It always fascinates me that the expectation is that relatives are the ones that support you no matter what, whilst friends come and go.
It is a strange expectation since the reality is that friends generally support you no matter what and relatives generally, annoy the hell out of you.
The last couple of weeks has seen an upward rise in my level of sheer exhaustion. For some reason life has been a tad relentless and not even the weekend provided for a later start. From teenage pick ups to Sunday morning Rugby - as much as I hankered for a little loafing under goose down, it wasn't going to happen.
It's when really tired that I find it hardest to switch off and so, with no common sense whatsoever - I embark on insane de-cluttering. Within 4 days I had removed 4 packing boxes full of 'stuff' and deposited them across Wiltshire's charity shops. My huge jar for make up, one for nails, one for hair - an entire Georgian cupboard full of body lotion and boob tape, a medicine cabinet reminiscent of a pharmacy and a store cupboard worthy of a nuclear shelter. Everything was halved.
Including my energy levels. Monday morning felt like a Friday, starting a little chaotically when I realised I had neglected to buy food. The week deteriotes. Everyday at work alongside trying to sling in 2 parents consultations, one 3 hour meeting with the visual impairment team, the EA IT specialist, Head of year and Head of SEN to try and trash out a solution to the multitude of problems for one of the offspring. Tuesday sees a home visit from VI lady and the mobility specialist. By the time they left, I had 8 minutes to get to a business pitch. By the time that finished, I had 26 minutes to finish some work that was sure to take longer. And so the week has gone on.
Then there are the minor things, like keeping up with the washing and mess created by four other people sharing your space, the 45 emotional melt down, the big argument with one child, the homework, the general chaos and having to find time for a bath every morning.
Last week was little better and at one weak moment, commented to a member of the family that I was in fact, utterly exhausted. Following a typically relative reply about how they had done their time working, I pointed out that they had never had the added bonus of being a single parent to four children.
'Well" they said "It was your choice"
"I beg your pardon" I reply in my most incredulous voice (IIIII BEG your parduuun?)
When (not unreasonably, I thought) point out that no one in their right mind would have 4 children by themselves through choice and in fact, not only had the ex husband been really very controlling, he had been doing things he ought not with a woman with a preference for married men and Polyester. Clearly if anyone was making a choice, it was him (And thank god he did) Given the circumstances, I think choice was a most irritating view.
"Well" they say "You could have forgiven him"
Thank god for friends.
Friday 11 November 2011
Tuesday 8 November 2011
Two sides of the same coin
To a man I was in a relationship with, "Everytime we hurt someone, we make it a little harder for that person to love the next"
Since he nodded his head vehemently, I took that to mean he understood the concept. He may well have done but on reflection, failedd to grasp the responsibility in the statemnet. It seems that for some, for whatever reason - there own issues overtake the need to make sure that those who have been close are not unnecessarily damaged in the process of knowing them.
So this is where I ponder the responsibility. I have realised of late that following the couple of relationsships that I have had, I am developing a deep sense of mistrust in others. If it was an overall scepticism, I could probably live with that but this is a full scale analytical panic if any man is nice to me. In my head runs the same script "Why are they being nice, what do they want, are they flirting, are they making a play, are they trying to screw with my head"?
It is a deeply disturbing experience. I want to believe in the good, I want to believe in authenticity, of kindness. Ireally, genuinly, wholeheartedly want to believe that people are genuine but if they have a penis, I have a million red flags flying.
I hate thinking like this. It seems I have gone from one end of the spectrum of trust to the other and it is not a pleasent experience. If a man is being nice, is being genuine - then he probably wants to have sex and he will undoubtedly try to screw with my mind at the same time.
In midst of full on panic that someone was about to mess with my mind, I phone a friend. A male friend. I snivel down the phone that I cannot bear not trusting people. He tells me never to trust any man. Great.
So now I have to question the responsibility issue. Is it someone else's responsibility to make sure that your trust in humans is not anhilated by their behaviour or actions, or is it mine for allowing the actions of others to have a negative impact on the way I view the world.
I am really not sure but I profoundly hope that any impact I have had on men I have ever been in arelationship - is not one that makes it harder for them to care about the next person.
Since he nodded his head vehemently, I took that to mean he understood the concept. He may well have done but on reflection, failedd to grasp the responsibility in the statemnet. It seems that for some, for whatever reason - there own issues overtake the need to make sure that those who have been close are not unnecessarily damaged in the process of knowing them.
So this is where I ponder the responsibility. I have realised of late that following the couple of relationsships that I have had, I am developing a deep sense of mistrust in others. If it was an overall scepticism, I could probably live with that but this is a full scale analytical panic if any man is nice to me. In my head runs the same script "Why are they being nice, what do they want, are they flirting, are they making a play, are they trying to screw with my head"?
It is a deeply disturbing experience. I want to believe in the good, I want to believe in authenticity, of kindness. Ireally, genuinly, wholeheartedly want to believe that people are genuine but if they have a penis, I have a million red flags flying.
I hate thinking like this. It seems I have gone from one end of the spectrum of trust to the other and it is not a pleasent experience. If a man is being nice, is being genuine - then he probably wants to have sex and he will undoubtedly try to screw with my mind at the same time.
In midst of full on panic that someone was about to mess with my mind, I phone a friend. A male friend. I snivel down the phone that I cannot bear not trusting people. He tells me never to trust any man. Great.
So now I have to question the responsibility issue. Is it someone else's responsibility to make sure that your trust in humans is not anhilated by their behaviour or actions, or is it mine for allowing the actions of others to have a negative impact on the way I view the world.
I am really not sure but I profoundly hope that any impact I have had on men I have ever been in arelationship - is not one that makes it harder for them to care about the next person.
Wednesday 2 November 2011
Friends with benefits
"When I first met you, you were one of the most intelligent women I had ever met"
Pause.....
"And over time, you have just got progressively thicker"
It would be easy to take offense at such comment, butit is quite the most amusing thing anyone has ever said to me. More than that, there is clear truth in its content. Sometimes I say things that surprise me with unexpected astuteness and other times, I say things so spectacularly stupid they border on impressive.
Last week I had a text from a man who kindly told me that I light up the lives of others. In the same text he told me that I was erudite. I had to google the word.I now suspect that I light up the lives of others, primarily due to my moments of utter and complete denseness.
It was in this text I had to consider other areas of stupidity. Such as having an extensive collection of utterly gorgeous male friends. I love male friends. Male friends are straight in what they say, they have (on the whole) a sharper humour, less sides and are less interested in fluff. They also speak less than I do, which is pretty convenient, since I rarely pause for breath.
Married, in relationships or single, male friends are my bench mark for emotional security. They make me laugh, they roll their eyes in affection, they hug me if on rare occasion I cry and they are always, always kind. More than this, my male friends are safe because they are all emotionally stable and secure.
