So now that I’m single, thirty, doubting my ability to survive on my own, and yet free for the first time in my life ever, I need to remember that I want to:

-have at least one 1 night stand

-figure out how to use tinder

-go for figure skating lessons at least once!

-earn 30k pm net

-save my first mil

-publish a couple of coloring books

-meet new random people

-have fun

-laugh a lot

-attend a trance party and dance at it!

-embrace my curves & learn how to dress them

-quit smoking

-do an overnight hike

-go rock climbing in nature

-do fun wonderful adventurous activities without a care in the world

-do first belly dance show..

I get it now. You held up a mirror, showed me exactly what I wanted to see.. That’s why you were perfect, that’s why we were soulmates, that’s why we were worth it… We were worth everything, because I needed a fantasy to believe in and you let me believe that it was you.

And what you got was someone so desperate to keep the fairytale from falling apart that she would take whatever you dished out, do whatever you wanted as long as the fairytale never ended…

I feel… Astonished. I feel… Winded. You used all my best qualities against me so skillfully…. Willed naivety will never ever be a choice for me. Ever again. I accept the part I had to play. I forgive myself. It was so hard… I was so desperate. I really feel for me… But you… I feel nothing… You I only feel you in the scars on my soul that I discover more of each day. I only feel you in the bloody wounds that I filled with poppy seeds. The flowers are blooming now but they drip with blood, my blood… It hurts. I feel you in the ice cold hands that try to suffocate me every night… Keep my lungs from filling up with the air I need to live from. I feel you… In the gaping hole that sits where once my shy emerging femininity had been… I feel you inside of me. But as for feeling for you. I feel nothing, because you are nothing aren’t you? You were never a human being, just a mirror of what I wanted to see… A void I could dissapear inside of. But I was not supposed to leave you.. Alive… Was I?

“the desire of a man is for his woman
the desire of a woman is for the desire of her man”
I couldn’t agree more Jack…

https://wp.me/p3FO3w-7it

It’s been about 19 days since I grabbed my Id, my wallet and an Uber and left you… And I’m only now starting to realise how fucked up this situation is… Was. . Is? Time is not reality. Neither am I. Neither were you. You see the cracks were always there, whispering around the corner, visible on a smooth surface. You could taste it in the bitterness of the apples that we kept around the house… But I told you no… No bitterness here. No cracks no whispers… Just dream. Dream. We can live in dreams, live on dreams. Who needs water? I miss you. Or do I miss the though of you? Or do I miss the illusion of you? Or do I miss my slightly skewed perception of you??? See, I needed a prince. And you were it. Without a prince I would never escape the witches castle, never, ever dream of becoming a person…. But you weren’t a prince were you? Or innocent either? You can blame all of this on me and a lot of it is my fault, the fault of my desperation of my unwillingness to see reality, of my need to never ever be alone… But not all of it. It takes a special type of person to see a desperate girl, on the verge of death, needing just one prince… and think… I don’t much like that but I could work with that. I don’t even know what you thought, but how could you? How could you?

It was easy for you to hit me. It was easy for you to yell and scream and belittle me. You enjoyed breaking me down and controlling me in every single imaginable way possible. You had to restrain yourself from hurting me sometimes because it felt so good. Is that the real story? Why were you so nice to me way back when? Why did you take such good care of me? Was it really just to lure me in? Or were you desperate just like me, in pain just like me in need of a person to rescue who would rescue you? What happened? What really happened? Please tell me because I don’t know.

It was a glorious day in March 2020. My marriage was well and truly on the rocks. Actually it was more already past the rocks, broken down by rough tides and violent winds, thrown against the sharp edges of rocky reefs, drowned my copious amount of unending tears and was now laying at the bottom of the ocean, decaying, everyday becoming a more painful more dangerous more distant memory.

It had been two weeks since my husband had called my dad to inform him of my (in his mind) fragile state of mental health and his suspicion that all that was left to do with me was to have me locked up in an institution and throw away the key… Like Alice in Wonderland without the Wonderland and without the happy ending…

It had been more than a year since he first layed hands on me. More than a year since I’ve discovered that he wouldn’t hesitate to beat and physically hurt me when and if he needed to. It had been about 6 years since the very bad shouting, intimidation, psychological and emotional abuse had started, but only about 4 weeks since I had opened my eyes to it.

