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On the other side 

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I find it amazing- astounding in fact that as human beings we have the ability to infect someone else with a feeling. Be it positive or negative; once someone has you in their sights with an intent to make an impact that’s it, it hits you like a spell. Dragging you to the depths of despair or to the highest of highs. 
I have seen the former all to many times and now I bask in the light. I’m seeing what life is like on the other side.

A warmth. A smile. A touch. A word. That’s all it took! 

 I’m upside down, head spinningly giddy- excited brave and bashful all at the same time. A myriad of contradictions swell my daily thoughts but that’s ok. After all don’t “they” say with great risk comes great reward? Now I can’t help but to think – it’s my turn, my time!!  

So I’m embracing it with all that I have- no expectations other than to enjoy every moment. 

At the risk of this post becoming a puke-fest I’ll call it a day now, but I do want to say to all the women out there who are sadly still on the dark side of their journey- 

There is hope. It will get better. You will smile again. 

For now cry the tears you need to cry. Greave the life you’ve lost or that will never be, but know that something else, something more spectacular than you ever dared to dream is waiting just for you! 

X

A sweet kinda something

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A sweet kinda something has taken a hold of me. Wrapping itself around me. Consuming every inch of me. My every waking moment. It’s there. The sunshine to my rainy day. 

Fast and furious, day by day it’s growing, leaving me helpless. I can only comply.

My tears replaced with smiles. My wounds softy treated to healing kisses. Breathing life back in my bones. 

As risky as this is. As vulnerable and afraid as I am. I have faith and I’m along for the ride. Yet another exhilarating ride. I buckle up and hope for the best. Push the fear of the worst to one side and just be. Be in the moment and see it for what it is, here and now. 

My peace. My joy. 

Happiness! 

Melt down 

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It’s past midnight. I’ve been in bed for hours now. Yet here I am wide awake. 

My mind’s sad and alone. After god, my millionth melt down of the past two years I’m exhausted. Yet I continue to scroll. Page after page of perfect lives beaming at me. Like a voyuer from the warmth of my bed, it’s embrace being my only protection from the cold darkness that’s all around me I watch how the other half live. 

The perfection that is life portrayed on social media illuminates my face casting a soft cool glow on the buba softly sleeping by my side. It depresses me more. I know it’s not real. It never is. Mine wasn’t. 

But as sad as my virtual people watching makes me, I’m destracted. I’m not thinking. So I scroll some more. Dreaming of a life that once was, now will never be.

It’s funny really, in this 24-7 life we share – constantly- we never stop to think about what’s really going on. We watch the videos. We comment. We engage on so many levels but we never really ask… Are those eyes really smiling? How often has she cried today? Did her baby sleep last night? 

My own social footprint or should I say my own social silence, here on this very blog, led a colleague to comment recently that he’s happy I’m content. When I asked him where that came from he noted my lack of posts. His assumption being I had nothing to say. I guess it’s a fair cop!  Sadly not true. Life has been it’s usual hard self. 

I’ve had a million  more narc issues to fill these blank pages with than you could ever imagine. But the truth is,  well I just don’t have the energy to write. I want to, I do. But I don’t have it. Not right now. 

Between working and the muddled mayhem that is what I call motherhood, I’m done. 

I get home, another Groundhog Day. I wrestle with my little bundle of flesh and giggles for hour after hour, squeezing the sleep out of him with every ounce of fight I have in me. Only to give up. Give in. 

A-1 

mama-0! 

Washing piled up. Dinner dishes stacked. Floor sticky. That’s it. Right there. That’s my perfect life. But no one wants to see that bit. So we smile into the selfie O, A and I and we pretend. We, women perpetuate the feeling of failure in one another. Well not me. It stops here. I can’t do it. 

I started this blog with great intentions; to help others who are maybe struggling with similar situations to see that it’s not just them whilst at the same time removing the poison from my body. Somewhere along the way that got lost a bit. And I stopped. This became a page for the victim inside me. I don’t want to be a victim but the truth is I am. And I’m not alone in that. And you know what that’s ok. 
So I’m laying myself bare and I’ll say for all of us I’m failing. It’s fucking hard. I’m alone. I can’t. 

(Right now… I will again. But not today.)

Yes I cry and shout and sleep and snap and order take always but I’m alive. I’m Still fighting.  The boys are alive and right now that’s the best I can do. 

 If my confession of failure allows one, just one of you to have a melt down, a momentary lapse then forgive yourself and move on then I’m back on track. 

