The one that…

The one that got away, or is it more the one that had a lucky escape? Maybe it is the one everyone should have had just to keep them driven into finding a good un? Or just the one that should never have been but it becomes a romantic idealisation when things are tough?

I think I have been all of these things for others,I indulge in this knowledge now and then in some narcissistic cocktail. It plays into my own belief that I am capable of breaking or making others. It plays into my own script that no one should be trusted and that the other always assumes my stupidity and naivety. Probably many more but we would be here forever. Why is a thought always some layered onion? Because onions stink and so does life.

There was the ex ex ex, the father of my daughter. I loved him in the truest form of teenage love.The relationship was a volatile, passionate and a dangerous one. The only one that fed my love of politics and people and this played out in our multi cultural relationship. I married him in some religious ceremony and a year later ended it finally and overdue. He went on to become a junkie, dug an artery out from his wrist, and after a stint in hospital returned home to his family. Broken. This did continue and he eventually lost his passport through his suspicious activity. He has never been able to settle down,never had security and whilst I enjoy his life of karma I feel guilty. We were young and faced things adults would not have managed, the suicide of his sister being one. We still keep in contact and he grew to be very respectful and kind towards me. I see the pain on his face of losing everything he had and everything he could have had and it stirs an equal pain. So.. I was the one that got away.

Then the ex,the father to my boys,the one that raised my daughter,the one I had known through school and was so normal and out of my league in his own normality I felt lucky to have him. Over a decade I built a life and a family with this man. Turns out he was also a compulsive liar, irresponsible, never put his family or relationship first in the times he was needed the most. A workaholic who would sacrifice everything around him to play a role,ultimately he sacrificed his whole life and like the ex ex his future. He begged, pleaded ( I am not heartless this had worked a few times)but by the time I had got to this point nothing would have saved us. I took what he may have had left to remember me by and smashed it into the ground in some petulant, passive aggressive manner. I committed the ultimate relationship sin, letting him know it on the way out of the door. Not my finest. It also robbed me of having his actions to blame, I had in my fury and hurt acted in a way that took the fall for a decade I did not have responsibility for. This man was drapped in grief for two years, he found settling impossible, relationships impossible,continously attempted to please me and at times harm me in his own frustrations. The result of this was familiar. He learned to grow up a little, and again when I see him the pain is etched on his face, his eyes glaze sadly and I feel the dagger in my heart and the knife in my back. I definitely make him feel lucky for the escape despite the pain he felt on his way down. I too am pleased an exit appeared with flashing lights.

See how this is working out for me?


I have to acknowledge that I have therapy and responsibility for that part where I choose men who must have something similar. I play out my own script. What is beginning to interest me is the way I respond when something different is offered to me. I remember the most gorgeous ICU doctor showing an interest, at the time I did not register his advances,I thought he was being kind and caring, in a way that he knew he was better than me in everyway and was just taking me under his wing. That definitely was a one that got away.. Forever kicking myself.
Similar to a very old school friend, never sexual, friends for years. He would repeatedly tell me I was the one for him one day and would regularly propose in a way I did not think he meant. He is still my friend and he has a lovely family now. So these types go nicely into the box set of romantic fantasy which I watch in my head occasionally.

Is it that cycle of “I’m not ok your not ok” that I stay comfortable in. Sometimes the “i’m ok and your not ok”. All transactional analysis theories would indicate that neither of these cycles are a thumbs up. I would also say for someone with no parent ego what so ever I would do well to choose someone with a more dominant one, (or one atleast in an attempt at lowering my expectations). Instead I attract the other children with no parent egos either, between us we just about manage an adult one.

Now to get to the one that baffles me, the one I am unsure as to what happens or happened. It is not as simple as rejecting someone that actually cares and loves you, or the one I fear may actually go against my script. That would be too easy to understand and correct. I have played with this persons heart for years now and through no understanding that I can apply.

He is known to my friends as “security” because this is the role he takes with me, physically and emotionally.
Security I met five and a half years ago through friends, he is four years younger than me which I never liked as it goes against what I believe to be what I need. I believe I need someone older than myself to match my own old head and can understand things from a mature level. He is of a different class to me, the one I have been raised to deem unacceptable. Questionable as although my mother was raised in a middle to upper class we were brought up in a financially lower class until I was a teenager. My father was raised in a lower class with middle class, Catholic, values ( I mean presently on paper I am in the lowest class known to society. Stigmas). Security has always worked yet never manages to stick to one job for long enough. He is from a broken family home ( I was not. I am now), a home that experienced domestic violence, violence he too experienced as a child (snap). Hypocritical of me to view these as red herrings seeing as my own life has mirrored this way, my upbringing being the unjust snobs.

