love

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

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.

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.

Love, at what cost?

Posted on by KMS234

Another month on and I’m tired.  I’m emotionally beaten and physically exhausted.  I’ve been on an emotional roller-coaster for five months now and have been using exercise to try and alleviate some of that pain and to make me sleep – except that it’s not working.

There’s still a gaping hole in my day/life/self/heart.  One that I keep seeing Christmas presents for.  Feel the absence of at festive gatherings.  Long to share my daily stories with.  Touch and hold at night in bed.  See smile and hear laugh.

But the house is quiet.  The ghost of memories everywhere.  And Christmas is coming.  I had thought earlier in the year that maybe, just maybe, we might visit his family in the UK for it.  I had picked out presents for he and his daughter.  I was happily imagining our day together.  Now everything about Christmas is just a horrible reminder that he left me.  And the cycle of self questioning and berating begins again.  And again.

Well meaning friends ask if I’m dating again yet.  My mum is trying to set me up with a farmer from a far-flung tiny island off the coast half a country away.  It’s too soon!  Please stop it!  He might have a new girlfriend already but I can’t even begin to think about seeing someone else.  Yes I’m lonely and sad, but how would that be fair in any way, shape or form to date someone new when I know full well I would be comparing them to him and my attention and heart are still with him?

Not to mention I have lost my trust in people and my judgment in character.  I doubt myself at every turn.  I doubt everyone around me.  Are they genuinely happy to talk to me?  Are they really happy or are they pretending?  Will they suddenly leave me without saying why?

Another annoying thing is all the sayings that get around, the one we all know goes something like this:
If you love someone, set them free.  If they come back, they are yours to keep.  If they don’t, it was never meant to be.

Or something along those lines.  And:
What doesn’t kill you, only makes you stronger.

Uggh!  Yes, my head knows I deserve better and that he doesn’t deserve an ounce of my energy or time thinking about him or wanting him back.  But my heart, my heart is another story altogether.

I’m angry.  I’m sad.  I love him.  I hate him.  I want him back.  I don’t want to see him again.  I want to hug him.  I want to beat him to death.  I want to talk like friends again.  I want to scream and yell at him.  I want an apology.  I want an explanation.  I want to know if he thinks about me at all.  I want to know if he hurts like I do.  I want to know if he thinks he made the biggest mistake of his life.  I want to stop feeling these things.  I want to be numb.  I want to let him go.  I can’t let him go.

I see the type of car he drives, everywhere.  I am surrounded by happy couples.  People my age who have been married for years, sharing a life they built together.  They may not be blissfully happy all of the time, but they work together to be happy together.  Why can’t I have this?  Where did I go wrong?

Yes, timing is everything.  But can my timing have been all that bad?  I’m 42.  Never been married.  I don’t live at home or even in the same city as either of my parents.  I support myself, have done since I left home.  I’m financially secure.  I have almost always been in full-time work.  I’m a nice person.  I’m pretty enough.  I’m not dumb.  Why don’t I deserve to share my life with someone?

Am I destined to be every blokes “rebound” girl?  My nice nature allowing them to use me to “heal” themselves before finding another girl to settle down with.  A girl who doesn’t know their past sad lost selves?  One they can tell their modified version of their life journey to?

I read something the other day about how to explain what I’m feeling if I were talking to a man.  It goes like this:
Imagine you, a man, had been working on a project at work, an important one, a career changing one.  Now imagine all the overtime you put in, the long nights, missed social engagements, missed meals, times you thought it would all fail, the arguments had and the sleepless nights.  It’s finished now but someone else comes sweeping in and takes credit for it.  ALL of it.  No word about you at all.
This is how I feel.  I’ve worked long and hard, not all of it pleasant, on my relationship with you.  Then you go and share yourself with some other girl.  No word of thanks, nothing to show for my efforts.

I longed to see you smile again and did everything in my power to support you when you were down.

Are all men like this?  Or is it just the ones I date?  Am I too nice for my own good?  Do I want too much?  Am I asking for the impossible?  To share my life with someone I love?

I know I have a good life.  I have a job, food on the table, good health,  a roof over my head, loved by my family and friends.  But right now, I don’t want to be me.