Which makes me wonder why none of the beautiful male friends I have in my life are men that I would ever date. This alone must indicate some spectacular level of dimness. I find them all attractive in their own way but not one of them has ever sparked chemistry. And that is because they are lovely. If I put them into a dating category they would only say nie things until they got what they wanted. Keep them in the friendship category and they always say nice things. I have long said that the idea of something is always better than the reality. One of my oldest sexiest male friends is a man I went out with in my 20's. I never slept with him and swear blind that this is why we are still friends. I recognise that I may have some control issues going on here!
One of my dearest friends is a man I met on a date. I adore him, he more than tolerates me. I love his children, he loves mine. We go out regularly together, we go on holiday together. Yet despite the fact that we get on so well, I feel no chemistry and as such,not even a kiss has passed between us. In between dating and in moments of boredom I will get random texts asking me for some sort of sexual favour, but we both know that once my mind is made up, nothing will change it.
And like all of my male friends; if he wasn't so nice, wasn't so stable, wasn't so dependable I would probably find him stimulating in a multitude of ways. Now that is stupidity.
Or is it? Any relationship that starts with chemistry will surely develop into a calmer state in which friendship, respect, tolerance and most of all - acceptance will become primary features. And yet it is this state of acceptance, perhaps contentment that causes the likes of people like me to break out in a cold sweat.
Which makes me wonder - what in gods name is contentment? Is it a compromise, a word with negative association - of old couples that want nothing and totter about in anticipation of Coronation Street being aired. When I was married I accepted my lot but I never felt contented, I spent most of it wondering what life would be like if you met your soulmate.
So in fact, if contended is not wanting for more but being contended with what you have then perhaps contended is better than acceptance. Then again, perhaps you only reach contented when you have reached acceptance of yourself and others. Acceptance is clearly about accepting the things youcannot change and sotrting out the crap in the things you can.
Perhaps it is all simply too confusing.
Pause.....
"And over time, you have just got progressively thicker"
It would be easy to take offense at such comment, butit is quite the most amusing thing anyone has ever said to me. More than that, there is clear truth in its content. Sometimes I say things that surprise me with unexpected astuteness and other times, I say things so spectacularly stupid they border on impressive.
Last week I had a text from a man who kindly told me that I light up the lives of others. In the same text he told me that I was erudite. I had to google the word.I now suspect that I light up the lives of others, primarily due to my moments of utter and complete denseness.
It was in this text I had to consider other areas of stupidity. Such as having an extensive collection of utterly gorgeous male friends. I love male friends. Male friends are straight in what they say, they have (on the whole) a sharper humour, less sides and are less interested in fluff. They also speak less than I do, which is pretty convenient, since I rarely pause for breath.
Married, in relationships or single, male friends are my bench mark for emotional security. They make me laugh, they roll their eyes in affection, they hug me if on rare occasion I cry and they are always, always kind. More than this, my male friends are safe because they are all emotionally stable and secure.
Which makes me wonder why none of the beautiful male friends I have in my life are men that I would ever date. This alone must indicate some spectacular level of dimness. I find them all attractive in their own way but not one of them has ever sparked chemistry. And that is because they are lovely. If I put them into a dating category they would only say nie things until they got what they wanted. Keep them in the friendship category and they always say nice things. I have long said that the idea of something is always better than the reality. One of my oldest sexiest male friends is a man I went out with in my 20's. I never slept with him and swear blind that this is why we are still friends. I recognise that I may have some control issues going on here!
One of my dearest friends is a man I met on a date. I adore him, he more than tolerates me. I love his children, he loves mine. We go out regularly together, we go on holiday together. Yet despite the fact that we get on so well, I feel no chemistry and as such,not even a kiss has passed between us. In between dating and in moments of boredom I will get random texts asking me for some sort of sexual favour, but we both know that once my mind is made up, nothing will change it.
And like all of my male friends; if he wasn't so nice, wasn't so stable, wasn't so dependable I would probably find him stimulating in a multitude of ways. Now that is stupidity.
Or is it? Any relationship that starts with chemistry will surely develop into a calmer state in which friendship, respect, tolerance and most of all - acceptance will become primary features. And yet it is this state of acceptance, perhaps contentment that causes the likes of people like me to break out in a cold sweat.
Which makes me wonder - what in gods name is contentment? Is it a compromise, a word with negative association - of old couples that want nothing and totter about in anticipation of Coronation Street being aired. When I was married I accepted my lot but I never felt contented, I spent most of it wondering what life would be like if you met your soulmate.
So in fact, if contended is not wanting for more but being contended with what you have then perhaps contended is better than acceptance. Then again, perhaps you only reach contented when you have reached acceptance of yourself and others. Acceptance is clearly about accepting the things youcannot change and sotrting out the crap in the things you can.
Perhaps it is all simply too confusing.
Sunday 10 July 2011
An interesting supper party
I have made two decisions this week, the first was to restart the Gym membership. Following last years collapse I am trying to avoid looking at any more Russian army exercise videos on you tube. I am also trying to hypnotise myself so that when the instructor say's "Women are not designed to do these kind of exercises" that I simply smile and nod in agreement instead of trying to prove him wrong.
I was immensely chuffed to prove him wrong but the smugness of doing so lasted 3 weeks until the big collapse. As a result, a year later and I can't do any. So I am rejoining the gym for the use of the steam room. I may venture into the gym. The words 'well toned' are just a little compelling.
The other decision I made was to have an interesting supper party. I thought about doing this six months ago but think many things that I never actually do. So I decided to just get on with it.
My interesting supper party is inviting people for supper that I have found interesting. I don't really know them, but for the brief period I met them, they interested me. Based on the theory that everyone comes into your life for a reason, I figured that it would simply be interesting to have interesting people around.
So far, I have invited my work colleague, just because she is utterly gorgeous. Her husband is insane and very interesting, so he got an invite. Then there is a man that has started many companies, almost all with an eco edge. Met through a meeting he requested about marketing, the conversation soon left work and moved into Shamanism - definitely interesting.
Guest no 4 is the Marketeer with his own branding agency. I met him for no more than 20 minutes at a gallery opening. The conversation was entirely on the definition of masculinity. Since I have a growing and enthusiastic appreciation for masculinity, it fascinated me to meet a man that was so well read on the subject.
Supper party guest number 5 is a woman I met for no more than 10 minutes about 9 years ago. An ex 80's minor pop star that then went onto start a successful business, we struck up a conversation in a doctors surgery abut a book called 'The Indigo children' She was very interesting. Thankfully she remembered meeting me and is delighted to be coming.
Guests no 6 is a little tricky. She doesn't want to come without her husband, despite the fact that she is interesting on her own. I had to say no, since this is my evening of people that are interesting and I have never met her husband. Perhaps a little harsh, but bringing unmet spouses would blow the reason for having this supper. Besides, since I do not have a husband and even when I did, would merrily go out without him - I have too little empathy to bend the rules. I shall work on her, she needs to be there.
