind eye to men.  Meeting new people had opened the old wounds slightly, let in the self-doubt and let out the self-love.  Oh how I cried before that very first date.  Why?  A thousand reasons and feelings and emotions.  If you’ve been there yourself, you’ll know what I’m talking about.  If you haven’t, count yourself lucky.

Another month on again and the world is my oyster.  I spent an exhausting and confusing Friday evening messaging five different guys.  This I do not recommend.  Not only can you wind up asking someone a question about something they don’t do (one kind soul chose to ignore me when I asked what he was studying at uni……….because he doesn’t study anything at uni!  Seriously!  What a blonde I am.)  But you can end up with several dates, all of whom have piqued your interest in one way or another and what the hell happens when you’ve met all three and liked them all equally??!!  No can do.

Multi-dating is not my thing.  I like to give one person my full attention until I decide one way or the other if we will see each other again or not.  Then only if we are not meeting again will I call up the next guy.  Yep, there’s the possibility of someone dropping off your radar while he waits for you to decide on the first guy.  And perhaps that second guy is ‘the one’, what then?  Well, it’s all about timing.  Some call it fate.

Well, if it is fate, then I leave myself in your hands.  Cue first ‘serious’ date of 2016.  Yes I’ve built him up in my mind slightly.  Yes there is an initial attraction from the photos I’ve seen.  But borrowing some words he said to me recently, I am going in with ‘no expectations but high hopes’.

So much for using marathon training as a distraction………..the chance of finding future love has got to be by far the biggest distraction ever in the human race – am I wrong?   With a bit of luck, planet alignment, fate and genuine human connection, I may find a new future love just the distraction to get me through my marathon training – because right now I am wondering how on earth does anyone ever survive such a grueling schedule and body beating??!!!

I hurt.  But finally, in a good way.