The inner him is what i find the most baffling. From the very moment we met something crazy and unexplained occurred, a pull, a connection. A knowing of something we knew and did not know all at once. From that moment on we spoke every single day,more developed. Everything that went against what I stood for was thrown into the air. At times I would throw his care and love back at him, I would do everything i had the power to do, to turn him away. I would attempt to make him question himself and his own feelings and not once did he fall into my ploys. He is by nature alot more confident in his feelings and he stands by himself with conviction, this he poured onto me. No matter what I did he stood by me with a passionate conviction even when it came at his own sacrifices.


I promised him my heart with one breath and took it away with another, over and over. He still remains stood by me in my relationships and despite his. At times I can share my tears with him and after his initial anger he will comfort and talk to me, and I mean really really talk to me.
He got his nickname because he had this uncanny ability to find me at the strangest and latest hours if he sensed, knew, had reason to believe I was not okay. Many a pre therapy time I would manage to put myself into ridiculous situations or make myself stupidly vulnerable whilst out, I would turn to find him towering over me with a look that required an explanation but actually a softness in his eyes that allowed me to feel safe to stop, collapse or throw up. He would walk me the trek home and chat away with me until I formed some sense of myself and life in a way that would keep me okay for the moment.

This all sounds lovely doesn’t it? There are things about him that drive me crazy. Up the wall, throttle him crazy. He knew not to tell me what to do, it has an opposite effect and makes me young and deviant. So if we were out and my behaviour needed reigning he will hold up one finger. This was my first warning. This continued until his third and at the point he would go. It was not to control, infact he tolerated alot. So I could chat to men but the second I became too friendly a finger would appear from across the room. How dare he have this ability?! He would also have a go at me, he still does this, he will give it to me straight and harsh. Again. Who does he think he is?!?!
Despite our ” non relationship” if I am out and not dancing with him he gets a strop on. Which annoys me because actually we dance well together and the annoying part being that because he gets annoyed is why I do that anyway. It actually makes me worse and then I act like I have not understand his upset.


Then there is the way his jealousy rears its half head. If I go away and he suspects with duck or even WORSE, next duck! He loses his mind. He accuses me of things that actually make me so incensed it becomes dangerous. He sets out to hurt me and the very second this happens I become hurt that he would hurt me. I do not consider the years of hurt I have inflicted on him in these moments and I do not tolerate them. Why should I? From anyone? Should I? How many times can a person apologise?


We then argue and do not talk for however long we each can go. Weeks at best. Both equally stubborn and petulant.
He also will do what ever his stupid mind can think of to provoke jealousy. Which it does not,it winds me up that he consciously goes about attempting it. So much so I want to grab the skin under his arm and twist it. Maybe the arm he had my pet name tattooed on. I mean who does this without a ring?!

The thought of him with others does not plague me as I presume my own ability to split bits, ignore and forget allows for this to be easy. So long as I do not lose him. So long as he is always there like a best friend through good times and bad times. Through us not talking or talking. I like to know that he is mine, could be mine , would be mine, and in my fantasies will be mine. What if I choose will be and he is not there?


I am using these clips because it is something we once acknowledged as being similar to us. We are together, apart, with others, move on, do not move on, yet continue this merry dance of friendship and unknown. I say unknown. To me it is unknown but I suspect not so much for him.

Then of course children. I have mine and he has his one,they have met once and actually their very similar kids. They do not argue, they have similar humour and ways and likes(unlike Mr Ducks duckling and mine)my children liked him. Alot. Is this because he posed no threat, no hostage of attention, no disappearing to fear. I really liked his child too, a child raised against the odds to become a lovely being. Damn, I actually even liked his ex. I hate Mr Ducks ex because she is a constant spanner. So are these all different because their currently not applicable?

What ever it is. What is actually wrong with me? What is this?


I have driven my self crazy for years trying to understand the feeling of something that just does not make sense.

What ever it is I guess time will tell. Or you will tell me? Or therapy? I can’t tolerate the never ending questions and curiosity.
But the best way to describe it is..


And his best way to describe it would without doubt, because he tells me when drunk texting me..


Yet here I am, struggling through a mud patch with Mr duck. Someone I cannot dance with. Not because neither of us can but because he will not go out with me the same way, ironically holding me accountable and responsible for. Crutching him through his troubles,sacrificing my own self and needs and exhausting my own few skills. Constantly extending the goal posts.
Without a shadow of a doubt there is definitely something wrong with my left phalange.


The lying domino.

“The saddest thing about betrayal is that it never comes from your enemies” has come to be a quote I have moved into my moto island.
My paranoia and Schitzotypal scores on the ipde are high ( along with others, possible blog inspiration), in defence of this I would like to say… No BLOODY WONDER! I suspect my high scores are a reflection of everyone I have had a relationship with.

