No sleep…

Last night I got no sleep at all. I may have dozed at around midnight.

I am very grateful that my friend Judy helped me sellotape a package and took it to the post office for me. I had ordered a replacement laptop, which turned out to be cheap rubbish, and half of the charger was missing. A substitute was sent, but that didn’t fit. So I sent it back. I have my eye on a better one. I am so grateful to my daughter for lending me this. I just discovered it detects that I’m typing in German and automatically uses the letters that English doesn’t have. Neat. Maybe if my friend in Dubai tells me more secrets, I’ll stick with this.

I have been chewing the fat with a close friend in Virginia about how to tell someone some news. I’ve know him since I was twenty. And his wife. It’s hard to chew the fat on WhatsApp. With a five hour time difference. I’ve kind of spilled out while he was sleeping. I know he’ll not be mad at me. The worst is that he’ll be firm.

And I’ve accidentally hurt someone I employ but esteem highly. I can never get over it. The unintended consequence is too much too bear. I can’t undo it.

So I’ve not had the best weekend at all. I feel wretched physically and in my soul.

To love mercy,
To do justice,
and walk humbly before my God

Someone tried to hurt me…

So, following on from yesterday’s post, I’ve had a fairly good day.

I bumped into a former neighbour, we were so pleased to see each other. He used to come to the door in the evening to ask me to put milk in his cup of tea. I would give him a jug of milk so he could have breakfast. We played catch across the garden in between each of ours, he tuned in my TV and took my daughter to the beach. He will visit soon.

So, an emoji was left by Michael Ebsworth on one of my poems. I could have left it there for him to see his name. I was shocked. He’s so private, but now I have his apple ID and his IP address. It hurt. I do and don’t want to hear from him. I do not want to be toyed with.

I’m so glad that when I came home I felt good.

Fragment of Dream…

A shard of memory from dreams
forgotten in the whole
no context for the image left with me
just one fragment of a dream

I see it still, in hazy mind picture
you were embracing me,
your head beside mine, my hand your hair
you wept in this haze of dream

So sorry were you for hurting me
no tongue to voice apology
tears wetting my face, I held your head
hoping it was real, not a dream

When you grow weary of deceiving
pulling the wool over her eyes
there is a room for you here with me
we can take it from there, no dream

Published by The Poetry Bar

Not so good Saturday…

Yesterday evening, my daughter said something unkind to me. My whole being seemed to shrink and my purpose in life wobbled for a while.

The people we love can hurt us in places other people cannot reach. The love that binds us feels the knife of words deeply, forgives easily, but the wound can sink deep and wobble us.

This is normal. My identity as a mother still runs deep, although it’s no longer my primary function.We take the blows of unfiltered children more easily. My daughter was always so sweet to me when she was small. The only unfiltered comment that amused me, concerned me, made me laugh, and feel substandard all at once were her yearly questions about whether she would get as many freckles as I.

In her teens, I managed to not show how her angry outbursts affected me. I still don’t let on how much she can hurt me. It serves no useful purpose.

I am struggling with the campaign, as we still have only 2 000 signatures on the latest petition to save our hospital. It increases daily, but more and more slowly. So an unkind remark has more effect.

I am ok now. Time brings perspective.

I had anchovies in garlic for lunch yesterday.High in fat and protein. I enjoyed it.

The first of Advent…thinking about resolutions

The first of Advent has significance for me, it marks a time of contemplation. The view from my window right now is amazing. The sunlight is glowing beneath a dark cloud, and below the glow is the castle on the island and the peninsular which flashes lights at night, and the chain ferry is visible. Then the greenish hue of the harbour itself…

So I thought I would talk about New Year resolutions, before you start to think about making any. The problem with a resolution on it’s own, is that you set yourself up to fail.

If you are someone who believes in making them, and I am not, think back to how many succeeded. Probably not many. This is because they need to anchored in a behaviour.

If you read my post on losing weight, you will know it is easiest when it is achieved through a change of behaviour. For me, then, a resolution will only succeed in the same way. You may decide to give up smoking, or to write and send more birthday cards. Simply deciding is usually not enough.

If you want to write more birthday cards, it’s a good idea to buy a calendar or diary and write in the birthdays. There are even birthday diary stationary sets that help you.

Giving up smoking, on the other hand, can be the hardest thing to do. It’s much easier to give up with someone else. Or to start walking briskly and notice how quickly your lungs clear and you can walk further without getting out of breath. The first four days are the hardest, and after twelve weeks your lungs will be as if you had never smoked.

If you are giving up smoking, you will need to find something to do with your hands. A stress ball, or a piece of wood to whittle etc. It is often the physical ritual around smoking that is hardest to give up.

More commonly, we make decisions in a time of crisis. When my parents and then my sister died, I found great comfort in sympathy cards. Now I always keep a card in the house. These are the sorts of things that make us better people, kinder, more authentic.

From our wounds we can emerge softer and sweeter. It means we remain vulnerable to be hurt, but that is far better than being bitter and angry.

Screaming…

• 

I’ve been screaming with pain, both inner and physical. I hurt so much by Mike’s departure. He left because he thought I wanted a carer. The very last thing on my mind. I wanted a partnership of equals, but naively I trusted him to try to discuss how much help I should keep having. I’m paying an awful amount of money to have half a hour of help each day. I asked him what he thought of me employing someone privately, less frequently but for a longer period of time. All he said was ‘don’t cancel it’. I found this frustrating, but knew he was tired. I left him to sleep and popped in on my friend. He left.

When he told me what he was thinking, I was incredulous. I could not grasp it. Beyond belief. My illness and appearance stop me from believing anyone would want me. But Michael Ebsworth has always told me he loves me and finds my body very attractive. Oh, the thngs he does to me! He’s such a passionate lover. Tender yet demanding.

He knows me. He knows my home can be untidy. Nothing was a surprise to him. And I spent ages sending texts making suggestions on what possblities there were to make this house our home, not just mine. He told me I don’t open windows. Almost all my windows are open all the time. I won’t mention his untidiness and bad habits here.

I went to see the ‘asthma’ nurse in the morning. She is so lovely that I dissolved into tears. I tried to see a play last night which had bought a ticket for about a month ago. I had to leave the theatre to vomit in the ladies and couldn’t face going back in. All the while Mike was firing texts at me.

I’ve been screaming out loud too because the wind changed direction a couple of days ago and I can hear the windchimes all the length of the garden. My nerves are yelling at me to make the chimes stop. My muscles hurt so much on my left side. My neighbours have been told that they cause me nerve pain and they do not change them nor move them.

Aftermath…

So less than twenty four hours after Michael Ebsworth arrived to live with me, he left while I went to a neighbour because he was sleeping.

Last night he told me could never be without me. I met him when he lived next door. I thought him boring. One night he got to my bedroom because he wanted to talk to me.

I accepted an apology on the grounds that he help me put things together that I needed around my home. This led to him seducing me. His ‘partner’, unaware of all this, began to be malicious to me because she wrongly assumed I had sent messages on Instagram. I never saw these messages.

Mike then pursued a relationship with me, which was very happy until we were found out. He then lied to me,

Recently I started getting emails from his account but I thought it was the woman, toying with me.

Mike arrived last night. He kept saying it was my home, but I had already assured him I was happy to change anything.

I have lived with depression on and off for many years. Right now I feel I’m looking into my left shoe with my right foot. I’m so in love with this man.

I am so low. So hurt. So betrayed. I can’t see the way ahead. I wish I had never withdrawn my complaint to the police about the sexual assaults. I would never have had the opportunity to have feelings for him.