It had been 1 day since I had visited the police station to hand in a 6 page affidavit detailing the statement of the mental, psychological and emotional trauma this man has caused me. One day since I’ve expressed my wishes to the police that I would like them to open a case of harassment, Intimidation, invasion of privacy and common assault (common because I did not end up in hospital). It was also 13 years since that man had taken me outside, held me close beneath the full moon and asked me if I would be his forever. 4 years since I had reaffirmed my commitment to him at a small picnic wedding ceremony in a public nature reserve and 8 hours since the last time I had cried about him…

That day I had attended a business meeting with a remarkable outcome. I had celebrated our business success with my business partners over coffee and croissants (the same business partners that had watched me close the last business meeting the precious day just before midnight in tears, broken down to a whisper.. .

It had been 4 hours since my dad, who since becoming aware of the incident had been following me everywhere himself to make sure I am safe, had dropped me at the golf club where the business meetings were held.

And at that moment I wanted nothing more than just a taste of freedom. He had promised me he would destroy me and everything and everyone I loved… And at that moment it definitely felt like he was in more ways than one succeeding… I hadn’t tasted any freedom since the in incident. And when I thought of it just then I remembered a place and a person.

The place was a nature reserve with a hill and picnic area that overlooked the whole of the city, the ocean and the mountains. It was a place where one could become whole again..

The person was a man who had come into my life by accident and at the time I had needed it the most. He had been so nice to me… Never judging, criticizing, hurting, or wanting anything from me. He was a person that I could be myself with without fear….

I took an Uber to the place and invited the person to meet me there.

The place was as I had remembered it but even more breathtaking. The person was as I had remembered his but even more beautiful, even less judgemental…

We had sex I the park, underneath the blue sky whilst the wind was playing with our skins. We were just two consenting adults looking for something and nothing from each other all at the same time in a beautiful park under a very blue sky. I lost myself in him, in his loveliness, in his closeness. For those moments all I focused on was him and the park and the sensations his touches caused in my body.

When we were done I kissed him and thanked him, put on my pants, had one last smoke, studied the bruises I had accidentally caused myself where my skin had come into contact with the rough terrain around us… And expressed that I had fun.

It was such a fun this to do. It was such a free and beautiful thing to do. I shouldve felt guilty towards my ex-husband, but I didn’t. I shouldve felt head over heels in love with the person I was with but I didn’t. I just felt immensely calm, exceedingly grateful and ready to proceed with life.

I thought I would always love you. I never thought you could hurt like this. The house… It’s empty, full of broken promises… Your scars on my skin they burn me like fire. At the same time I hate you and I’m thankful for having met you. You said you would destroy me and everything I love. Is that true? Only time will tell how much you’d like to hurt me… Kick me when I’m down… I’ll only get up stronger. I’ll make you whish you never left…

First week of divorce…

My sweetheart, you were my first love, my only love. I hate loving you and I love hating you.

My darling I would’ve jumped over the moon for you. I would’ve picked out the stars myself if this would put the sparkles back in your eyes. I would’ve done every single thing under the sun for you.

Why did it have to be like this?

Your love turned to hate so fast. Each breathe I take hurts. Each song is a memory. Each touch is torture. Each memory is painful. I loved sweetheart. I love you still. My heart aches for you. I want to hold you and tell you everything is going to be okay. I want to love and have you forever and always. The truth is everything will never be okay again. Goodbye darling. I wish you well. All the best for you. Just by the way I really did love you.

Relationships confuse the shit out of me. I mean… Emotions, feelings and thoughts are already a bit higher grade for me… But now to have to consider someone else’s “things” and to be able to understand and respond to these things is just… I am 100 percent honest when I say I am not sure if I will ever be able to do that. I watched Scorpion today on Netflix. Apparently it’s normal for people with a high IQ to struggle with.. . Well, everything else… I’m not sure what my IQ is but I know I am considered above average intelligent… So yeah, let’s just go with that… So anyway, one amazing thing is that my husband is back in therapy (I might have mentioned this before) and he has agreed to have a “date” with me 2morrow for 60 seconds during which we will just practice our communication skills… I am very happy and also terrified. Please if anyone has tips on relationships, emotions, communication, relationships etc… Do share. I can use all of them.