Betrayal,lying,deception,dishonesty, deceit, cheating, keeping hold of the truth, behaving in ways you cannot speak of to those you love the very most. It is all the same. I have lived a life full of this from one person or another and I cannot claim to be innocent either.
There are of course acceptable lies “noooo your ass does not look big” acceptable. Lying for good is always okay, especially where children are concerned, santa is totally real right?! But deceit for own gain and gratification without a sense of the other makes any reason void. Without the sense of the other in your life your actions become detrimental to that person and eventually yourself. It’s the rule of sod, a whole level away from your bread landing butter side down. To do this knowing that your lack of honesty will really mess with someone’s already poor mental health makes you a true ( no lies) absolute nunney.

This has been the situation for me for what would seem to have been two years. Two years of believing I was important, respected, understood, cared for, loved, gone in the pop of a rain cloud. I have few boundaries for others and almost none for myself, the one I have for my other is simple and stated from the get go. I have suspected, asked, begged, cared for the truth only to be met with lies upon lies,deceit, huge dishonesty drenched in theatrics, and the lowest method.. Making out it was me,making me feel it was my paranoia, my schitzotypal, my schizoid, resulting in me believing not only was I struggling I was getting worse. I felt I would ruin something amazing, a future, I would deny a loving relationship for us both. I would destroy it all with my ways. If only it ended there.. Then I question myself, I hate myself, I tolerate more and more things that are not healthy and are not acceptable because I no longer trust my mind and I no longer like myself enough to think I am worth it anyway.
I now doubt every single thing in our time together, not one memory is without tarnish, not one thing said to me I can believe, because if it had have been true I would not be in the situation I am now.
Lies have a huge domino effect and it is easy to believe that the first one falls when the truth comes to light, it is not then. The first domino falls the second you lie, or keep it away from the ones you love. You flick that first one, you flick the chain of the fallen, you end up with the mess and you end up alone picking it up. If the belief is that the lie will keep your relationship then you are wrong, because you have flicked, there is only one outcome. Because choosing to keep it in or continue the betrayal undoes anything and everything you have. It turns to tarnish, to a window view in to something that was real.

So what now? After the flick? The flicker hates the mess, maybe expected the fallen or sits in astonishment as to how easily and quickly the rest fall. The dominos are the ones that feel the pain of the bump. Not only their own pain, they know the pain about to be felt by the one behind them and behind them. The domino can sense each ones anticipation of the pain, the disappointment of the flicker, the fear of the fall. When a flicker stacks they do with care, precision, thought, admiration, and pride. Why would a domino suspect that first flick?

So I live in now avoidant, dependant, antisocial fear. I am desperate to untangle it. My brain tells me to leave the pile of domino’s and the flicker on the floor. I am not responsible for anything but my own heart and my own mind. My heart loves him, so very much, it feels sad for him. The realistic rational me knows he flicked, he made his choice knowing the implications and the consequences,this fact alone speaks through a megaphone clearly. Also how is there a future when the past has been destroyed? When who I thought he was has been destroyed? When who I thought I was to him has been destroyed?

He claims to seek help, two weeks now and no help taken, no attempt to gain. More domino rows?
To know that the result would have an immense impact on my mental health, something I fight so hard to correct is the most questionable and telling of character.

It would seem people do what ever it takes to meet their own needs and gain their own singular gratification at the cost of anyone and even those who are of importance to them. As domino’s what can we do? Escape the box? Fall before hit? Fall sideways?

Moto island says ” a lie keeps you in the past and the truth takes you to the future”.


I did it with lots of poop

I did it! My last normal to bed normal to rise before I get back to swimming. I never, EVER,  want to experience that again. With anyone. The whole bloody experience is just one shit your pants scenario after another. My duck is coming home.

In a month and a day,  I have battled with parents over children, spent every week in my sons school, prevented him from all kinds of pre teen drama, pulled him out of the drama I couldn’t prevent, dealt with an ex that makes me question if I had shit in my eyes for twelve years, managed a daughter starting her first ever relationship, which involved some scary moments with her body dismorphia, maintained a home and my family, worked ridiculously hard in therapy, spent a weekend in Venice with my mother and managed to somehow got dragged kicking and screaming into a drama triangle that has resulted in the breakdown of many relationships around me. Including the one I have with my brother ( not so codepedant now aye). And of course managed a long distance relationship with my duck. No duck. No hugs of ok.

