Are all fat people messed up? Is it true what they say? Long boring post alert spilling 30 years of life in as short a number of words as possible, abuse, breakdowns, love, sex, it’s all here, psychologists, amateur psychologists and dream analysts please speed read and give me a verdict for tonight this blog is my therapy couch.
OK so anyone who has followed my story thus far knows I recently, out of the blue, got into a romantic situation which I really didn’t see coming or consciously court.
I kind of like being single, I’ve always liked being single. I don’t see myself as a relationship type of person. That goes when I’m fat, thin and anywhere in between, younger or older it’s just not something I do well.
I was a little princess once who loved her daddy and thought all men were l like him and would protect me, make me laugh, love me and care for me and let me do the same for them. Then the big bad wolf came along and I was swept off my feet and wouldn’t listen to anyone, not even my daddy who up to that point had been the only person I hung on the every word of and trusted implicitly. Hormones are a bitch and I must have shattered the poor guys heart.
Not to be too graphic, the wolf came in sheep’s clothing, dad saw straight through it, it took others longer and me even longer. I took the hand of the wolf and skipped merrily off into our home, into independence, into adulthood and into sheer hell. The wolf revealed himself a couple of weeks in, once he was sure my mind was in his clutches as well as my physical self. The two things he knew about me without a shadow of a doubt was that I would never admit to anyone that I had made a mistake with this and that I would do all I could to make it the fairy tale I’d imagined it was going to be.
I had two years of sheer hell at his hands, beyond abuse and eventually from somewhere found the strength to escape, wounded emotionally and physically, scarred, emaciated and broken… almost. I believed I was the ugliest person alive, I saw a witch when I looked in a mirror (unless you’ve experienced this power of the mind you’d not believe it possible but sometimes I still see her hence why it was so brave and a real turning point for me to panel my whole hall stair and landing this summer with mirrors), I felt like damaged goods, I’d wanted to fall in love, marry a wonderful man and have children, bake cakes and love everyone and make everyone happy forever. That wasn’t happening for me now. On top of everything I couldn’t even have children (so the doctors said) so what was the point of even thinking of marriage and love, who would want me now?
Well actually after some outward healing had occurred, lots of people wanted me, I thought they wanted to take advantage of me and some I allowed to do just that and some I prevented, I loved my power, I loved to use it and if any man came close to me I didn’t believe a word they said and instantly ran in the opposite direction. I left a trail of heartbreak, disillusionment and damage in my wake. I never shook off the feeling of ugliness or unattractiveness, when I look back now at photos of me I wonder why I didn’t see that person then, where the hell was she?
I met men who loved me, I’ve made grown men weep but at the time all I saw were the tears of the wolf after he’d given me yet another beating, in the end he’d only cry when he thought he’d finally killed me out of concern for himself but he used to do it so I’d feel sorry for him and apologise for making him hit me in the early days… which of course I did, bad me! Sometimes I’d be so bad that I’d put his meat too close to the potatoes on his plate, or I’d forget to close the kitchen door, or one time I made his glass of orange juice too wet, another time I sat down too fast in a chair and another I made too much noise turning the pages of a magazine. I was beyond bad, I was positively evil. So when they cried it wasn’t hurt, they were trying to control me and I’d run, flighty me, I’d be gone. I didn’t take pleasure in their pain to me it was all a load of bull shit.
My husband to be was quiet, unassuming, stable, gentle, kind, intelligent and wanted nothing from me other than my company. I confided in him. I shared some of my memories with him. He asked me to marry him. He knew I was damaged and yet he wanted to marry me. I trusted him. I had an epiphany which I might talk about one day, and I agreed to do that. It was time for marriage I felt totally sure of that. We married. He remained quiet, unassuming, stable, gentle, kind, intelligent and wanted nothing from me other than my company and it was stiflingly boring. No excitement, no love, no passion, no spontaneity, no fun, stable, monotonous flat lining drudge. I was damaged not dead.
Somehow we had our miracle, my daughter in it all was my light, my saviour, my raison d’etre. In the absence of being able to find any reason for making the godforsaken decision to marry him I was more than content that she was that reason. Without him there would have been no her and for that alone I would be eternally grateful that I made that godforsaken decision. We drifted, I withdrew, my baby and me, we fulfilled each other, we were great together and I felt love for someone like I never knew possible and I received love like I never knew possible. No doubts, no lies, no ulterior motives. My dad died. She healed me. I couldn’t have coped with the loss of the only person on Earth who knew me if she hadn’t been there eager to get to know me.
Our marriage carried on and we drifted like housemates who eventually decided to call it a day and I came alive a little again. I loved being alone, I loved not having to think of someone else anymore, I blossomed.
We grew up, we tried again. Do not ask why, I will never know, I was prompted by something and our second miracle arrived and boy was he a miracle, just thinking of him fills my heart to bursting, the male of the species who taught me that they are not all bad, they are actually quite awesome and they are very simple and honest by and large.