Guest number 7 is a thoroughly interesting female who has one of the most interesting families you could ever meet. Every one in it is about as creative as it is possible to be. Since I cannot invite all 6 of them, she will have to be the spokesperson.
I am toying with inviting another man, met on a business course - that was so at peace with himself and the world around, such utter acceptance that he could have been Buddha himself. I am debating his invite. I am not convinced he will find us interesting enough.
I, of course will be there. This on the basis that my claim to being interesting is that I had the idea of the interesting supper party. If this workout, I shall rename it the interesting supper-club. Each month, I shall invite 4 interesting people and they will be required to each invite an interesting person they have met.
So that is it. An interesting idea
I was immensely chuffed to prove him wrong but the smugness of doing so lasted 3 weeks until the big collapse. As a result, a year later and I can't do any. So I am rejoining the gym for the use of the steam room. I may venture into the gym. The words 'well toned' are just a little compelling.
The other decision I made was to have an interesting supper party. I thought about doing this six months ago but think many things that I never actually do. So I decided to just get on with it.
My interesting supper party is inviting people for supper that I have found interesting. I don't really know them, but for the brief period I met them, they interested me. Based on the theory that everyone comes into your life for a reason, I figured that it would simply be interesting to have interesting people around.
So far, I have invited my work colleague, just because she is utterly gorgeous. Her husband is insane and very interesting, so he got an invite. Then there is a man that has started many companies, almost all with an eco edge. Met through a meeting he requested about marketing, the conversation soon left work and moved into Shamanism - definitely interesting.
Guest no 4 is the Marketeer with his own branding agency. I met him for no more than 20 minutes at a gallery opening. The conversation was entirely on the definition of masculinity. Since I have a growing and enthusiastic appreciation for masculinity, it fascinated me to meet a man that was so well read on the subject.
Supper party guest number 5 is a woman I met for no more than 10 minutes about 9 years ago. An ex 80's minor pop star that then went onto start a successful business, we struck up a conversation in a doctors surgery abut a book called 'The Indigo children' She was very interesting. Thankfully she remembered meeting me and is delighted to be coming.
Guests no 6 is a little tricky. She doesn't want to come without her husband, despite the fact that she is interesting on her own. I had to say no, since this is my evening of people that are interesting and I have never met her husband. Perhaps a little harsh, but bringing unmet spouses would blow the reason for having this supper. Besides, since I do not have a husband and even when I did, would merrily go out without him - I have too little empathy to bend the rules. I shall work on her, she needs to be there.
Guest number 7 is a thoroughly interesting female who has one of the most interesting families you could ever meet. Every one in it is about as creative as it is possible to be. Since I cannot invite all 6 of them, she will have to be the spokesperson.
I am toying with inviting another man, met on a business course - that was so at peace with himself and the world around, such utter acceptance that he could have been Buddha himself. I am debating his invite. I am not convinced he will find us interesting enough.
I, of course will be there. This on the basis that my claim to being interesting is that I had the idea of the interesting supper party. If this workout, I shall rename it the interesting supper-club. Each month, I shall invite 4 interesting people and they will be required to each invite an interesting person they have met.
So that is it. An interesting idea
Saturday 9 July 2011
Sex on my mind
I have been thinking about sex lately. A lot. In fact, there have been times when it has all I have been able to think about.
Today I had a meeting. Quite an important one in which I had to prep thoroughly to ensure that nothing but confident knowledge was exuded. In a momentary pause, I googled the man I was due to meet. 'Not bad' I thought - so I googled a little more. Then I stumbled across a picture that included his forearms.
I have for some time recognised that I can lose all rational thought process when confronted with well toned muscle and alas, this man had a dangerous combination of extremely muscular forearms and the slightly mischievous trade mark look of a player. Sadly, it is a combination that I find compelling. Dangerous but compelling. I knew I was heading into dangerous territory.
So the meeting went ahead. We talked of strategy, policy and messaging. By the end of the meeting, the raised eyebrow appeared. The one that say's "You are not what I was expecting" then the look that you know that should you wish that the work remit extended, it would take no more than a little cerebral dance and it's a done deal.
So another meeting has been arranged, in a pub. Strictly business at this point but strictly speaking, possibly not. Since I have had nothing but fairly inappropriate thoughts for some time - I made up my mind that I was going to drop my stance on meaningless sex and just start having meaningless sex. It lasted until about 9pm until I went to the garage and was blatantly checked out by two men.
I realised that meaningless sex was no more than momentary gratification. I could repackage as being in control, taking the pleasure without the grief of intimacy and without the risk of hurt. By ruling out a relationship, I would be in control. If I was in control, I just got sex when I felt like it and could just take physical pleasure.
And here is the reality. Devaluing my own view of sex and intimacy and convincing myself that I would be in control - was a guaranteed passport to misery. Devaluing sex would simply anaesthetise myself to true intimacy. I am not talking about life long commitment, but the level of intimacy you can reach when someone trusts you with their body and mind and them yours. Sex for sex's sake is never going to be as good as sex with someone with which there is a connection that is more than gratification or validation. A connection deeper than carnal need.
Don't get me wrong, there is nothing wrong with carnal need, but if I switched off the emotional side simply to have sex with men I barely knew, than I would be living on a permanent power high. And it is a high that you would risk being addicted to. No single person would ever match that hit on a long term level and so I would create a cycle difficult to break.
And lets face it, it wouldn't be hard to achieve. If you put your mind to it, there is no more difficulty in finding willing participants than there is finding a petrol station. And this is the bit I don't get - there is no challenge. It doesn't take long before you can instantly spot the signs of someone willing to go the distance. It's simply too easy, like candy from a child. There is no true respect involved and aside from the instantaneous gratification, the long term emotional risks are too high.
Mind blowing sex is not technique, it is a level reached when two people have attained a level of emotional intimacy that is equal and shared. You can only reach that plateau when you completely accept another person. Respecting and embracing the opposite sex is also a step up the ladder towards the kind of sex that creates a healthy addiction.
Tempting as it was brief, I shall not be venturing into the chalk it up approach to sex. If I don't respect myself or anyone else, than it would seem unreasonable to expect anyone to respect me. Though I loved the idea for a moment, I know that it would be a slippery emotional slope that it would be difficult to climb back up from.
So I shall carry on being old fashioned in my view. I like being able to remember the men I have been intimate with. I like that I can remember individual and unique things about them, I like the fact that my feeling was sufficient for them then, that even after, I would choose only for them to be happy. To be so anaesthetised to intimacy that I would struggle to remember names is not a route I aspire to travel.
And so I shall remain old fashioned and very frustrated.
Today I had a meeting. Quite an important one in which I had to prep thoroughly to ensure that nothing but confident knowledge was exuded. In a momentary pause, I googled the man I was due to meet. 'Not bad' I thought - so I googled a little more. Then I stumbled across a picture that included his forearms.