My haven’ts became good. A lot of things that have truly had me shit my pants at the start. I haven’t cheated. I did not use my go to whoreish ways, better yet I didn’t want to (probably didn’t have the energy either, u saw my do’s).  This one had me trembling with fear. I also haven’t drank like I would and like I was. No drink midweek and only during the weekends I went out, granted these weekends tested the liver but everything likes to be tested to know their ability. I haven’t harmed.  That’s right, another occasion to not have been marked out on my body. I have felt like it,at times so much my body had tears coming out of every pore, but still nothing.  I haven’t killed anyone and no one has killed me. Yet. Suicidal fantasy has certainly behaved like a rollercoaster but here I am typing. So all my shitty knickers and shit my pants fears have been overcome.

It’s fairly amazing. Miraculous almost. This would not have happened before therapy and it definitely wouldn’t have happened without it. Bloody soul sucking place. It also wouldn’t have happened if I hadn’t decided to trust him. But I did, which also shows my projection has decreased. I accept I may be wrong to trust, who knows but what I have taken from it is that trust isn’t about the other person, it’s about your own sense of self. I feel I am now worth loving…. A little. That I am worth being treated well… Mostly. That I am on the most part (acting out aside and this month I havent)  a catch in ways. Yes I’m crazy and yes I fall and yes I reach out to bad mechanisms..  But I do have a good heart and up until now I allowed people to spit on it. I can’t be rid of it so it shall be treated with what it is deservant. I also have needs and their mine and not for someone else to validate. There is something about trust that always implies it’s the other persons duty to earn. The other persons power.  The other persons perception of you. It isn’t. Not for me I don’t think. Trust is there when you feel confident of your self. Your worth. You set boundaries and do not have them crossed. You love you. You trust you. You trust in your own judgement and your own self.

My duck I thought had the trust power, the ability to make it or break it. I thought he dragged that son of a….. all over Thailand. He didn’t. It didn’t get in his backpack. It stayed here with me. You see surely if you have no self esteem and no confidence you don’t trust. Because you believe no one will want you,  no one will love you, you are not worthy of them,  at any moment they will act on that,leave, find better. And if your batshit what does that make them for being with you? Even worse and more untrustable. But surely once you do not feel these things the trust appears and is yours. The trust is yours. You trust you. Trusting you is the hardest trust to have, it was actually where all my trust issues landed. Much easier to project that out. Makes truth in that a cheater will always accuse the other of being unfaithful. That’s me, I do this,  just quietly on the inside so I appear normal. I didn’t trust my own behaviours so why would I trust anyone else’s.

Don’t get me wrong. I have been jealous, angry, sad, overwhelmed,content, suspicious, all at once. Everything. I have felt everything since he has been away, I have ridden this train continously in circles the whole time. Just for once pondering my mind on my travels.

My last hurdle of this experience is to overcome the meeting him at the airport. Already pooping panties. I become all anxious thinking about it. I know I will suddenly become that five year old uncollected at school again but this time seeing a parent walk through the gate. I worry I won’t attach back, act normal, oh god what if my speech goes because my brain forgets my mouth under panick. What if.. What if..  What if. I hope my need and want for him back wins. I miss his skin. His warmth when I’m cold. I miss him more than I was willing to say.

There is a sense of a line to his return. Hopefully a line drawn to both of our acting out ways. A line to the hurt we have both been through as of late, together and alone, a line to the injustices we have brought to one another, a line that we now know if we love each other we won’t cross. No more risk. I hope. Idealistic.  I think it is forgiving I’m talking about. No one forgets these things but we can choose to forgive, we accept we deal with and decide if that other is worth having this from us. I partly think if someone Can hurt you so much then surely the love is so deep it has to be worth a shot.

So.  Today’s waffle summary. I’m shitting my pants all the time. I trust myself more and as a result I have increased trust outwardly. Even when it goes wrong. I forgive those I believe warrant my forgiveness and I feel able to accept what was, what is and what maybe can be.

Now now lucifer…

The first betrayal of grandeur was from the right hand man of God. An angel named lucifer, created with a beautiful voice and of the most stunning appearance, who was blessed with everything a man could want. Or so anyone would believe but him. His desires drove a darkness and the darkness rose blackening his soul, and to war he went. Of course God had that shit in the bag, or more specifically, he had the throne in a mofo trunk. God being the almighty won the war with the flick of a finger and the downing of a dragon. God cast his right hand man into the world and from that moment on a lifetime of battle commenced.

I know what you are thinking, every seventh sense man sounds exactly like this, you are correct. But what about the ones that start out as angels? What about the angels you trust and love ( without love is betrayal even possible? Ponders). Every one it would seem has the ability to become a devil. Everyone it would seem wants more than the ultimate.

I have spent two years being told that if I befriend men then I should know they are only after one thing. That when I meet men I am usually intoxicated and that there are no exceptions to the motive of men and my judgement is always impaired. I object. I do believe in opposite sexs being friends and I do believe that most people do not say hi whilst thinking what my knickers look like. Mr Duck disputes. So I have not accumulated male friends since being in this relationship, I respect he has insecurities and that it would cause him hurt I could prevent. I will not invite something that could cast doubt and ruin my relationship. He is always my right hand man and I need this ( cough to the Co dependency).