Our marriage was over before he arrived, for good this time and I was alone again and it empowered me being alone, I felt strong and in control, people said I was brave, I didn’t feel brave, I just felt good. I didn’t miss love, I’d never felt it, I’d never loved him and never believed he loved me.
I had relationships with good men and I felt suffocated. I let one take full control of everything in our lives, I worked and looked after my kids and he took care of everything else and it was a good arrangement, I wasn’t worried or scared, I was happy but this time I knew he loved me and I couldn’t love him and I had to let it go, it was tough that one, very tough and so I made it the last one and swore never again. It wasn’t control of material things I had a problem with it was the feeling of not being in control of myself when I was with a man, I couldn’t breathe … I can’t explain that here, maybe someone understands.
Then here and now, I started this journey in April. I’ve known Nick for 25 years he was a lover who later became a friend once we were both married and had children circumstances brought us together. Our relationship had been the closest I’d come back then to believing someone loved me and to allowing myself to love someone but ultimately due to a terrible misunderstanding it never was allowed to flourish or blossom and it lie in wait for 25 years until an innocent invitation to come visit the seaside and get out of the city was extended to a life long friend. We were two single, middle aged mates having a weekend talking face to face instead of on the phone, hanging out, grown up or near grown up kids doing their own thing, no responsibilities or worries. Only that wasn’t it, one of them, him, had decided that this was the time to rekindle the fire, to get back what he had secretly regretted letting slip away and whilst he didn’t regret his life, wife, kids etc he felt this was time to be with the person he should always have been with, the person he truly loved unconditionally… that was me (just in case you’re not keeping up). He didn’t tell me that in so many words, he said that he wished we’d carried on back then, he wished he’d not listened to what broke us up, he had often wondered what if…
Now, as I said, this was news to me, I’ve kept in touch with a few blasts from the past and this has never happened before and also, as I said, he had been a bit of a special one who stuck in my memory with a whiff of unfinished business about him but only a whiff you understand, it wasn’t a strong scent, sometimes it wasn’t there at all but now and then I’d think back and reminisce maybe with other of our old friends and it would twinge, something would tinkle somewhere in the deep recesses of my conscious.
I realised some time ago that that Nick had been the only guy I’d ever made love with. (Don’t worry it’s not getting graphic) I’d had lots of sex and enjoyed much of it but it was a performance, an art for me, I guess if I’d had the confidence or the need I’d have been able to work in a strip joint or lap dancing club no problem, it was all front, an act, a performance, no feeling, gratification yes, but emotion? No, definitely not, never. But there had been a time during our liaison back then that my guard was down, the mood was right and something unusual happened and I always wondered if that was the sole reason why he held that special tinkle of a place in my mind and heart. But then it wasn’t something I thought of much. I’m quite good at switching off and compartmentalising, mentally and emotionally. In one box was Nick and my friendship. In another box was mine and Nick’s former relationship. In yet another box was Nick’s significance as an ex with something extra. Those boxes didn’t get opened at the same time.
So I figured, once i realised that Nick wanted to rekindle and I felt confident enough to do so that we were just going to close the Nick and I as friends box and start a new Nick and I as a mature ‘thing’ box. That’s cool, I can handle that. There’s room in my box cupboard, I’ve had a good clear out lately.
Then he only goes and tells me he loves me, he always has, always will and the whole bloody pile of boxes don’t only pop open like they contain ugly painted Jacks that swat me in the face but the lids fly off somewhere and are taken away on a gust of wind and I can’t get the buggers back on.
It was all going well until then. We were having a grown up fling, not even that, we were grown up enough to just be friends with a little something extra, not even benefits, coupons maybe, yeah we were friends with coupons. It was good, I liked it. He coaxed me out in a very good and wholesome way and made me relax, helped me enjoy male company and not worry about it, not feel threatened by it, not feel like I had to do anything to maintain it other than be me. He made me feel that it was OK to take something from a relationship and to lean in and do some depending, some relaxing and enjoy some love and tenderness, to be cared for and to just let go… trust.
I thought about where it might go of course I did and I concluded that it would go nowhere, it might carry on as it was or it might die off and normal friendship would be resumed, the coupons would be all used up or go out of date and we’d be back to a comfortable friendship again with a warm memory to add to the Nick as lover box. For an avid planner, it wasn’t a plan it was just a projection and a realistic opinion which I was happy with but also happy to just let it be and see where it was going. I’ve learned to let go a bit on this journey and I didn’t want to hold on to this I wanted it to flow. I didn’t want labels. I knew that he wouldn’t leave his home near his children, his business, he’s a city boy at heart. On the other hand I would leave my home eventually, I’m also a city girl at heart and my children have no desire to remain in this area, my daughter has gone and my son will go too. BUT that didn’t mean I was lined up for a move in with Nick at all in any way shape or form, in my head that was not even a twinkle let alone a tinkle, it was not even a whiff let alone a strong odour. I would continue to live alone wherever forever and our relationship would go on or die out.