I have for some time recognised that I can lose all rational thought process when confronted with well toned muscle and alas, this man had a dangerous combination of extremely muscular forearms and the slightly mischievous trade mark look of a player. Sadly, it is a combination that I find compelling. Dangerous but compelling. I knew I was heading into dangerous territory.
So the meeting went ahead. We talked of strategy, policy and messaging. By the end of the meeting, the raised eyebrow appeared. The one that say's "You are not what I was expecting" then the look that you know that should you wish that the work remit extended, it would take no more than a little cerebral dance and it's a done deal.
So another meeting has been arranged, in a pub. Strictly business at this point but strictly speaking, possibly not. Since I have had nothing but fairly inappropriate thoughts for some time - I made up my mind that I was going to drop my stance on meaningless sex and just start having meaningless sex. It lasted until about 9pm until I went to the garage and was blatantly checked out by two men.
I realised that meaningless sex was no more than momentary gratification. I could repackage as being in control, taking the pleasure without the grief of intimacy and without the risk of hurt. By ruling out a relationship, I would be in control. If I was in control, I just got sex when I felt like it and could just take physical pleasure.
And here is the reality. Devaluing my own view of sex and intimacy and convincing myself that I would be in control - was a guaranteed passport to misery. Devaluing sex would simply anaesthetise myself to true intimacy. I am not talking about life long commitment, but the level of intimacy you can reach when someone trusts you with their body and mind and them yours. Sex for sex's sake is never going to be as good as sex with someone with which there is a connection that is more than gratification or validation. A connection deeper than carnal need.
Don't get me wrong, there is nothing wrong with carnal need, but if I switched off the emotional side simply to have sex with men I barely knew, than I would be living on a permanent power high. And it is a high that you would risk being addicted to. No single person would ever match that hit on a long term level and so I would create a cycle difficult to break.
And lets face it, it wouldn't be hard to achieve. If you put your mind to it, there is no more difficulty in finding willing participants than there is finding a petrol station. And this is the bit I don't get - there is no challenge. It doesn't take long before you can instantly spot the signs of someone willing to go the distance. It's simply too easy, like candy from a child. There is no true respect involved and aside from the instantaneous gratification, the long term emotional risks are too high.
Mind blowing sex is not technique, it is a level reached when two people have attained a level of emotional intimacy that is equal and shared. You can only reach that plateau when you completely accept another person. Respecting and embracing the opposite sex is also a step up the ladder towards the kind of sex that creates a healthy addiction.
Tempting as it was brief, I shall not be venturing into the chalk it up approach to sex. If I don't respect myself or anyone else, than it would seem unreasonable to expect anyone to respect me. Though I loved the idea for a moment, I know that it would be a slippery emotional slope that it would be difficult to climb back up from.
So I shall carry on being old fashioned in my view. I like being able to remember the men I have been intimate with. I like that I can remember individual and unique things about them, I like the fact that my feeling was sufficient for them then, that even after, I would choose only for them to be happy. To be so anaesthetised to intimacy that I would struggle to remember names is not a route I aspire to travel.
And so I shall remain old fashioned and very frustrated.
Sunday 17 April 2011
Delivery of my new baby
I am having a lull in shoe fixes. Another torn meniscus and the longest and most hated ban on heels in the history of shoe addiction has had to see a change in purchasing high.
Meet my new baby. He took me days of reading to choose (don't start me on the the benefits of the aluminium clips) and a further 5 days to make the final decision. I could have saved a sum but could not wait. He will be here tomorrow ( I know since I am tracking his DHL status.
I have always hankered after a pressure washer.
So utterly excited and a little worried about that level of excitement
When boys become men, in search of happiness
It has been a really hard week. Certainly a crash and burn one. The physical toll has been immense, I ache to a level that I can find insufficient drugs for and I have lost 7 pounds. I have achieved nothing of any note and yet when I look back over the course of the last few days, I am stunned that not only have I survived it but at how much there has been to deal with.
This is the week in which I discover there is something potentially up with one of my beautiful boys. Not life threatening, but most certainly life changing and the implications of which do not bear thinking about. So I have tried not to. I have promised him that no matter what life throws at him, there is always a way of dealing with it, just perhaps in a different way than he assumes it will be.
Then I face the recognition that I am a little emotionally screwed. This has been a little tricky but since a lifelong pattern has not worked, the only thing to do is to change it. This in itself is no easy task but hey, I like a challenge.
It has been a watershed week in so many ways,. Inbetween all the revelation, discovery and heartache I have had to work, sort the house out and continue with both work and the business plan (and boy did that slide this week).
Having realised just how my own patterns of behaviour are based in not truly believing in love, I thought I had better check with one of the many sons that he felt loved.
"Do you feel loved"? Say I
"Of course" say's he
"I want you to know that you should never change your self to be loved by others, that you are beautiful person just the way you are" say I
"You are not really like other Mothers, are you?" say's he
(No shit, Sherlock) thinks I
"Are you happy"? I continue
"Not really" he say's "It's school"
My heart pounds, I feel alarm that if he admits to being unhappy then it must be bad, and gratitude that he feels able to raise an issue with me.
"What's up"
He looks at the floor, then looks up at me with his beautiful blue eyes
"It starts too early, finishes too late and I really hate going on a Monday"
The male ability to leave me utterly speechless starts a lot younger than I thought.
This is the week in which I discover there is something potentially up with one of my beautiful boys. Not life threatening, but most certainly life changing and the implications of which do not bear thinking about. So I have tried not to. I have promised him that no matter what life throws at him, there is always a way of dealing with it, just perhaps in a different way than he assumes it will be.
Then I face the recognition that I am a little emotionally screwed. This has been a little tricky but since a lifelong pattern has not worked, the only thing to do is to change it. This in itself is no easy task but hey, I like a challenge.
It has been a watershed week in so many ways,. Inbetween all the revelation, discovery and heartache I have had to work, sort the house out and continue with both work and the business plan (and boy did that slide this week).
Having realised just how my own patterns of behaviour are based in not truly believing in love, I thought I had better check with one of the many sons that he felt loved.
"Do you feel loved"? Say I
"Of course" say's he
"I want you to know that you should never change your self to be loved by others, that you are beautiful person just the way you are" say I
"You are not really like other Mothers, are you?" say's he
(No shit, Sherlock) thinks I
"Are you happy"? I continue
"Not really" he say's "It's school"
My heart pounds, I feel alarm that if he admits to being unhappy then it must be bad, and gratitude that he feels able to raise an issue with me.
"What's up"
He looks at the floor, then looks up at me with his beautiful blue eyes
"It starts too early, finishes too late and I really hate going on a Monday"
The male ability to leave me utterly speechless starts a lot younger than I thought.
Friday 15 April 2011
Multi million pound ego
Gosh a night of illumination and much thought.
I finally get it all. 'Tis all self hate and egocentric behaviour. My value on myself is based on ego, which is entirely false. My inability to voice my needs is about my hatred towards myself, defined by my ego
But since my ego is false, I have defined my life by believing something that was never there in the first place. Apparently such ego is set in place by the age of seven. This is alarming since all of my children are older than this.
