Life after divorce

#thankful! 

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I hope that I’m not normally a gushy kinda gal when it comes to this blog…. (pause for reaction?)

But today, Christmas Day, I’m going to take artistic licence and gush just a little and as it’s Christmas forgiveness is a given!!

So here I am, Annie over, and Oliver Twist just starting (two of my favs btw!) with a wondering mind. You see I’m so, so thankful for what I have and who I get to be that I’m almost crying at the thought.

I’m a good person (I think?). I try where I can to do my bit. Not just at Christmas but throughout the year. Many can say the same I know, so I’m not saying this to be any kind of martyr nor out of any sense of guilt or ego but merely because I recognise that I have a good life. Moreover, I recognise how different life could have been for me should the coin had landed on the flip side.  One day it’s there, the next it’s gone, so I guess it’s fair to say I have empathy with those down on their luck- in fact I have buckets of the bloody stuff! After all that could have been me-could still be me, who knows what tomorrow will bring hey?

So you know what- Fuck it, yes I’m thankful. I’m grateful. And I’ll never take what I have for granted because I get it!! I do truly get it!

But for now I’m good. I’m blessed. I earn a good amount, not millions by any stretch but enough to give my boys a great life. I have family and love in abundance. Friends who would defend and support me to the death. Two amazing happy and heathy boys. And the love of a great and wonderful man. What more could a gal ask for?

That said, life isn’t perfect.

Today I feel a tinge of sadness. As I thank my blessings for all I have, I can’t help but think of those missing.

This is our first Christmas without the matriarch of our family, my nana and boy is she missed, cranky smart arsed comments and all!

As I think of her and the hole she has left today at our table, and as I kiss my baby goodnight, exhausted and over fed, I can’t help but to think of all the mums and dads who don’t have that pleasure tonight. Those who have not shared today with their most precious of belongings, their children. And do you know what, it breaks my heart. Be it through illness, divorce, separation or the finality of death the sadness of the thought overwhelms me.

I know the pain I feel with my lovely nana not being here but as much as l loved her I simply cannot imagine not being with my boys today x

So yes I’m thankful. I’m grateful beyond belief but not for the material but for the simplest of facts that I am with those who matter to me the most.

So today to all of you, those missing someone today, I wish you the strength to get through the day, the wisdom to know the feeling won’t last, and the hope that one day the pain will end xx

Happy Christmas and my thoughts are with you x

Just fuck off! 

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So as expected, with it being buba’s birthday – the inevitable parcel arrived. The token “I’m a good dad” bull shit! 

I tell you it makes me so mad! So absolutely infuriated. After everything especially the latest lawyer letter.  (oh and trust me when I tell you even you will gasp at this one. So pardon the slight digress here...)

So there I am at work, minding my own business and an email pops up from my lawyer, her preamble reads; “J, I am anticipating your response but I have to conduct due diligence”! 

Well that’s not a good start. 

What now?

What could be the next thing to hit me? 

What the fuck could he possibly want? 

I tentatively open the attached letter, from his solicitor. My eyes start to scan and although I’m reading the words I struggle to comprehend. It reads…

“Sadly our client has hit financial hardship, and would like to request that your client financially support him. We feel this is a fair request, as to date he has not asked for anything financially or otherwise from Miss ..” 

I read it over and over, my mouth hanging in aghast! And I start to laugh. 

Really? 

I mean really? 

This guy is beyond unbelievable. I’m in shock!! But credit where it’s due, what a pair of balls he has to dare ask me, ME to HELP HIM!!! He lives a lie with me for 12 years, stealing my youth, my money, my life, my happiness, my career, my confidence, my mental health to name just a few, but I should support him in “his fair request?!”

I dial my lawyer. The second she hears my voice she says “J, I know what your response is” to which I reply, “is it tell him to fucking swivel?”. “Erm, Something like that, yes!” she retorts.  

She laughs, in as much shock as I, and continues to tell me that on this occasion he actually isn’t lying, after all he hasn’t ever asked me for anything- he just took it!! Ok I’ll give her that one! 

Anyway that was that! 

So now here I am looking at this box. The smooth brown surface littered with his child like scribble.  I have no interest in what’s inside it. I throw it on the side and decide I’ll bin it later. 

O, being the curious creature he is, wants to open it. 

A fisher price till. Not much thought gone into that one. 

But not so bad I guess, at least it’s not a German speaking toy this year- (clearly no woman doing his shopping for him now!) But the thing that really got me was the card. 