I’m broken and sitting at my rock-bottom.  The hole is deep and dark.  There’s a glimmer of light way at the top and I’ve no idea how to begin my climb out.  It seems such a long way to the top.  I’ve climbed out  before, time and again, but I’m tired now.  Tired and sad to my core.

I am too difficult to love?

 

I miss him, I need a hug.

Posted on by KMS234

Human touch.  This is one of the things I miss the most now that I am single.  A simple hug can go a very long way to helping me feel less alone.  Happier perhaps.

It’s been three months since my last proper hug (with my ex as he left the house for the final time).  I need desperately to just fall into a warm, loving embrace and bawl my eyes out (preferably in his arms).  But my family all live clear on the other side of the country and my best friend does too.  I have some good friends here where I live, but none close enough that I feel comfortable really letting go in front of.

The first month after he left, I spent everyday fighting back tears at work, on the bus, in the shops, while I was running.  Everywhere.  I cried myself to sleep every night and even woke myself up crying some nights.

The second month was slightly easier.  I managed most days to put on my professional face and I was fine at work.  I got really good at lying when anyone asked how I was.  I cried on the bus home and once I closed the garden gate behind me of an afternoon the flood gates really opened.

The third month has been hit and miss.  I have even managed a couple of days with no tears at all.  But mostly there are tears at some point during the day – a song on the radio might trigger a memory, a nice person asking how I am going, sometimes nothing in particular will set me off.

Each waking moment (and even in my dreams) I am constantly nagged by his memory.  I carry out tasks at work but always with him in the back of my mind.  There is a feeling I have of a gaping hole in my life, it’s always there.  Wherever I go, whatever I’m doing.  Activities that he would have enjoyed (and I would have very much enjoyed doing with him) are the hardest.  He is a personal trainer and we trained together.  Fitness activities are sometimes too hard to face for me now.  I freak out when I sign up for a race, what if he’s there too?  What if I see him?  I just know I’d dissolve in a puddle of tears.

The biggest reason for my tears and sadness is this, I don’t know why he left me.  I thought we were good together.  Sure we had our moments, no couple is perfect, but I thought we were pretty perfect.  He was gentle, kind, funny (oh so funny), sensible with money, house-trained (cooked well, did the washing, cleaned, fixed stuff…etc), grown-up but not old, affectionate and gave some of the best hugs I’ve ever had.

Now I get to go home to an old, cranky cat (perhaps I should say a cat with attitude – cattitude!) who doesn’t like being patted much, certainly won’t sit on my lap and a cuddle, well let’s not even mention the thought!  So I have no one to hug and no one to talk to outside of work.  Work is not a “chatty” place either.  Socialising in work hours is definitely discouraged.  I also work with mostly men, over 55 and all have been married for decades.

I feel so very alone.  Abandoned.  Directionless.  Lost.  Unloved.

Now I know none of that is really true.  My family and friends have stayed in touch with me more often than they did before he left.  I know they love me.  The problem is, HE doesn’t love me anymore.  Or perhaps he never did.  “I knew it wouldn’t work out between us from the start”  he said.  Right.  Well.  Thanks for ……..pretending for two years?  Was this just a parting shot to get me to hate him?  To make him feel better about leaving?  Does he really just hate me?

Devastated.  Shattered.  Broken.

Why?  Why won’t he tell me why he left me?  Why didn’t he tell me he was unhappy?  Why, why, why???

Yet I still crave another hug from him.  No you should never rely on other people for your happiness, but when you love someone they become that happiness.  The things we did for each other.  The little things you tell each other about your day.  The cuddles in the morning and hugs after a long day at work.  The future plans you have together that you’ve schemed up and saved for.  When they are suddenly taken away from you then yes, your happiness is taken away too.

I’m sorry this is such a ramble.  It makes no more sense as a mass of written words than it does in my head.  These are the conversations I have in my head everyday.

This is why I don’t hug my good friends and fall apart.  They’d think I was a complete fruitloop and run away screaming (if they had any sense what so ever).  So in the interest of keeping some friends in my life I’m dumping my minds wanderings here.  Maybe someone will read it, maybe not.  It doesn’t matter.

But if you see me, I need a hug.

Where to from here?

Posted on by KMS234

So I’ve been reading a friends blogs on here recently and even though I don’t know her very well, everything she has written about her experiences of late, resonates with me quite deeply.

We’re about the same age and working in the same industry.  Well, we were up until she quit her job last month.