Blinding. So, having based 42 years of my life on something that was never there it is time to move on.
Tonight I tried to build a social network site. I didn't do it. I haven't failed, I just didn't do it. A seed of an idea that I just need to plant
In truth, I find this whole technology thing a bit tricky. Still tomorrow is another day.
I am also in the throws of starting a business. Last week I chatted with the 'co-founder' of our not yet started business.
"What is your view for an exit strategy" I ask. We both had the same view
"Take a stab at what you aim to sell at in 7 years" say I
She said £20 million at the same time I said 22.
Life is full of signs, possibility and strangeness.
I think we only see what we need to see when we are ready to ee it. This in itself is odd, since one of my favourite expressions as a child was "I see said the blind man as he walked into the post"
Life is what it is
I finally get it all. 'Tis all self hate and egocentric behaviour. My value on myself is based on ego, which is entirely false. My inability to voice my needs is about my hatred towards myself, defined by my ego
But since my ego is false, I have defined my life by believing something that was never there in the first place. Apparently such ego is set in place by the age of seven. This is alarming since all of my children are older than this.
Blinding. So, having based 42 years of my life on something that was never there it is time to move on.
Tonight I tried to build a social network site. I didn't do it. I haven't failed, I just didn't do it. A seed of an idea that I just need to plant
In truth, I find this whole technology thing a bit tricky. Still tomorrow is another day.
I am also in the throws of starting a business. Last week I chatted with the 'co-founder' of our not yet started business.
"What is your view for an exit strategy" I ask. We both had the same view
"Take a stab at what you aim to sell at in 7 years" say I
She said £20 million at the same time I said 22.
Life is full of signs, possibility and strangeness.
I think we only see what we need to see when we are ready to ee it. This in itself is odd, since one of my favourite expressions as a child was "I see said the blind man as he walked into the post"
Life is what it is
I am Medusa
I have many abilities. I can rebuild an engine, milk a goat and spray a car. Most of these have had limited use over the years but the one skill I have that continues in its development is my ability to have grown men too scared to look me in the eye.
I have considered the obvious. Spot on the chin, mono brow, halitosis - but none seem to quite fit the bill. This week the thunderbolt hit.
I keep quiet. I think that being non demanding, being cool with behaviour that frankly, is not cool means that I am cool. I think that if I prove I have no needs, no expectations and no demands then I must be a really nice person. So nice in fact, there have been times that I thought I have emotional bulemia.
Yet I do not think their behaviour is okay, I think it sucks. Yet so convinced that if I say anything the inevitable will happen, the relationship will end that I keep silent. All the little games, the 24 hours to respond to a text yet they call you within 2 if you don't respond to theirs. The shit behaviour they pre-empt by saying "Do you think I am a lazy lover?" The answer to that one is that if you have to ask, you already know the answer. And so it goes on.
So I accept the behaviour and they feel great. I offer a very large pass that say's take the piss.
Yet I clock it all. And when the time comes I shoot from the hip in the kind of character assassination that will hurt. It hurts because it is all too often deadly accurate and I gave no warning. Then they feel shit.
The ex husband would never argue with me. He controlled any disharmony with sulking. If I tried to say that I wasn't happy about something he simply refused to speak for days on end. Then I would know that it simply wasn't worth it. I suspect this is where I learned to keep my mouth shut and clock it all. I once said "But I didn't say anything that wasn't true'
"Exactly" he said "That's why it hurt"
So I create my own death. The men I care about (I am not including ex marital relationships) are the ones that I destroy relationships with through my own behaviour. I offer no honesty, I allow myself to be fucked around and then become indignant at the injustice of it all. When I then demand some honesty from them, I fire a bullet. Then they cannot look me in the face.
Tis ironic that I demand honesty and yet the only honesty I ever give is my views on them.
Perhaps I do men an injustice. Perhaps if I had boundaries, then I would only meet the kind of men that respect them.
Seems that I am not that bright after all.
I have considered the obvious. Spot on the chin, mono brow, halitosis - but none seem to quite fit the bill. This week the thunderbolt hit.
I keep quiet. I think that being non demanding, being cool with behaviour that frankly, is not cool means that I am cool. I think that if I prove I have no needs, no expectations and no demands then I must be a really nice person. So nice in fact, there have been times that I thought I have emotional bulemia.
Yet I do not think their behaviour is okay, I think it sucks. Yet so convinced that if I say anything the inevitable will happen, the relationship will end that I keep silent. All the little games, the 24 hours to respond to a text yet they call you within 2 if you don't respond to theirs. The shit behaviour they pre-empt by saying "Do you think I am a lazy lover?" The answer to that one is that if you have to ask, you already know the answer. And so it goes on.
So I accept the behaviour and they feel great. I offer a very large pass that say's take the piss.
Yet I clock it all. And when the time comes I shoot from the hip in the kind of character assassination that will hurt. It hurts because it is all too often deadly accurate and I gave no warning. Then they feel shit.
The ex husband would never argue with me. He controlled any disharmony with sulking. If I tried to say that I wasn't happy about something he simply refused to speak for days on end. Then I would know that it simply wasn't worth it. I suspect this is where I learned to keep my mouth shut and clock it all. I once said "But I didn't say anything that wasn't true'
"Exactly" he said "That's why it hurt"
So I create my own death. The men I care about (I am not including ex marital relationships) are the ones that I destroy relationships with through my own behaviour. I offer no honesty, I allow myself to be fucked around and then become indignant at the injustice of it all. When I then demand some honesty from them, I fire a bullet. Then they cannot look me in the face.
Tis ironic that I demand honesty and yet the only honesty I ever give is my views on them.
Perhaps I do men an injustice. Perhaps if I had boundaries, then I would only meet the kind of men that respect them.
Seems that I am not that bright after all.
Monday 21 March 2011
The head nodders guide to sex
Sometimes I hear people say that sex is overarated, sometimes I nod my head in agreement. Head nodding is normally kindness, since to disagree would be to make them face the fact that they are probably the victim of poor sex syndrome. That would be cruel, so I nod.
They know the truth and that is why they kid themselves that sex is overrated. The more I nod, the more I make sympathetic noises the more they feel that sex that lasts less than three minutes or is so dull that you actually consider sleeping is entirely normal.
I used to say that sex was overrated. Mainly because it was. I also said it because the periods between threatened survival of the human race.
Good sex is never overrated.
Not that I have been thinking of sex.
Yours,
in the desert.
They know the truth and that is why they kid themselves that sex is overrated. The more I nod, the more I make sympathetic noises the more they feel that sex that lasts less than three minutes or is so dull that you actually consider sleeping is entirely normal.
I used to say that sex was overrated. Mainly because it was. I also said it because the periods between threatened survival of the human race.
Good sex is never overrated.
Not that I have been thinking of sex.
Yours,
in the desert.