He babbles away like fucking dad of the year, gushing about how he had one of these toys and how he hopes A has as much fun with it as he did!  Then the “Love Daddy” sign off. #definedaddy #definelove!

As O reads the card I can literally feel myself recoiling. Bile riding up in my throat from the pits of my stomach, my face contorting in sheer disgust. I want it gone. I want him gone! 

The fact is I have worked so, so hard to remove any trace of him, or us from my life, our lives- mine and the boys, that the thought of having anything in my home that his hands have touched makes me feel physically sick! 

It’s so transparent so pitiful and so selfish of him to continue to do this. Pop up twice a year (Christmas and birthday’s) all the while telling himself it’s for the boys,  he’s doing the right thing!

Well I’m calling Bull shit on that one!

I know it’s just to remind us of his presence; he’s so scared of being irrelevant, forgotten he just can’t walk away.

Well one way or another this is over. I sit now and contemplate how to bring this to an end once and for all; 

A letter from my lawyer demanding no further contact, perhaps? 

Return to sender with a do not contact us again note, possibly? 

Not known at this address? Hmm! 

I’m not sure yet,  but one thing is for sure, no more! I’ve held my silence for two years now, and I’m done. He needs to understand we don’t care. We never want to see, hear from, or think of him again. Ever! 

So to you Neil, just FUCK OFF!! 

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! 

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! 

Another milestone

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A couple of weeks ago one of my followers commented on one of my previous posts asking why I hadn’t or if I ever planned to write about “D Day”.  My reply was that it was just too painful to do so at this time but yes I eventually would.  Then last week this photo appeared in my Facebook memories feed…The announcement of my second pregnancy. Posted two years ago to the day, Feb 28th.

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It took me right back. To that place. You see I posted that picture tagging him in, strategically. And, as expected, within moments my news feed notifications sprung alive with messages of congratulations and love for me and my husband from friends and family near and far. I sat alone in my big cold German home with tears gushing down my sullen face watching the tally rise into the hundreds, comment, like, comment, like. I honestly don’t think there was anyone in our network who hadn’t seen it. Good.

You see what most people didn’t realise was that on this day, one of the two happiest days of my life, or what should have been was actually the worst. Known forever more as D Day…

My husband had left me for another woman only a matter of hours previous. Me 10 weeks pregnant. My posting of that picture- when the only other person in the world who knew at that time was Oliver, was not in celebration, to share my joy with the world, it was out of anger. If he was going to walk out on me I was going to make sure everyone knew that he had left me pregnant.

The following day also happened to be another significant day. Feb 29th. A leap year. 11 years ago to the day we got engaged. I’m not sure if it’s poetry in motion or an evil twist of fate that these two things coincided the way that they did, the beginning and the end of something wonderful nestled next to each other, hand in hand like sleeping twins… so close and yet so far. 11 years of a love cherished, memories made, traditions created, dreams realised, hopes shared, pain halved, struggles survived, successes celebrated and a child raised. Gone in the blink of an eye.

I sit today thinking about these two dates, the significance of yet another couple of milestones achieved, anniversaries past and rather than be sad about it, I’m celebrating. I’m celebrating because these dates just crept up on me. Without warning or notice. Bang there they were. Telling me that I’m done, at last; I was no longer dreading events, counting the days- forever looking back, I didn’t even notice that these dates were here already until they appeared on my feed.

Does this mean I’m healed? Well I wouldn’t go that far i clearly have a lot of issues to deal with (you’ll hear more about those soon) but one thing is for sure I am on my way. And that makes me smile. So today  I smile signing my divorce papers, knowing that i won. I won Financially, Emotionally and Physically, and i have my boys to celebrate with.

For those of you waiting to hear about D day you will. I’m ready. So watch this space over the coming weeks!

Calling “Bull Shit” on New Year, New You!

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New year new you Many people across the world will be sitting on this, another New Year’s Eve, the metaphorical and literal brink of a new dawn, reflecting on what was and contemplating what may be.
Making promises to themselves that this is their year. New Year, New Me!

Not me… I’m calling Bull Shit on “New Year, New Me”!

Almost everyday for the past 15 months I’ve looked back. I’ve analysed every detail of my past life with fresh eyes, with the benefit of hindsight and with the new knowledge I’ve gained along the way.

And you know what…Nothing’s changed!

The past is still the past. Nothing, not one thing has changed, not one iota. (Not that I would actually want it to change! But there we are)!