We all need a little cry. It’s ok, no ones perfect regard less of what it may seem, remember that before you beat yourself up again.  

Tomorrow’s another day! Move on 

And now to sleep xx

The moments that matter

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Thursday June 2nd. The final goodbye. So many people. Friends old and new. Family travelled from far and wide all together for you. To celebrate you, to cherish you. To say a last goodbye. 

As painful as these moments in life are, I know I have so much to be thankful for. I look around me at all these faces, all brought together for you. Each one holding memories, stories and loving thoughts of you. You are part of them, as you are me. Still living and breathing through us. 

I watched with sadness and huge pride as the new men of the family, your wonderful grandsons carry you up high. Arm in arm, shoulder to shoulder, with steady, lovingly placed strides they accompany you to your final sleep. 

My boy O, only 14 years old, would not be turned. Try as I might to convince him that he didn’t have to do it, he was as determined as you would have been… carry he would! And you know what, I’m so glad he did. 

I have always been proud of my boys (of all the boys), but in that moment my heart was truly overwhelmed with such love for that young man. Stoic, composed, mature, and looking oh so handsome in his new black suit. He took his responsibilty seriously, lavishing all his attention and focus to ensure the proper delivery of the task in hand. 

He did you proud. They did you proud. 

It’s these moments that matter. When we are all together. Crying, laughing, hugging, caring and sharing. This is what life is all about. 

Family. 

Love. 

United in you. 

So now what? Life goes on…

Harsh but true. 

But know this little one; you will never be forgotten because you will live on; in those boys, in me, in your children, grandchildren, great grandchildren, brothers, sisters, cousins, aunts, uncles and friends. As long as there is breath in our bodies we will share our stories of you and you will live on X 

Good night God bless X 

Sad times

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Today I’m writing from a deck chair in my back garden. The sun is bursting the sky. O is out with his friends and the baby is fast asleep. You would be forgiven for thinking that right about now life sounds good.

Sadly that is not the case. For the past two weeks my heart has been heavy. Sad. Broken. Yet strangely calm. 

I have put off writing this post for days now in fear that I wouldn’t find the words to say what I truly feel. Yet, I also cannot let this time past unnoticed. Unrecognised. So here it is. 

On Monday May 16th, whilst sat in London at a conference with work I received a message from my mother that shattered my life as I know it. My darling Nanna who has been sick in hospital since Christmas wasn’t expected to last the night. 

My gasp at seeing this news combined with my instantaneously welling eyes, alerted my boss that something was wrong. I showed the message to him and was immediately bundled out of the room and sent home. Once outside and away from the curious eyes of the other participants I broke into uncontrolled sobs. 

I had to see her. I had to say goodbye. To tell her “I love you”. 

The train ride home, looking back now was a bit of a blur. I just recall checking my phone a million times dreading another message saying she had gone. That I was too late. She would never know!! 

Thankfully that message never came. 

Nothing ever prepares one to say goodbye; no pain felt before, no matter how hard you think you’ve had it previously, no matter how old or experienced. It’s horrible. Truly, madly stomach turning horrible. 

She looked so tiny, so frail. Half the magnificent woman I knew her to be. Gaunt and still. Try as she might to talk to us her body just wouldn’t comply. And her words were silent. 

I mustered everything inside of me to fight back the tears from forming but they were rebellious in their escape. My efforts were wasted. We sat. All of us. Aunties, uncles, cousins, grandchildren and mum, trying to be calm, to not scare her. No idea between us if she knew what was ahead. If she had any level of comprehension of the hand she had been dealt. That soon she and my granddad would be reunited in eternal peace. 

The feeling was somber but I don’t think I would be wrong to say that it was somewhat conflicted. We we watching her suffer more and more every day, and had been for such a long time. Her mind active but body weak. Her frustration growing daily at her inability to jump outa bed and just get on with life. Her pain and suffering literally shrinking her before our very eyes. No one wanted her to go, but we also knew that she didn’t want this. Such a lively woman, sharp, whitty, independent, proud. She was also (god awful) stubborn and always right (even when so wrong)! But that was who she was and we loved her despite it. Now here she was almost lifeless before us. We hoped for her that the suffering would end soon. But feeling like that is so hard when you selfishly don’t want them to go.

In her typical way, she had other ideas. She clung on for 6 more agonising days, finally passing peacefully in her sleep on Saturday May 21st.