It’s all happened too fast that’s the problem, maybe if this was in a year’s time it would be different but once it’s said it’s no good saying “we can wait” because it’s like the elephant in the room then. So what was the story… he loves me, always has, wants to grab it while we can, wants to continue to love me, grow old with me, be with me, yadda yadda yadda. The where’s and how’s have not come into it yet thankfully, that indicates to me that it’s just a natural thing it’s not contrived. That’s what I wanted, a natural flow but I didn’t want it to flow here, now.
He’s been divorced/separated for 3 years now with a 2 year split/reconcile cycle before that and I’ve been single for 8/9 years unless you count the electrician I couldn’t keep my hands off and had to deal with on a regular basis no strings attached.
What do I feel? I have no idea. I feel at times that I love him, that at others I could take it or leave it. When I’m with him I love him I don’t want to think of him leaving, I’m happy but when he’s gone I was putting him in his box and opening up the happy to be single again box, no problem, it was easy. I had the odd pang of missing him but it wasn’t debilitating, I could clap my hands and extinguish it like a fruit fly.
So he told me on the phone after our mammoth conversation, next day, how he feels, he couldn’t wait to see me he had to tell me he was exploding with it… love I think he meant. I was glad that it wasn’t on Skype because I think my reaction might have put him off, I sank. Not because I don’t believe him or I’m not happy that he loves me, of course I am (which is an improvement on the past believe me) or because I don’t love him because I do at times but because I don’t need this. I just don’t. I’m full. I’m bubbling over just how it is. If he’d just said he loves me that would have been great but he had to do that bloody grown up thing of wanting to know where we go from here. Why not just leave it at I love you, that would have done, that is not bringing drama to my world, that is acceptable, good, yes, we’ve moved on from couponing now we’re into cold hard cash territory, full price, no discounts, real deal shit, a new box has opened, Nick the man who loves me but I don’t want to have to stick an addendum on that Nick the man who loves me… and I have to discuss the future with.
I’ve been messed up since it happened. I put him off coming for the weekend and I’ve been very unsettled emotionally. So unsettled that I spoke to my mum about it! What the heck! She’s been at death’s door again and rhino that she is she’s bounced back from the brink and has decided that I’m her favourite child, the only one who comes close to understanding her, the only one who truly cares about her and the one she feels she has let down the most and the one she realises has a golden heart that no body ever saw – I’ve shed buckets of tears over this crap and to top it all Nick’s in love with me. I can’t handle it.
My mum loves me and my boyfriend loves me. What the f*cking hell is wrong with me? Do I actually want people to not like me? Is that the problem here? Someone tell me because I think I’m going mad. What the freaking freak is going on? I only went on a bloody diet for crying out loud and now I’m like in this love bubble thingy and I want to get out but I don’t get why.
Last night I had a dream that I was in one of those Zorb things you know those huge plastic transparent balls that you clamber into and they roll you down a hill in, like a hamster ball? I dreamed I was in one of those with my daughter as a baby snuggled under my left arm and my son as a baby snuggled under my right arm and I was holding onto them and rolling out of control. They were giggling, I was filled with a need to kick my way out of there and I tried and tried to get out but couldn’t. I couldn’t understand why they were so happy and enjoying it and I was filled with dread.
I think I made my own hell somewhere down the line. I’m happy though, I am happy. I feel good about everything else in my life, I have even got to thinking that I understand my mum and that I’m so glad that she knows and that she has acknowledged at last and that she hasn’t put pressure on me, she just wanted me to know I guess and it’s so good to know but that’s it, no further action required.
I have to work this out with Nick, I have to figure out what’s happening. If you’d asked me last weekend or the weekend before if I love him I would say yes, I’ve always loved him in some way or other but yes I love him romantically and I am in love with him, feeling like a 19 year old but this time around not one who gets set on fire or drowned depending on which is closer, fire or water but one who has found her prince charming, there’s no wolf in sight and it’s all going to be happy ever after… so why did it all change when he told me that he loves me?
He makes me feel more alive than I feel when he’s not around as difficult as that is because I am en fuego right now. I wonder if I feel like I’m not ready for him? I don’t know. I wonder if I feel that I have to finish this journey to me first. I want to put him back in the friendship box, but then I wonder if it isn’t time to just get all of my Nick boxes down from the shelf, blow the dust off them all and pour the contents into one box just simply marked Nick. Is it that compartmentalising that is my downfall? I don’t know.
I don’t want to not be with him again, I’ve missed him this weekend, my daughter said I’ve punished myself as always but instead of stuffing my face I’ve rejected something I love more than food… that was a big statement and I wondered when did she get so like me? But it worried me, are we heading for a disaster if I replace food with Nick and use him to hurt myself with instead? Is that what I did with those guys when I was young? Is that why I was slim all that time because I was destroying myself with guys rather than cakes? Will I always want to destroy myself with something? Bloody hell, I have to laugh at myself because if I don’t I’ll cry. What a fucked up fool hahahaha. Big sigh, smile, twinkle in eye, I’ve go to be at work in a few hours and then I’ll be home and I’ll have to call him… I hate this stuff, I’m so immature with this kind of rubbish.