Conversely, I look ahead. I plan for the future, I set goals and targets, everyday. Milestones no matter how small or insignificant they may seem, they help me feel like I’m moving forward in some guise or another. One vitally important thing has, through this exercise, engrained itself in my mind; No amount of planning, wishing, hoping or believing will change the course of destiny. What will be will be. It’s that simple!!

I’m not saying don’t have dreams, and I’m not encouraging that you lose faith, far from it in fact. I’m not even saying don’t change or make plans to change. But do it despite “New Year”. Do it today, NOW. Tomorrow. Next week. Whenever you feel the need to change something in your life just get on with it. Don’t wait for the next birthday or the next New Year. Just do it now!

As a society we punish ourselves so much, always feeling less than. Always wishing we were more, could do more, earn more, love more. And with that and the dawn of a New Year comes massive expectation to full fill those wishes.

For what?

To punish ourselves that our resolutions failed before work starts again on the 4th. To look back and agonise, full of regrets of opportunities missed in the year gone by.

So why bother?

Why do we Insist on jumping on this band wagon year after year?

We just never learn!

So I sit here choosing to ignore the hype and instead select to bring in the new year with my boys. The only people in this world who know what my heart sounds like from the inside. And that makes me happy. We let off a Chinese lantern to mark the occasion, a symbol of letting the past go and bringing in the new with love and light. But that’s it – it’s just a symbol. I’m not going to dwell, but just live in the moment.

I won’t spout any clichés about my blessing and losses, I’ve done that enough over the course of this divorce journey. Nor will I make promises or resolutions only to be disappointed if the universe has other plans for me. I’m just going to wake tomorrow and see what this crazy life has in store for me. Come what may, whatever is waiting to greet me I’ll deal with it!

I’ll learn my lessons, in the moment and I’ll course correct accordingly. Right there and then!

So I say Bull Shit to New Year, New You”! And instead I say “Happy New Year to the best you you can be today tomorrow and everyday!”

To constant evolution.

To being kind to ourselves.

…Because we all deserve it!

Gifts from “Daddy”

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Christmas gifts

Another Christmas Day, come and gone.

A full year of moments, dates, special occasions passed as a single mother. It’s been 15 months now. I’ve gone through the full cycle, and I feel like I’ve finally hit my stride. Of course there are still some fleeting thoughts of what if’s, why me, how did this happen but they are few and far between. For the most part I’m either too busy with the necessitates of life or creating memories with my boys. Memories like yesterday. My first Christmas dinner as the hostess with the mostest again.

11 of my family descended upon me to devour a feast prepared by my own fair hands. These are the moments that matter. That said, the festive day did have a dark cloud of his size and shape looming over it. I tried my best to blow it away and to a large degree I did, but this morning it’s back, darker and gloomier than before.

The day before Christmas Eve my mum gave me a box, the front decorated with his child like scrawl, addressed to my boys. Some might say this is progress. He’s sending gifts (he didn’t even bother with a text last year) but I see it differently. I see her. His new cover story.

Albert received a big toy; dancing animals, flashing lights and songs sung in German. Oliver a book. The diary of a wimpy kid. And that right there is the point. He would have noticed the toy sung in German, her being German wouldn’t. He would have known that yes, Oliver liked (focus on past tense) the wimpy kid series… When he was 9!!! She again would not.

It makes me so angry. Sick in fact. It also makes me very curious as to what exactly he has told her about why he isn’t seeing the boys. My guess is I’m the bad guy, I’m unreasonable, I cut contact, I won’t let him see them…either way she is oblivious to the truth. In addition how can I keep gifts in my home that have been touched by her filthy home wrecking hands?

So what to do?

I could give them to his mum when I see her after Christmas (yes we’ve been in touch, but that’s a story for another post), I could send them back to him with a spiteful bitter note telling him if he wants to show he cares he should get off his hustler ass and buy them himself or not bother at all. Or I could send them to her, with a gift in return… A gift of the truth. Not my truth HER truth.

You see she thinks she’s the cat that got the cream; the handsome Man, the successful provider, the hero who showers her with praise, gifts and compliments all the while playing away like the filthy sewer rat he is. And she, the poor cow, has no clue. She sits smugly picking out gifts for my kids like she’s fucking Mother Teresa. Her pathetic attempts to help him smooth the way over what ever lie he’s fed her. If it wasn’t so pitiful it would be hysterical.