Trust is something I do not have, fools trust. I have always believed that anyone that trusted a partner should be cheated on as a harsh reminder not to be so gullible. I would snigger inside as if the words ” I trust them” translated to ” I’m a dick. A big one”. Yet something in this relationship has had me beginning to explore that maybe I do trust this duck. Which has me squeezed into a corner cowering and screaming “noooooooooooooooooooo maybe I actually do love him”. I won’t give him any credit for this tosh, I blame the therapy. Fuckin therapy is destroying my life.

When the duck migrated for winter I had thought that it would inevitably end the relationship. Splitting for me and of course cheating for him. To my surprise the latter didn’t appear to cross my mind. Terrifyingly I allowed myself to accept maybe. Just maybe. I love him. Properly. Like those weirdo normal people. Maybe, even worse, I trust him.

I’M A DICK. A BIG ONE. It came to my attention that MY Duck had been meeting swans. Yep swans. Gorgeous pre baby type swans. Not just that, he had also found it totally acceptable to add them to his social media and to have them liking all his shit in some Facebook code way of saying” I would”. The worst bit, it gets worse, is that days prior to discovery he had once again spoken about his friendships of opposite sexs code. Whist I challenged his views he swore oath he was to be heard and that he himself had not had the company of girls he would friend. LIES! Sitting next to God for two years just isn’t enough is it lucifer? So he hung himself with his own rope, probably the same rope he takes his dragon out for a walk with.

I think what infuriates me most isn’t the fact he did this, although I think it invites something when the relationship is already being tested, it’s the fact he has made me feel silly for thinking the way I do. For all those missed opportunities of having some male friends. For feeling like a total cheating whore for just chatting with a man over a cigarette in between my clubbing dance offs. And he lied. He lied about when they were added, vague about circumstances and was totally hypocritical. Because obviously he is now one of those men that only want the knickers. By his own definition. Throw making me appear neurotic for being cross into the cauldron and we have a whole heap of reasons I should walk away.

It matters not what he says about his love for me nor does it matter his explanation, incase you wonder apparently it’s an exception if your travelling.
“All husbands will be leaving the country shortly. Please make your way to gate 6”. Damage done. So whilst I sit pretty with my narcissistic crown and my mofo trunk, I shall for ever more be watching his wings. It doesn’t help when as of late he has lied over moods and purchasing items detrimental to our relationship, his own health and pushed me to question my own sense of worth.

This was the man I saw as my angel. The one I could trust more than any other. The one who I would challenge myself for and risk my beliefs and boundaries to be with. Who I thought would go away and heal and find himself and come back with even bigger wings.

My empire now at least means that whilst he adds and chats away for this month, I comfort myself with the knowledge I go out more, in ways that bring such opportunity. Now the rules have changed, I will not be making a step back with them as suits him. I shall be able to chat and meet and friend and get more likes on my pretty, jeweled dressed, head. I have not cast lucifer into the world, I have instead cast a book of stamps into the museum I build rapidly.

Lessons learnt :every devil was once an angel and every angel can become a devil. I should read the Bible more and I should never ever trust (A word. A promise. A Penis. A man). Ultimately love and trust isn’t the one it’s absolutely made for the stupid. I am learning quickly what it is that I want from a relationship and I am starting to think I should be doing exactly what I want. I too can be the exception.

It’s not you it’s me.

No one gets it, no one’s see’s and it would be nice to be seen without showing anything. Because this isn’t asking for much. This doesn’t set up a problem for failure. But today was different, today I was very much seen and it came from an unlikely, to me, source. Probably a very likely source according to others, it was my brother. I have often questioned if this is a relationship of some form of Co dependency and in ways I do think so, but how do u break down a relationship with someone that has grown with you and you can’t remember not being in you life? Ponders.

To say I have been near the end as of late is an understatement. I truly feel my show is over and I am ready to bow out. I won’t. My kids trap me into this death sentence called life, but it isn’t stopping my mind from detaching and disappearing into autistic fantasy and suicidal fantasy.  I cried my three year old self out today. It came from no where,  in front of my brother who I like to remain in elder sibling role for. A little bit leaked and then more and more and more. I ended up sobbing my heart out. He listened to my mumbles and understood. Finally someone verified I was okay to feel this. I was right to find it too much. Until I spoke about my duck. It was in this moment my brother smothered me and said ” you are separating. This isn’t you. This is your demons talking to me”. Wahahahahahahahaha. More tears. Because whilst I know I can’t stop the thoughts torturing me. I can’t stop them feeling rational. I think all my thoughts are correct. I can’t trust him. He is a liar. He is selfish. Mean. Doesn’t care. He doesn’t care for me or my little me. I tried speaking to him about how I felt and he just continued to talk about his travels. I sit struggling and he detaches and is probably shagging away anyway. True.