I think I might be starting to enjoy loadshedding… At least a bit. 😂 what a randomn thought that I never thought I’d say… I’ve been making it as comfy as possible for myself… With downloads of asmr and powernap videos.. And giving myself permission to use this time for either powernapping, coloring or working in the garden.. All of which I enjoy and appreciate myself for… I guess something I could take from that is that I have the power to make even one of the most uncomfortable negative situations into a positive or at least bearable situation. Wow that’s actually powerful.

I wanted to apologize for the randomn thoughtfulness, but why would I do that? Surely this is more interesting than reading about my latest emotional breakdown? Definitely more uplifting. I guess I’ve been doing a lot of soul searching. And for a change I am actually finding answers not just questions. It really feels like I’m progressing. Which is amazing. I am so happy. It’s like finally… All those hours at the new therapist must actually be worth it… Lol. If she was here she would tell me that it’s not her it’s me. I don’t know why it’s so scary impossible for me to believe that.

Totally unrelated thought… I’m not even sure why I have this blog. I mean I know I enjoy writing about my feelings and experiences anonymously, without holding back or checking or pressuring myself you know just being me… But why can’t I do that in a journal? There is something powerful about knowing that somewhere someway someone in this world might read this… And… That’s as much as I know. I’m not sure why that is important to me, but it is. I don’t know, if you are reading this maybe help me with this? Or can you relate? I mean it is highly unlikely that I’ll ever make any money from this blog. It’s not focused, it’s not niche, it’s not written for anyone or about anyone but myself, all the PR in my real life is attached to my name in real life, but I am more me “here” than anywhere else. I don’t have that many interesting things to say… Honestly I don’t know why people would even read this… So I don’t think I’m looking for friendship… Or maybe I’m just scared of admitting it. I do know that the comments I have gotten so far from the community, hasn’t been much, and usually only from bloggers that I chose to follow first… And yet, they have meant the world to me. I guess, perhaps it makes me feel like exist… Like I do have a voice, like I am a person… Not a good one or a bad one, just a person. And I’m allowed to have thoughts and feelings of my own that I’m allowed to ramble on about on this blog. I’m allowed to put them out there for random people to read and I’m allowed to talk to them about it. Maybe that is it. Whatever it is, I am thankful. I am thankful that I can “talk” to you, whoever you are today. A thanks. 💜❤️💖💓 I think I love you. And on that note.. 😘😴Goodnight

So today I felt something I thought I didn’t have anymore… Respect for myself. It was this weird feeling of being good enough, at least for the moment, of being… On my own side. Okay with being me and looking after myself. It was really strange. I vaguely remember feeling like this way back when I was around 12/13 maybe 15 or 16 years old. I used to think that everything was going to be okay as long as I was me… Coz I might me small, and not that pretty, shy, silent and not that witty, with mouse brown hair and a stomach that isn’t close to flat, but… I still was good enough to at least have my back. I don’t know the exact moment when I lost this, but it must’ve been somewhere between sleeping around, letting men touch me wherever, whenever they wanted and dropping a few handful of pills down the hatch. I used to purposefully pull out and break my hair because it was too pretty, too perfect, when I was a complete, broken, mess inside… All I wanted was for the people around me to see me cry. I wanted to show them my scars, force them to touch them and while they did I would yell at them, scream at the top of my lungs – look at what YOU did to me! Look at what you’ve done to me! Look at what you’re doing. Stop it. Stop it. Why can’t you just love me? But I never did. Instead I carried my pretty that wasn’t pretty enough face around and acted the dutiful daughter. I would comfort my mom, look after my brother, make sure my dad didn’t get hurt and didn’t hurt anyone else when he was blackout drunk… And I… Just kept going. Because that is what dutiful wannabee beautiful daughters do.

Today I touched the stretchmarks on my thighs. I looked at the red welts on my very white skin and I felt nothing but compassion… For myself… For what I’ve been through. . For what I couldn’t be and shouldn’t have been… For the days that I forced myself to cope and the days to come where I’ll still be the slightly weird, sweet, ridiculous strongest person in the room… And it felt good. Damn good.