I had been to see her that morning. I sat holding her hand and watched as she slept. When it was time to go, as I had done each time I had left her side the days before, I couldn’t bring myself to say goodbye. Not knowing if it would be the last time. So as I gave her a soft but lingering kiss on the forehead I said “Goodnight, God bless. I love you” and each time without fail the tears would form as I glanced behind me before my exit.

I hadn’t been home long when the call came. I saw “mum” appear on my phone and I knew. I sat to answer. She was gone. I literally broke. Right there and then the flood gates opened. Even now writing this my eyes are streaming recalling that moment. 

So now I sit today in my garden two weeks on, waiting to visit her in the chapel of rest before she is laid to ground on Thursday. 

The time has passed so slowly since. In an odd way life moves on. Things seem normal and then there are moments when it hits me all over again. She’s gone. Never again will she share stories of me as a toddler waving around her priceless Royal Albert dinner service. Or the time I got my granddad drunk on 2 hot toddies. Never again will I jump from sitting on her finger whilst she rolls around in hysterics laughing- (that one never got old for her)! 

There were so, so many great times we shared, and too many tears along the way. But regardless of the situation she was, and always will be a formidable woman. A force to be reckoned with. A trait that I hope to have inherited from her. 

But now she sleeps. 

To my Nanna always and forever my inspiration, I will love you with every breath in me. 

Rest in peace my darling X

Absolute

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So yet again I’m late on posting this but better late than never I guess… I’m finally pleased to say that as of April 4th I’m no longer married.. And do you know what I’m still alive. Still smiling. Still doing what I do. I cannot lie and say that I don’t have the odd wobble, in fact a few days before I received this letter I called an old pal of mine mid “breakdown”.  I was breaking my own heart at the fear of getting this news. I knew it was coming and the thought of it, my marriage, being final filled my stomach with the darkest of dreads imaginable. 

I called this specific friend as she has recently been through a divorce, she knows me and (sadly) him too.  In that moment I needed someone who got it. Someone who wouldn’t judge me, or worse be concerned about me. As strange as that sounds that was and is still a big worry for me- God knows my friends and family have endured enough holding me upright of late that I just cant put them through anymore. So I picked my sounding board accordingly.

Anyway it turns out she was the best person to call, she totally talked me down from the ledge. I explained to her how I felt, the darkness consuming me, the dizzying confusion, the deep deep sadness. How I couldn’t understand why I felt so sad, so unhappy about thought of the end when really it was over two years ago, or even long before that, after all it was never real to begin with.  I wasn’t sad about him, or was I? Help me!! 

My little yoda explained to me that the sadness is due to me grieving for the life that I knew, that I built, that I loved. The life that was taken away from me. The life that will never be. 11 years of shared dreams, secrets, fears, desires, fantasies. All those nights spent planning and moving forward toward our very own happy ending, the one in which we joked about him pushing me in a wheelchair (on account of my crappy joints and dodgy back gained from years of dancing), along the beach to watch the sunset. All now just words floating on the mist, dreams dreamt never never to be realised. 

This was the cause of my tears. Not any level of pain caused by a lost love. And do you know what she was, is so right. Once I stopped over thinking; trying to understand what my sadness meant, it all made sense. So then only a couple of days later when the letter arrived I filed it right away with the mountains of paperwork caused by the various lawyers I have funded over this past 18 months and got on with my day. No drama no fuss. Full stop. And life goes on. 

From here on out April 25th is no longer my wedding anniversary but rather just another day. It’s deleted from my diary, but will always sadly be in my memory. 

I’d like to end this post with two notes, firstly to my yoda. Thank you. Your strength, empathy and wisdom helped me find that final peice of the puzzle that I so desperately needed to move on. And move on I have. Love you J! 

Secondly to all the Ladies out there who find themselves in this state. Know this; it’s normal, it’s temporary, and you will get past it. Please, please do not confuse sadness with a need to take him back. Do not allow the pain to take over you, it’s cancerous and it will swollow you whole. Lean on your friends, family, and this little blog sphere of ours to find your strength for us. 

  Onwards and upwards is the only way!!

His Mum. A can of worms?

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Catch up

I recently apologised for being MIA and neglecting my blogging, trust me when I say this isn’t because I haven’t had anything to say in fact quite the opposite is true but being a working single mum is hard and I literally haven’t had time.

So I want to fill you in… let’s go back to just before the Christmas holidays…

Dec 15th, the run up to Christmas and my heart started to ache thinking about “His” mum. If I’m honest she’s not really my kind of woman- way too needy and pathetic for my liking- (maybe that explains a lot about him?) but she has always been nice to me and we do get along. Anyway her birthday was approaching as was Christmas and I couldn’t help feel sorry that she was missing out on so much with A. After all, none of what’s happened has anything to do with her so why should she suffer as a consequence of his actions, especially when so many others are already suffering as a result of his dirty hands?