Sunday 20 March 2011
Everyday is a yesterday
The one great thing about life is that each and every day has the potential to be better than the last. It may not be, it may be. It's a chance, something may happen that makes it a worse day, or an event could occur that makes it the best day of your life. Those things are out of our control. Then there is state of mind - if you tell yourself that each day presents a new opportunity, then you are opening yourself to good things happen.
Today was a better day then yesterday. Tomorrow has the potential of being better.
Perhaps this is the purpose of sleep. Like a short coma that you wake up from and start your life again.
Sleep well X
Today was a better day then yesterday. Tomorrow has the potential of being better.
Perhaps this is the purpose of sleep. Like a short coma that you wake up from and start your life again.
Sleep well X
And whilst I fight sleep
I thought I would post an out of focus picture of me in curlers. that's just the sort of classy madame that I am. My dear friend R and I have been having converstion on the cost of photographers. Since the seed of a business plan will involve them and there is the issue over money - none of it, I was thinking out of focus stling could be the way to go.
A creative trend is afoot.
Saturday 19 March 2011
Trapping your heart in the door
It has been a really positive week. I decided to start a business. I organised an office, I purchase a domain name, I finally oil my kitchen worktop, I clean my car and I actually eat food. Tonight, I even allow myslef the time to lie in bed and watch a film.
And then the tears start, from nowhere. Three hours later and they are still rolling down my face - as if from a constant and unstoppable source. I have no idea why they started and no idea of how to stop them. I am not sobbing, simply awash with tears. My face stings, my jaw aches and I feel like my chest has lead weight upon it.
Perhaps this is the irony on being strong. I have always been strong - nothing, absolutely nothing will break me and no matter what is thrown my way, I shall continue to get up every day and continue my belief that it will all be okay. I became this strong not by choice but over a serious of events. Perhaps this isn't strength at all, perhaps it is nothing more than barriers.
Perhaps staying in a marriage awash with pretence and unhappiness was never strength, it was cowardice.
I have uttered to many a teenager that should I tell them anything in life worthy of them paying heed to, it would be that love does not mean that you are with the right person. Love does not mean you should make a life with them.
What if your real strength is when you finally realise that something is not right and you shut the door on. What if shutting the door on something despite how deeply you feel, is the right thing to do. What if the staying positive was a combination of denial and protection, set to distract you from the fact that your heart had become deeply and utterly exposed. What if you have finally reached a stage where you are in touch with your emotions enough that you can cry without obvious cause, that despite knowing that shutting that door was the right thing to do, that you miss them. What if strength is shutting the door on something that you deep down you know you don't want to shut the door on.
It hurts, it really, really hurts.
And yet I know that the sadness I feel is a sign that I have become stronger. All will be well in the morning.
I am just not sure which one
And then the tears start, from nowhere. Three hours later and they are still rolling down my face - as if from a constant and unstoppable source. I have no idea why they started and no idea of how to stop them. I am not sobbing, simply awash with tears. My face stings, my jaw aches and I feel like my chest has lead weight upon it.
Perhaps this is the irony on being strong. I have always been strong - nothing, absolutely nothing will break me and no matter what is thrown my way, I shall continue to get up every day and continue my belief that it will all be okay. I became this strong not by choice but over a serious of events. Perhaps this isn't strength at all, perhaps it is nothing more than barriers.
Perhaps staying in a marriage awash with pretence and unhappiness was never strength, it was cowardice.
I have uttered to many a teenager that should I tell them anything in life worthy of them paying heed to, it would be that love does not mean that you are with the right person. Love does not mean you should make a life with them.
What if your real strength is when you finally realise that something is not right and you shut the door on. What if shutting the door on something despite how deeply you feel, is the right thing to do. What if the staying positive was a combination of denial and protection, set to distract you from the fact that your heart had become deeply and utterly exposed. What if you have finally reached a stage where you are in touch with your emotions enough that you can cry without obvious cause, that despite knowing that shutting that door was the right thing to do, that you miss them. What if strength is shutting the door on something that you deep down you know you don't want to shut the door on.
It hurts, it really, really hurts.
And yet I know that the sadness I feel is a sign that I have become stronger. All will be well in the morning.
I am just not sure which one
Monday 14 March 2011
Knee Deep in it
Uncharacteristically fed up.
It would appear that my assumption of stuffed knee is entirely correct. I have stuffed the other knee and it appears there is only one way out of this tricky situation.
Another operation.
The GP tried to put it gently, as if they would merely brush my leg with the smallest of invasion.
"They will have a little look, a little tidy up and maybe a repair"
"I had an arthroscopy 18 months ago" say I
"Oh no" says she "You know exactly what you will be facing then"
No kidding.
I can barely remember the last one. Trying to recover from an op at the same time as discovering your husband had a hankering for polyester (though looking back, he always did) was hardly conducive to recovery and resulted in being on crutches for 5 weeks.
I have googled how to drive your children to school when you can't and nothing of any use came up. I googled how much the operation was privately but decided that 2k on a credit card was a bad idea since I could not pay it back. How much easier, no hideous hospital, no cancellations. I could book it next week and rid myself of continued pain with the inevitable months waiting. Over and done with whilst I am still fed up.
Perfect.
All donations of £2k made payable to me. Thank you in anticipation.
Sometimes life is a little unfair. I am trying not to dwell on it and remain positive. This is challenging, since I am now allergic to the pain relief.
Bugger
It would appear that my assumption of stuffed knee is entirely correct. I have stuffed the other knee and it appears there is only one way out of this tricky situation.
Another operation.
The GP tried to put it gently, as if they would merely brush my leg with the smallest of invasion.
"They will have a little look, a little tidy up and maybe a repair"
"I had an arthroscopy 18 months ago" say I
"Oh no" says she "You know exactly what you will be facing then"
No kidding.
I can barely remember the last one. Trying to recover from an op at the same time as discovering your husband had a hankering for polyester (though looking back, he always did) was hardly conducive to recovery and resulted in being on crutches for 5 weeks.
I have googled how to drive your children to school when you can't and nothing of any use came up. I googled how much the operation was privately but decided that 2k on a credit card was a bad idea since I could not pay it back. How much easier, no hideous hospital, no cancellations. I could book it next week and rid myself of continued pain with the inevitable months waiting. Over and done with whilst I am still fed up.
Perfect.
All donations of £2k made payable to me. Thank you in anticipation.
Sometimes life is a little unfair. I am trying not to dwell on it and remain positive. This is challenging, since I am now allergic to the pain relief.
Bugger
Sunday 13 March 2011
A different perspective
Whilst I know that there are more important things in life than high heels, I know that my passion for them is entirely superficial and that in the great scheme of life, they are irrelevant - no matter how irrelevent - I love them.
High heels to me are like Prozac to others. No matter how taxing life is, it seems utterly bearable in 5 inch heels. Life on the flat is frankly, dull.