He is here in the UK. I don’t know, nor care if she’s here. But I know he is. He flashed up on my tinder profile on the 23rd only 29km away. Even at Christmas he can’t just enjoy friends and family, he just has to find a local squeeze. Even funnier he is using old photos, pictures taken whilst with me. On one he actually cut me out of the pictures… Cheeky so and so. It’s truly very sad.

Back to the question in hand… What should I do?

I really have no idea what the best option is, but I do know we will not be keeping these gifts sitting here with them in our home turns my stomach. So I simply cannot sit and watch my beautiful boys with these items when all I see is her…does that make me a terrible person? Putting my own bitterness ahead of my children’s enjoyment of a couple of stupid toys?!

What would you do, I’d love to hear?!

 

Sunday Mornings

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Our churchToday I’m in a funk. Actually I’ve been in this funk for a few days now. Maybe it’s just the time of year, dark gloomy weather combined with the memories of the past Christmas, my first alone in oh, such a long time. My first with Albert. Or possibly it’s just sheer exhaustion gained from a gregarious baby who is simply refusing to sleep! Either way I’m feeling low.

I shouldn’t really be sad, I mean I sit here today cosy in my warm home, the wind blowing a gale outside my window. Albert’s snuggled in under my chin watching Christmas movies both of us in our pj’s and Oliver still in bed… He is a teenager after all. What could be better?

Well it’s Sunday morning. Which for as long as I can remember was my time. Prior to our moved to DE “he” would take Oli out for an adventure and give me an extra hour or two in bed. Bliss! We playfully called it “daddily duddly” time! The “adventure” itself may have only been going for a hair cut or a trip to the supermarket but let’s face it, time alone with daddy to a little boy is always exciting.

Oli loved their mornings together. On their return he would babble away about the games they played whilst driving; who won at eye spy and that daddy cheated, as always! Him beaming at his happy boy and the fun they had. A proud daddy for sure! Me happy with the love in my home. Life was good!

Then we moved to DE and the ritual of me time continued. The only difference being without the sleep. I would potter on in to town to meet my ladies. Two amazing ladies might I add!

Sunday morning breakfast became our church. We complained about the kids, the husbands, the other mum’s, chevron stripes, work etc but we always laughed. God we laughed! Especially when it came to ordering (in our broken German) which often went something like this…
“drei Omelettes mit Schinken und Käse bitte”
“drei?”
“Ja.”
“mit Schinken und Käse?”
“Ja!!!”
“Omelettes?”
“JA!”

Her-Huffs gets stress, cannot understand three women ordering three breakfasts.

Us- roll eyes, giggle- why doesn’t she get this? Every week it’s the same ritual?? Seriously even our German isn’t that bad!

During the summer we would sit outside basking in the sun for way too long; batting off calls from the kids fighting back home, or texts from the hubby asking where we put whatever unimportant object he couldn’t find, because it’s not right under his nose.
We would plan our next outing – generally a beer festival of some kind, or just a good old drinking session! During the winter we moved inside drowning in layer upon layer of German winter protection!

We would reminisce of times past, friends absent – still missed, but we always laughed. Regardless of the seriousness of the topic of the day these ladies knew just how to take any situation and take the piss. Even surviving cancer didn’t escape our gentle teasing!

On the occasions my ladies and I didn’t meet, “he”, Oli and I would do something together. Go to a flomarkt, visit a new town, go for a bike ride or simply go for breakfast together in one of the hundreds of cafes on our doorstep. It was great family time. Once again I felt so blessed for the joy and love in my home. Life in my eyes couldn’t have been better. Clearly he and I were not on the same page…he took advantage of my “me time” to get some “him” time  and the second I left the house he dashed off to shag his slutty mistress of the day!

After “D day” breakfast with my bitches continued but now we had a new team member in Albert!
Loved and pamper by my girls the poor kid was swapped between them a million times during those few hours together.
The laughing had slowed as they listened sympathetically to whatever new piece of information I had to share on the state of my once happy life and marriage. Even after weeks and months of story’s of his disgraceful behaviour they still sat and listened to my endless whining. Always offering support, words of love, of strength.
Often shocked at the new revelation but yet not surprised. Even back then, with the little we knew of exactly what he had been doing, we wouldn’t have put anything past him. He was capable of anything! And has proven as such a million times over.

Those breakfasts were my sanctuary, my safety, my sanity! And today they are still so precious to me, so much so, as I sit here today I miss it so much it hurts.

God bless you ladies and the memories you’ve given me. I hope and pray that this Devine universe will one day give us all Sunday morning breakfast together once again!

xxx