*As a bit of context to this tale her other son, has two children that he allowed her to get close to, only to then walk away from them leaving her reeling in the pain of missing her grandchildren. Seeing her struggle with the injustice of that situation first hand for 11 years plays on my conscience. I’m not sure that I can do that to her again.

So after a number of long pep talks to myself…literally out loud…I found the courage to call her. Not knowing how she would respond had me anxious and nervous, pacing the room and chain smoking. I hadn’t spoken to her since Christmas 2014 when I took A to meet her for the first time. That meeting was awkward and unsettling to say the least. There was the largest pink elephant in the room that she did not want to acknowledge- to the point that she never even mentioned that fact that I was at least half the size that I was the last time we saw one another. Stoic and aloof she sat making small talk until we were done.

And that was that.

Things then between him and I took a nasty turn with all the threats, criminal charges, the lies, my job, the move back home, my breakdown. All of which fed into my fear of not speaking to her.

Too afraid to contact her to tell her what was happening for the risk that he would twist it in to some kind of harassment, stalking or slander accusation. So I didn’t. I stayed silent. She in turn NEVER contacted me either- not once. – her excuse was she had no contact detail for me which isn’t true, I had the same mobile number until Christmas, the same email address and she had my mums address… if she wanted to get in touch she could have.

Anyway I digress, but the fact that she hadn’t been in touch led me to contemplate what stories he had told her.

Honestly this one had, and still has me baffled. I swing from left to right like a child’s ball aimlessly rolling around in the wind. One day I’m sure he hasn’t told her a thing, maybe just that I won’t let him see the baby or I’m not returning his calls or messages… to the next day when I’m convinced that he has told her I’m some wild crazy woman stalking and blackmailing him all over Germany and she needs to stay away.

So all this was swilling around my mind as I picked up the phone and called her number. Sweaty palms, pounding heart. Would she welcome me? Would she hang up after delivering a barrage of abuse at me? Would he answer?

Then the ringing stopped and there she was. It took every ounce of energy in me to control the tremble in my throat as I said who I was. A held breath; a pause just long enough to assess her reaction… thankfully she seemed genuinely pleased to hear from me. Her voice soft and calm, she asked how I was.

After the niceties were done I explained my position; I’m happy for her to see the boys if she wants to, but I would also understand if she would rather not given the situation. She immediately jumped at the opportunity.

Surprisingly though, she requested that we do it after the holidays. Huh, that had me stumped. Her birthday was only a couple of days away and Christmas just after that, so I would have though she would like to see them as a little treat to herself during this time of love and forgiveness. Later that one all became clear when I found out that he had been home for the entire festive period and well in to January. It was clear she didn’t want him to know we were speaking!! That was good news for me.

We left the call with the agreement that I would contact her after Christmas to arrange a time and date, but not before she questioned me on why I had blocked her from Facebook. I strategically chose my words; “the situation between him and I was that sever and volatile that I had to remove all contact for mine and the boys’ safety” pause for reaction.

None came.

Strange… maybe he had said something? Maybe she felt as much? Maybe she just didn’t want to know?

I left it alone and tried where I could to have a great Christmas with my babies and family.

Then I started work in January, we all got ill. One after another for (I’m not joking on and off for two whole months) then came the last round of Narc manipulation and control; the threats he made on the run up to the court date. Then mine and O’s trip to Germany- which as you will note from my blog Sky’s Above caused me a large amount of anxiety, so all said and done contacting her just didn’t feel right. Dangerous. And simply put I just wasn’t ready for another battle or to expose myself and the boys to more pain and sadness.

After my trip to Germany and it seemingly all being quiet I felt that the time was right. So I called her again, March 24th and we arranged to meet on Easter Monday at her home.

I arrived with the plan that his name would not be spoken from lips.

Upon arrival I was bright and breezy, chipper as my southern counterparts would say.

My tone set the tone of the day as she in return was sweet and pleasant. The conversation was all around A & O, general chit chat you know. As I left I firmly told her that I was happy for her to see the boys as often as she liked. She had my number and to let me know when she wants to see them again. So that was that. Another fear faced.