So while I know they may be distorted thoughts (I lie. It’s real. I’m right) I think I don’t really want him back. It’s not the relationship or man for me. This seems like de je vu. I have been here many times. With him. With others. I leave these relationships because the truth comes to light quickly. I put them under the rug and move on. If you can’t escape easily at times escape for good on your one chance.

Now. Now comes the bit I hope is real,the ol’cliche “it isn’t you it’s me”. Why people mock this I don’t know, this seems to be the most honest reason people end relationships. I split, I am paranoid, I’m distrusting,  and I’m young,emotionally and mentally. This is not okay. Why I have ever entertained the idea of being in a relationship is a bloody mystery. It is not fair on anyone to be with me. This is not healthy, happy or normal. I can’t. I try and I try but as it stands, still I can’t do it. If I do then it costs them. Like now I don’t think I will ever not be resentful and hurt over him leaving, over what I see to be deceit of purchases that knowingly hurt me. Over me feeling I pick up after someone’s struggles yet left to struggle alone for a long time, to me it feels. Always feeling he does not show consideration to my needs and feelings. That’s not ok. I should not be so sensitive, but also I should speak more in the first place. I should trust myself more. I doubt myself too much. It’s like I expect someone else to show me the way then become hurt by the way it is. So really.  It is me not you.

I now believe I am not in a place, possibly never will be, to be in a relationship.  My desires, wants and needs are too ideal. I want someone to see me without me saying or showing. I want these insecurities comforted and I want my needs met. My needs are too way out there, too young, for anyone in their right mind to concept or be skilled enough to offer. In front of them is this functioning woman in her thirties managing family and home. How could they? So I think I am about to resign myself to a life repairing and recovering. I have soon to be thirty five years of hurt, badly adapted mechanisms, grief, shame and trauma to recover from. If I can.

If he wants and needs  a life where he can rebuild himself in what ever form it takes really I should take a leaf from this. Not lose myself to his. Likewise for him. The whole thing is now unhealthy, it’s rotted from the inside out because we where both too broken to see or repair as we went. I know enough of him to know he will be feeling the same. He will remember things I say and do and take them as a negative and rejection or disapproval, as a huge narcissistic injury. I don’t want to be another one of these in his life. If I did see this month through and attempt to continue I know I would find his hands tainted and his mind questionable.

So now what? Splitting is a vile thing. I wish I could express how ugly it is and how destroying it is on ones self and those around them. I take the fact that I lasted longer before splitting than I thought as a good thing. Not good enough yet.  I surrender to it, my white flag is up. I went to war and I lost the battle. For me I personally think until I learn to manage these triats and learn to hear what is right and wrong in myself I should be a lone wolf. For the sake of everyone.

I’m annoyed that I have put my children through this. Again. They attach and I rid. They attach and they leave. I’m allowing them to build cycles and beliefs that are not correct. I go into every relationship like it’s marriage with no exception,for better or for worse right? Realistically I’m not fit to make this commitment and I meet people similar.  My word would be squished in court on grounds of my unstable mind. So it should be no different here. I’m annoyed at myself, I’m annoyed at him and I’m annoyed at life for having power over it all. I’m taking the power away.

I do not understand still how I get to this. I don’t fully understand why, protection in some extreme form I guess, and I don’t understand the need for behaviours along the way. I know harm and suicide becomes a given, I want to escape yes, but my mind mostly. It becomes so intense whilst going through this process its like being hurt freshly every time I wake up. We both knew the splitting would happen,  we both knew and had no strategy,  not that I would have known where to begin with that. I find the emotions and thoughts so intense and divided that it’s harder to manage knowing he can heal and enjoy his time. Mostly because,at this time and in this moment, i think I have paid the price.  Corrr I could be talking utter shite. Knowing me this is most likely.  Today. In this night. It’s real.

Grief the complex arsehole

I remember being told by someone when I first started in therapy that I appeared surrounded by grief. Utter tripe. No one close has died that I haven’t accepted or am not at peace with. This in itself is untrue. I never accept death, I just manage to box it up well into a storage container marked Do Not Open.

Therapy of any form is tiring. Intense therapy is horrific. In itself I wonder if I should have therapy for the therapy. It’s a bit like the haribo advert, a room full of mixed aged adults all becoming very young for three days a week. It makes you vulnerable, it breaks you down to your core and as a group you try to grow up all over again at a quicker pace. Finding the most basic of tools most people take for granted yet we never had or have. I sit as a toddler it feels and have to rebuild my whole inner self, I tantrum, I get sad without tears, I revisit past traumas and dig into every relationship I have or have had. I leave at the end of the day like a five year old neglected to be collected from school. Dazed, sad, thoughtful and with all these confusing emotions.