By her own admission, and my own observations & knowledge of her significant other, her financial and emotional support systems are very solid and well enough to allow her to take this well deserved and needed break from the working masses.  Me?  Not so lucky.  Single – very recently so and the major reason for this blog – and paying off a hefty mortgage.  No dependents, which is a bonus of sorts.  Unless you count my 16 year old cat….?  I hate my job.

I guess I’m writing this blog today as a way of “speaking” to my ex-partner.  I know if I were to write it to him directly I’d get the same old lines we’ve all heard before………..I’m sorry;  time will lessen the pain;  it’s not you, it’s me;  you deserve better……..things I know, things that are probably true, but things that HURT.

Let me back this story up three months:  It’s a normal Monday night, he’s had a phone interview for a very prospective job.  It’s 9:30pm-ish.  We’ve had dinner and he’s prepared for his interview and spoken to them for 45 minutes or so (from the US).  I’m watching telly when he comes back into the lounge to tell me about his interview (or so I thought).  After a couple of minutes telling me about the interview he says “….and now for the difficult bit…”    It flashed through my mind that the job must entail a significant stint in the US and we would have to be apart for a good few months or longer.  Nope.  “I”m moving out on Friday”  is what he said.

Hold the boat!  WTF?!  Where did that come from??

Call me naive, but I didn’t see that coming.  The “reasons”  (I like to call them excuses) range from; I need to sort my head out, I need some space, I hate the cat, your mother is too pushy about marriage, you earn more money than me and I don’t want to be seen as a gold-digger, you deserve better, you’re so positive and I’m too negative………..you name it, I think I’ve heard it.  Everything except any REAL reason.

If the real reason is unknown, and let’s face it, mid-forties we all wonder what it’s all about and where we’re all going.  Why not say;  I need some time and space to sort myself out, discuss the future and find myself/some direction………anything that’s the truth and not just some lame excuse?

The man and his 15 year old daughter had been living with me for a year, we knew each other for a year before that.  We had invested time and energy in discussing our future travels together (a year or more driving around Australia after his daughter had left school and settled at work or uni).  We’d started an account to finance this.  We fit together as a family, we had routines, social lives and fitness goals that linked together really well.  I was in the best relationship of my life.  It made sense.  I saw myself growing old with this man.  He’s funny, loving, romantic (although he’d never admit it!), trustworthy, faithful and so supportive.  But communication is obviously not his strong suit.

Now I’m a smart lady, but I’m not skilled in the art of mind-reading.  If you don’t tell me, I won’t know!  And I also think I’m a decent judge of character.  Just where and when did I get hood-winked??!!  Am I so desperate to make the rest of my life perfect above and beyond this job I hate that I misjudged this man?  Am I so desperate for love I will take the first thing on offer?

No, no, no!!  I am 42.  I have never been married.  I have no children.  I have a couple of significant failed relationships under my belt.  I had been on-line dating for four years.  I’m happy in my own company, or at least I used to be.  I have been in full-time work for about 18 years.  I have a mortgage and no other debts.  I’m not an idiot.  I hate confrontation but  will discuss rationally, anything in question.  I have nothing to hide.  I am also under no illusion that life or people are perfect.

So in one fleeting instant I lost my heart, I lost the love of my life, I lost my future, I lost my little “family” and I lost myself.

And where does this fit in with my friend the original blogger?  She and I have one thing in common at the very least, neither of us know what is next.  Where are we headed?  There has to be more to life than working for years on end with little or no enjoyment until we are retired and likely too old and decrepit to make the most of our time and physical capabilities.

I envy her situation and chance to stop work and sit back and evaluate the life she and her partner are living.  But in her doing so, she started a blog, a blog that rings true for me on a lot of levels.  It’s cathartic to write stuff down.  It gets it out of my head for a while.  There will still be tears.  Lots of them.  Tears of sadness, tears of loss, tears of frustration, tears of anger.  One day I hope there will be tears of happiness.

For now though, even though it’s 99% unlikely to happen, I wish with all my heart (because I’m so positive and optimistic) that my love will see the light, change his mind, come back to me and we will fall in love all over again.  I will always have hope in my heart because that’s what keeps me alive.  My head tells me to “get real” but there always has to be hope.  Even just a little, tiny bit.

So, where to from here?