Weekend four of flats and I find myself cleaning the car. It was like being married. So utterly mind blowingly, arse achingly dull - that if I even considered whether I should embrace impending doom and go to the garden centre. I choose Life and jet washed the wheel arches instead.
Then it struck me how easy it is to give up life in a marriage. Before you know it, you are living a life of humdrum, jut because slipping into parody mode is all to simple one in the years following the trip up the aisle.
If I have to cosign myself to anymore of my life slipping into a role that I feel that I am supposed to slip into, then take me forest way and dart me.
I miss my heels. I simply like the new perspective they have given me.
I felt a little guilty today. Perhaps I had proven the thoughts of others by shutting a door firmly shut. I have been fighting the feeling of mild guilt all day.
I think healthy is when you don't have to to leave the door ajar but someone chooses to break it down. Who knows but I suspect that I am a perplexing individual.
Short, but perplexing
High heels to me are like Prozac to others. No matter how taxing life is, it seems utterly bearable in 5 inch heels. Life on the flat is frankly, dull.
Weekend four of flats and I find myself cleaning the car. It was like being married. So utterly mind blowingly, arse achingly dull - that if I even considered whether I should embrace impending doom and go to the garden centre. I choose Life and jet washed the wheel arches instead.
Then it struck me how easy it is to give up life in a marriage. Before you know it, you are living a life of humdrum, jut because slipping into parody mode is all to simple one in the years following the trip up the aisle.
If I have to cosign myself to anymore of my life slipping into a role that I feel that I am supposed to slip into, then take me forest way and dart me.
I miss my heels. I simply like the new perspective they have given me.
I felt a little guilty today. Perhaps I had proven the thoughts of others by shutting a door firmly shut. I have been fighting the feeling of mild guilt all day.
I think healthy is when you don't have to to leave the door ajar but someone chooses to break it down. Who knows but I suspect that I am a perplexing individual.
Short, but perplexing
Saturday 12 March 2011
Waynes World
Somebody wrote an amazing comment today. I won't publish it because it was personal to them and so long in it's wisdom that it was almost a blog in itself.
In essence, I guess it was saying that there are some things that you can change, some things you can't and some things you can worry about and shouldn't.
I am no longer dating anyone. I have learnt that you can only ever really date in the present, you cannot predict the future and you living entirely in the past is a particularly bad idea. What you cannot do is persuade anyone else to be in the present with you. People's pasts can dictate their present, sucking them into a whirlpool of self fulfilling behaviour.
I feel saddened but I am not broken. I finally see that these are not my issues, they are not a reflection of me, Perhaps in some peculiar way I should be flattered. A relationship that reached the stage where the barriers were sufficiently lowered to let in pain before fear took over. Perhaps I shall ponder.
The universal truth is acceptance. To accept yourself dispenses with so much angst. You meet someone, you like them, do they like you? You text someone, they text you, do you text back, will you appear to keen - so it goes on. 'Tis all about being accepted and yet the one thing we rarely do is have emotional honesty. We rarely admit our deepest needs.
This is far more so for men. Hidden behind a mask of masculine armour, it is far harder for men to admit they crave emotional intimacy. Far easier to man it up, to face the world as strong. Yet I think men consider as much as women, they worry as much about rejection, if not more than women. They worry about getting their needs met at he same time as meeting the needs of a woman in a way that completely fits in with their 'man code' Men do all the same things as women, just in a different way.Men do not sit there and analyse with their friends the way in which women do, it stays in their head. Emotionally damaged, immature, whatever word you use, men do not unpick their behaviour, they go on gut instinct. If causes anxiety, get rid the problem.
I did a good job this time of recognising what I do and do not need. Whether I shall ever come across it I have no idea. The future is the one thing I will never be able to predict. Yet I see a pattern. I meet people, I get to know them, I love them - this can be friends, lovers, marriage it makes little difference. Then, they cannot face me, simply cannot look me in the eye.
It causes me an immense sadness and confusion. I no longer tie it in with my ego and damage myself, since I know that is not from any action I have chosen. It is simply something in me, that makes some people see something in themselves that they are not strong enough to accept.
It is not until you accept that you can ever be truly loved. Intimacy is about revealing the true you, bit by bit, piece by piece.
Someone in town told me the other day that you never really understand yourself until you understand how you are perceived by others. I am well aware of how people assume my confidence. And to a degree I am. I am now okay with myself and accept the fears that I have, I accept that I choose men that cannot allow to much emotional connection because I am simply terrified of the concept of safe, intimate emotionally connected love because I do not really believe it exists.
Only this time I saw a glimmer of it, I felt female and I liked it.
But sometimes, I feel saddened that someone elses deep emotional fear prevents them attaining honest, deep meaningful and non dependent love, because their fear means another door shuts in my heart.
I will never regret the men I fall in love with. I have learnt something about people and about myself from every single person in my life. Those people become part of you.
Life is very short, it can change in an instant.
The only moment you can live in, is the one you are living in now.
In essence, I guess it was saying that there are some things that you can change, some things you can't and some things you can worry about and shouldn't.
I am no longer dating anyone. I have learnt that you can only ever really date in the present, you cannot predict the future and you living entirely in the past is a particularly bad idea. What you cannot do is persuade anyone else to be in the present with you. People's pasts can dictate their present, sucking them into a whirlpool of self fulfilling behaviour.
I feel saddened but I am not broken. I finally see that these are not my issues, they are not a reflection of me, Perhaps in some peculiar way I should be flattered. A relationship that reached the stage where the barriers were sufficiently lowered to let in pain before fear took over. Perhaps I shall ponder.
The universal truth is acceptance. To accept yourself dispenses with so much angst. You meet someone, you like them, do they like you? You text someone, they text you, do you text back, will you appear to keen - so it goes on. 'Tis all about being accepted and yet the one thing we rarely do is have emotional honesty. We rarely admit our deepest needs.
This is far more so for men. Hidden behind a mask of masculine armour, it is far harder for men to admit they crave emotional intimacy. Far easier to man it up, to face the world as strong. Yet I think men consider as much as women, they worry as much about rejection, if not more than women. They worry about getting their needs met at he same time as meeting the needs of a woman in a way that completely fits in with their 'man code' Men do all the same things as women, just in a different way.Men do not sit there and analyse with their friends the way in which women do, it stays in their head. Emotionally damaged, immature, whatever word you use, men do not unpick their behaviour, they go on gut instinct. If causes anxiety, get rid the problem.
I did a good job this time of recognising what I do and do not need. Whether I shall ever come across it I have no idea. The future is the one thing I will never be able to predict. Yet I see a pattern. I meet people, I get to know them, I love them - this can be friends, lovers, marriage it makes little difference. Then, they cannot face me, simply cannot look me in the eye.
It causes me an immense sadness and confusion. I no longer tie it in with my ego and damage myself, since I know that is not from any action I have chosen. It is simply something in me, that makes some people see something in themselves that they are not strong enough to accept.