I have been thinking and thinking and working and working on figuring out how I split. Why I split. How not to split and more so how not to totally ruin my relationship and love for my duck at this time. I have known for about a year this was coming and I knew it scared me. This would become a very live opportunity to understand it. I have begun to think of it as grief. Today I was asked  “has he gone? How do you feel?” Meh. I feel meh. I don’t care today. I actually truly don’t care. As if I have never cared. I do not give a fuck. I can’t remember life with him in it. When I force myself to try I don’t remember much good. I can only remember the bad. The good becomes fuzzy and unreal. He becomes like a memory that I can’t catch.

I have thought back over my week and my blogs. I got rid of him,anger,sad, hurt and acceptance.  I know in my head I have been asking myself why I didn’t speak out more. I know the answer. Who am I to change or alter his life? His dreams. It would not have been a fair thing to do. I did not want my batshit pooing on him. The same way I will shut down to avoid it pooing on my children. I will deny myself to avoid impact that I believe is poisoning.  I have always been able to deny my own needs and feelings for the sake of others. I become a martyr in my head, happily and naturally. Or not so it would seem, it goes somewhere,it does something. So all my, why didn’t I’s? If only’s.. become a bargaining process.  I have sat wondering who can experience this range of emotion. So intense. Each emotion like a knife in my stomach.  What is that?

It’s grief. I need to check this out in therapy,but right now I think I experience a form of grief at a supersonic fast pace. It’s got to be a defence in a complicated form. Complicated grief. It fits. I can do this with anyone. Anything. I have. No tears to long relationships breaking down. To people dying. To trauma. I fly through grief. I know from past therapy I don’t actually cope it comes out sideways remember. So surely I fly through grief and spend my forevers with a ton of shit falling out Sideways. Preventable grief? My fault grief? And ohhhhhhhh kick in the many Amsterdam cycles.

I can understand it as “normal grief” in others. Maybe that is why I find supporting my duck and his needs too easy. Because whilst it is from different circumstances the feelings are similar. Their live and fierce emotions and full of angry energy. At everything. Maybe he can’t meet mine because he doesn’t understand how I feel when actually it’s constant fast flitting grief,grief he gets. The repulsive thing about bpd is the black and white,there is no grey. If you feel it you feel like a child. Like an open wound to emotions. I am a three year old carrying a life of grief. Extreme sad, extreme anger,extreme everything. So maybe I’m not mad. Ish? What would any adult do if they had to feel this with an absent inner parent ego. No sense to self soothe. With all the added years of shame binds and self hate and no worth. What do adults do in grief when they believe they caused everything? Or can fix everything? Irrational. What do adults do? Because all I know now is to take away the pain because I can’t soothe. Only recently have I learned a fraction of my needs. I know to burn to stop the anger and pain to take away the self hate that will destroy. I know to escape into drink and music, men and recently drugs. I know to deny myself things like nice food or play with it, this cost me my gallbladder years ago. All old old behaviours. What do normal people do?

So I have gone through my stages of grief. I don’t know if it’s going to continue on this cycle until..what. Or if this is where I get stuck? It scares me somewhat as well as intrigues me. It was put to me in a support call to think back and maybe consider how a toddler communicate trauma? Tears? Tantrums? Odd behaviour. But no words will come. So needs don’t get met, fundamental needs. Is this where it adapted from? Do I act like a toddler unable to put words to trauma,to grief, tothe hurt of trauma. Hurt of not being noticed ( no one’s fault, who would know or guess).  Hurt of my main carers not seeing or meeting my needs that I tried to communicate. I would say so to all. Growing up feeling like their was a failure from my main carer allowing something. Trauma after trauma. Changing traumas. Things that become normal because no one soothes anything. No one protects or prevents. Sees me.

It’s definitely all connecting. It doesn’t explain everything. But it is starting to unravel. All the thoughts that get attached and mechanisms. The ocd. The anxiety I hide. I am forever a child unable to put words to anything,because I have never known it to be met,forever questioning everything about me. About being loved enough to be seen. I hate being seen. Probably because what then?  I never allow anyone to do any different. I almost guided my duck into doing the same. I sabotaged and he didn’t see. Because I won’t be seen. No words. No communication.