Maybe I’ve done the wrong thing, maybe this will come to bite me in the ass when he finds out we are speaking, or maybe this will give him another source of supply, feeling like I’m doing this to be close to him… that couldn’t be further from the truth. Who knows. One thing I will say is I’m not going to waste my precious time and energy thinking about it. What will be will be… lets just see how long it takes for her to get in touch, that’s of course if she does…

Good bye German days

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Again aboard flight. The lights of Frankfurt woven into intricate patterns, like the web of a spider glistening in the morning dew down below. I’m not sad to be leaving. I did my job. What I came here to do. Find my peace. Face my fears. Move on. 
I have laughed- hard! I saw my peeps, my ladies, my heart. 

I drank. I ate. I shared another’s celebration. I reminisced with my city, recreated a breakfast tradition for old times sake. And I smiled. From deep within I smiled. But most importantly I said goodbye, emotionally.  

Now I go willingly, on my terms but not before I gift Nuremberg a piece of my heart. My healed heart. 

I head home now to my biggest joy my boys. The job I love the most. Being a mama. 

Until next time Germany, be kind! 

My city and me; day two part two!

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Hugo, shopping my city and me- day two part two

 I can’t even describe this feeling without you all thinking I’m some weirdo but I’ll give it a go. Today has been fantastic so far. My date was fab! Peaceful, romantic, nostalgic. Amazing. 

The bustling streets; the Easter market stalls brimming with bunnies woven from straw and painted eggs hung from branches all over town. The trestle tables are sheltered from the early spring showers with red and white canopies, providing a wonderful opulent feast for the eyes. 

My vantage point, bar Alex. High above the martkplatz, the smell of coffee, crepes and bratwurst rising up, tempting me to indulge. 

There’s a slight chill in the air, but in wonderful German fashion I’m cosy warm thanks to the gratis blanket left lovingly on my chair just for my comfort.    

The blanket provides more than a touch of warmth. It’s a symbol of safety; arms engulfing me holding me close protecting me from the once dark shadows of the town around me. The streets echo with the barking laughter from the traders down below, drowned out only by the chimes of the magnificent cathedral sitting in pride of place at the head of the square.

Today I have walked every inch of this city (still wearing that smile) I and in the process I silenced my mind. 

It would be a lie to say I didn’t think of him.. How could I not. But honestly, it’s so different. Today I wanted to see him and for him to see me. I knew that in a second he would recognise the sparkle I had in my eye, the spring in my step. He would sense my contentment. He would feel the confidence and happiness emanating from my being. He would recognise this as the thing he once saw every day. The thing he threw away. The thing he will never see again. From me. From anyone. And right there he will know that I won. 

Sadly he didn’t appear, but Hugo did. Just what I need after a day of loving my city and shopping. Cold Refreshing, Lush Hugo! 

I sit with Hugo and let the world carry on around me a while longer. I think of the giggles last night with my wonderful girl friends. An odd bunch some may say, thrown together from all walks of life.. But the genius is in the crazy, and it just works. They amaze and astound me every day. Today a slower catch up with one who couldn’t make dinner last night. Adorable sweet Jess. I have so much to be thankful for. I am blessed. It’s crazy, I feel like So much has happened and I’ve only been a day and yet in context nothing has happened at all. 

I glance at my watch. Time to say goodbye to Nuremberg – for today. I’m not sad. Not at all. Tonight a party more fun, more friends.. No doubt more drinks! And maybe a boy… (Shhh it’s a secret!) 

So to you my Nuremberg, 

Tschüss Meiner Liebe!! I go with peace and calm and in knowledge and joy that I will see you again very soon! 
 

Date with Nuremberg

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I’m so happy to sit here once again. Yes Starbucks is firmly in hand and a silly school girl grin plastered right across my face. You know the kind of smile you get the day after a great date, when your sitting alone thinking of your new love and you just feel warm Inside. That’s the one. I feel almost giddy in my delight. 

I love this place. Always have done but leaving was so hard, frought with what ifs with future regrets. The Places of this city, our places became part of the cover up-part of the lie that was my life. So leaving was so bitter sweet. I felt like not only had he betrayed me but my city had to. She covered up for him. Gave him the shadows to skulk about it. And she allowed me to think life was rosey she never get me a hint! No clues at all. 

So today my plan is simple. I’m going on a date with my city. I have forgiven her and I’m allowing  her to show me her forgiveness is appreciated. 

I will hold her hand and love and document her in all her splendid glory warts and all. Through my tourist lense I’ll rewrite those past feelings and create a new story of my life here. 

So for now I will bid you tscuss and set off to fall in love!