It is not until you accept that you can ever be truly loved. Intimacy is about revealing the true you, bit by bit, piece by piece.
Someone in town told me the other day that you never really understand yourself until you understand how you are perceived by others. I am well aware of how people assume my confidence. And to a degree I am. I am now okay with myself and accept the fears that I have, I accept that I choose men that cannot allow to much emotional connection because I am simply terrified of the concept of safe, intimate emotionally connected love because I do not really believe it exists.
Only this time I saw a glimmer of it, I felt female and I liked it.
But sometimes, I feel saddened that someone elses deep emotional fear prevents them attaining honest, deep meaningful and non dependent love, because their fear means another door shuts in my heart.
I will never regret the men I fall in love with. I have learnt something about people and about myself from every single person in my life. Those people become part of you.
Life is very short, it can change in an instant.
The only moment you can live in, is the one you are living in now.
Monday 7 March 2011
Synchronised breathing
I am disovering things.
Sorting your own crap only works if others sort theirs out too. This takes the kind of synchronicity rarely seen in modern life and one which I keep missing.
Breathing very, very deeply.
Sometimes things turn out the way that you expected but not the way you hoped. It hurts, but one needs to take the view that in when you take a stand against expectation and go with opportunity - that no matter how painful, you will learn so much on the way.
Still, the ability to wear high heels would help a lot right now.
Sorting your own crap only works if others sort theirs out too. This takes the kind of synchronicity rarely seen in modern life and one which I keep missing.
Breathing very, very deeply.
Sometimes things turn out the way that you expected but not the way you hoped. It hurts, but one needs to take the view that in when you take a stand against expectation and go with opportunity - that no matter how painful, you will learn so much on the way.
Still, the ability to wear high heels would help a lot right now.
Saturday 26 February 2011
I am not a man, I am a coffee table
I am procrastinating. I have decided to write something else and am midst outline. I am also a procrastinator and so I am writing on here.
I am in severe pain.
One of the most enlightening and pleasing things I have learnt in the last few months is that I am female. I spent some time with someone who is clearly masculine and it finally dawned on me that I am not equal to a man, I am different. Allowing for that difference and embracing it is is really quite a charming place to be. Masculinity it turns out is really very....attractive. I have loved it. It makes no less of me and in fact makes me more complete.
Except there is still the issue of my androgynous quality. Sometimes, just sometimes - in the midst of my new found female side, my inner male appears - as if from nowhere. In a moment of sheer stupidity and in a bout of tom foolery, I thought I would challenge a male with brute force. I lost. Not only did I resort to begging for mercy, I tore my meniscus.
Now I am facing potentially another knee operation and on top of that, have been banned from wearing high heels. This is a profoundly troubling ban. I have never purchased flat shoes in my life. I will have to spend the next few weeks being mistaken for a coffee table.
Repeat after myself: I am not a man, I am not a man, I am not a man.
I am in severe pain.
One of the most enlightening and pleasing things I have learnt in the last few months is that I am female. I spent some time with someone who is clearly masculine and it finally dawned on me that I am not equal to a man, I am different. Allowing for that difference and embracing it is is really quite a charming place to be. Masculinity it turns out is really very....attractive. I have loved it. It makes no less of me and in fact makes me more complete.
Except there is still the issue of my androgynous quality. Sometimes, just sometimes - in the midst of my new found female side, my inner male appears - as if from nowhere. In a moment of sheer stupidity and in a bout of tom foolery, I thought I would challenge a male with brute force. I lost. Not only did I resort to begging for mercy, I tore my meniscus.
Now I am facing potentially another knee operation and on top of that, have been banned from wearing high heels. This is a profoundly troubling ban. I have never purchased flat shoes in my life. I will have to spend the next few weeks being mistaken for a coffee table.
Repeat after myself: I am not a man, I am not a man, I am not a man.
Respect is a matter of ego
Its been an interesting period. I have indeed find myself a magnate to men with emotional baggage. Or perhaps they are a magnet to me. Still, for everything that cause a thought process there is a lesson to be learnt.
I have learnt this. Peope have very specific ideas on what is the 'proper' way to behave and on the whole I struggle to agree that people should adhere to them. In dating - if a man does not respond immediately to texts or does not call for three days, he is no good and not treating me with respect.
Bollocks. I am 42, I have no idea what I want from my life and certainly have no idea about what I want from a relationship. I love the benefits of that unknown, the cooked breakfast, the witty conversations, my utter confusion over the concept of knowing the future, fantastic sex and beautiful bodies - but I am not the same persoon I was two years ago and if I need to be validated by someone calling me to do so - then I have a problem.
I figure this - I am just fine as I am. I no doubt have much to learn and am certain of a perpetual evolution until the day I sit in a carehome and shriek "I get it" through my toothless mouth. Until then, commitment phobic men, emotionally confused - whatever it is - it is their issue and not one I will ever need to take responsibility for, nor ones that I shall ever again see as a reflection of my worth. Compassion is so much more beautiful than responsibility. If there is one thing I can be certain of, it is that I will never again be in a co-dependant relationship.
Last week, I found myself in a situation in which I was gaining much pleasure. I gained it because it was simply pleasureable and NOT because I needed to give someone pleasure. I just gained it. As a result of that, the other person gained a lot of pleasure and that in turn, increased mine.
I think it may have been the only moment in which I have ever experienced true pleasure with no need, worry, validation required on either side. No ego involved.
The ego has a lot to answer for. When you need people to validate your existance, your ego has taken over.
I have learnt this. Peope have very specific ideas on what is the 'proper' way to behave and on the whole I struggle to agree that people should adhere to them. In dating - if a man does not respond immediately to texts or does not call for three days, he is no good and not treating me with respect.
Bollocks. I am 42, I have no idea what I want from my life and certainly have no idea about what I want from a relationship. I love the benefits of that unknown, the cooked breakfast, the witty conversations, my utter confusion over the concept of knowing the future, fantastic sex and beautiful bodies - but I am not the same persoon I was two years ago and if I need to be validated by someone calling me to do so - then I have a problem.
I figure this - I am just fine as I am. I no doubt have much to learn and am certain of a perpetual evolution until the day I sit in a carehome and shriek "I get it" through my toothless mouth. Until then, commitment phobic men, emotionally confused - whatever it is - it is their issue and not one I will ever need to take responsibility for, nor ones that I shall ever again see as a reflection of my worth. Compassion is so much more beautiful than responsibility. If there is one thing I can be certain of, it is that I will never again be in a co-dependant relationship.
Last week, I found myself in a situation in which I was gaining much pleasure. I gained it because it was simply pleasureable and NOT because I needed to give someone pleasure. I just gained it. As a result of that, the other person gained a lot of pleasure and that in turn, increased mine.
I think it may have been the only moment in which I have ever experienced true pleasure with no need, worry, validation required on either side. No ego involved.
The ego has a lot to answer for. When you need people to validate your existance, your ego has taken over.
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