This blog is a ton of waffle to anyone I imagine,but it makes some sense to me. I have a huge headache and I am tired beyond anything. What an absolute ton of fuckedy upedy ness.  All this whilst raising three children, protecting them in a way that allows for no loop hole to impact them, meeting their every single need to avoid their future therapy. Never taking time out because I trust no one to look after them well enough. Keeping it to us and us four alone. Parenting in the fiercest protective nature,contending with the ex,supporting loved ones,remembering everything that comes with life..which kid needed the opticians when?  And running a home whilst stepfording is going to be the death of me I am sure. Yes duck. Please let me see the lovely time you are having.  It’s all ridiculous and oddly isolating and lonely.

Oh there it is,the screw this shit, the biggest escape and harm all rolled into one. The thought gives me goosebumps, it’s like someone surrounds me by air I can breath, it makes my head go light and calm. But no. Because then who would do the stuff I have to? Who would look after them? Even then there are too many neglectful people.

I know this is a huge contrast to my last blog. This one is gritty,ultimately I have to remain true to the purpose of the blog and tomorrow I will probably be totally different. It’s Monday and the first day back from the festive season. Surely no one is content right now?2e7befa2eb8202b3b5758a63719d97de




Seventh sense man.

I have more than often wondered how it is that I attract the weirdo men. I have attracted the, if I’m batshit what are you shitting, men. I have attracted the ones that apparently poo nothing then suddenly BAM! Diarrhoea. Then there are the men that just let out some wind and follow through. However it is that they empty their craziness, I get the crazy. I hear the hypocrisy,let me just say now, I have enough crazy for an army at times. I do not want or need someone else’s crazy. Sadness fine, Crazy no. Two ill bats just create a vampire.

It suddenly struck me that I don’t actually attract this type. They find me. Men I have discovered have a seventh sense,probably because their sixth is weak. Have you ever received a text from a dude and you just sit gawping into your tea asking how they knew you and your manhub had just had an argument? Or you go out feeling totally cak about your looks and attract everyone so you drink more to cope? Or the occasions when they just say the right thing as if they had bugged your telephone conversation with your best gal, listening in to your rants and desires? I am telling you. This is their seventh sense.

Not all men have it. The “normal” ones don’t need it. Their confident in their abilities to get a nice girl, they don’t need to pray on anything. Personally I believe they make up a teaspoon of the male population. I also calculated into the equation the men whose women believe they are good yet everybody else notices the shit pouring out of the bottom of his trousers.

The seventh sense men are in one way or another shitting. Batshit,windshit, BAMshit. But it’s all the same product. These men find the vulnerable in you,with no effort, probably subconsciously on the most part. MOST USED LOOSELY. They know if your weak ( easy is an option to this. Insert if needed), they know if your craving attention, they know that if your five baby daddy’s down your gonna stick with what you get. Their ability to pin down the parts of you that you hate the most and compliment them is uncanny. Ruthless.

When Mr Duck and myself are quaking away, posting, tagging on social media. Nothing. When me and Mr Duck are swimming along loving life and each other. Nothing. When I am so besotted with my duck I could serve him up for dinner. Nowt. No birds near duck. No shit near duck. Life is quackingly great. It quack get better.

But what has happened is this. My duck flew the nest and migrated for winter, suddenly every seventh sense, praying shitting bird is circling. I sat wondering why I was receiving these random texts, appearances from shitters on my phone all over the place. I mean I like these people! For now! But it makes them questionable. I couldn’t figure out how they sensed the vulnerability. Thank god they don’t read my blog.. One wine and a line of coke would have had me out the nest a day or so ago. But the point is they sense it. The sad bit is I’m currently gluing myself down because they have sensed it so well I have to use everything I have to not reply. Reminding myself that not one of them has anything better than my gorgeous man,that I am a morale woman and most of all, I love my duck. Yes I love my duck. I love wine.. Doh. I love sex.. Doh. I love love love attention.. Triple doh. That’s why I have glue,the best glue. Because despite my wobbles, batshit emotions and not wanting to,their senses are spot on.


It’s this that has given me some comfort. Like cracking (so want to out quacking. Too much?) a code. I don’t find them,they find me. I am right not to trust the charmers, the ones that lay bread crumbs, the ones so bloody nice you want to strangle them and put them on mute. I always thought crazy attracts crazy. This is true with friends, but with men..nahah.. Vulnerable attracts man crazy, a man with a seventh sense. You are never getting away unless you crack it at the start or call in women’s aid.

The really good thing is, I have been tempted to dance with the devil as of late, the devil’s have knocked my door and asked for my hand to the dance floor and I have not put on my dancing shoes. I am somewhat proud of my batshit self. Not enough to put the birds of shit back in a box, maybe I will keep them as homing pigeons for when I really hit shit. Although for now I have been nice and told them to fly off gently.

But beware girls. They are everywhere. So the next time you think, wow.. Not wow. The next time you think this one has it all ask yourself what vulnerabilities you have and if he is hitting them all then walk, he is not the duck for you.