Blast from the past....

29th June 2016

As I was cleaning up tonight, I found a memory stick with some old files on it.  I hasten to add very old files. 

When I moved to London in 2006, it had all been a whirlwind, for those who don't know I met my husband when he was on the TV, he was in a documentary with a guy I knew from cadets and he set us up.  We were engaged within weeks, and after 6 months we were quickly married, and I had sold up, quit my job, divorced my Paula, kissed my family goodbye and moved to London.  I was young and impulsive and I truly believed I had found the one.

We had moved to a 13th Floor Flat in Knightsbridge, it had a lovely view out towards Hyde Park.  We'd been living together for a few weeks and one day I was just standing staring out of the window, marvelling at how impossibly happy I was feeling, and he came and wrapped his arms around my waist from behind, snuggled his face into my neck and told me he loved me and how lucky he was to have me. 

I'd had my heart broken before, I'd been with someone for 5 years, we were engaged, we'd bought a house, we seemed perfect for each other, until I wanted to travel and he wanted double glazing!  We became less and less perfect for one another, and it became messy and ugly towards the end, and I suspect he had moved on before we were over. 

In the moment with ******* arms around me, I wanted to open the window and scream out loud, to tell everyone who would listen how sometimes heartbreak can knock you down, make you feel worthless, but it really does get better... Sometimes you do get your happy ending.

So I started to write it down, from the beginning of what I thought my journey was at that time, and this is what I found on the memory stick last night... 

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December 29th 2003....

I remember the feeling... emptiness, lonliness, like someone had punched through my chest, taken a vice like grip and ripped out my heart.  I was a limp shell that had to find the strength to get out of bed, and when I dragged the covers away fom my legs and settled my feet onto the carpet I couldn't breathe for crying.  The tears kept coming, a relentless torrent of emotion pouring from my eyes, making the corners itchy and sore.  Tissues soiled with grief littered the room. I sank down to the floor in agony, I remember thinking that I'd never known such pain and I began to imagine that the pain would never stop.

The anger and resolve that had flooded my body to make the my decision the previous night was now gone, and had been replaced with a dull ache.  My house seemed very empty, his clothes still folded neatly on the blanket box started a fresh bout of gut wrenching sobs. I crawled with blurred vision to the bathroom and dragged myself up to splash water on my already sodden face, anything to try and wash away the pain, but there was nothing I could do but grieve. 

When he came to move himself out of my house and life, I stayed in my room, I forced myself to believe I was being strong.  I tried to make myself smile as I pretended we'd stay friends, keep things amicable. It was inevitable that things wouldn't work out that way, we'd been too deep in love to pretend that we could somehow salvage a friendship from the ashes. And when I heard him say to **** "thats the last of it" and closed the door behind him I sank onto the bedroom floor crying for hours, not noticing the time, the phone ring, the day change into night...

December 30th 2003....

Missed Calls: 63 - I don't have the energy to talk to anyone....

 

December 31st 2003....

I stretched out as the days light came streaming in past the curtains I didn't have the energy to close, illuminating the dust that had begun to settle on every surface, I sobbed quietly but I didn't have to drag myself out of bed this time. I stripped down to bare skin and surveyed myself in the bathroom mirror, my hair was lank and greasy, my eyes swollen and sore, my cheeks pale, my mouth downturned, crease lines on my skin from the bed covers, and a hollow empty far off look in my eyes. I stepped into the shower and turned it on full letting the water wash over me, hoping it had some healing powers but knowing nothing can cure the hurt you inflict on yourself by simply remembering small things, like how he smelt, how he felt to hold, I soaped up, scrubbing days of misery from my skin, washing days of grief from my hair, and I can close my eyes now and still smell that cheap fruity apple shampoo.

I stepped onto the carpet not caring that I was dripping wet and leaving wet footprints around the room, there was no-one to complain about it but me. I picked a fluffy peach towel from the shelf and wrapped myself up in it. The clean softness on my skin felt comforting and I knew I had a choice, I could either climb back into the bed that I had barely moved from for days, or I could get dressed and act like a human being again.  And thats what I did, I dried off, moisturised my body and face, scraped my hair back in a pony tail and pulled on some tracksuit bottoms and a vest.

I stripped the bed, I'd wanted to stay in our bed sheets as long as possible to hold onto the smell of him on the pillows, to wrap myself up in the covers we'd curled up in, but I was beginning to feel a little stronger and I knew it had to be done. I held the pillow to my face for a long time, breathing in his scent, letting memories wash over me and then I stripped everything off and took it straight to the washing machine. 

I grabbed the polish, duster, glass cleaner and hoover and for the next 3 hours cleaned every trace of him away from the bedroom, I opened the window letting in the first bit of fresh air I'd experienced in a few days. The cool air hit me and froze the tears on my cheeks, as strong an act as cleaning him away was, I still cried through every moment of it. I put fresh covers on the bed and instantly the room became brighter even though at this time the sun was beginning to set.

I went downstairs to scavenge for food in the kitchen, the bread had gone hard and the milk was out of date, we'd not been shopping in a while and my choice of food was somewhat limited. I boiled some soup and sat on the sofa sipping it and staring into space.  The phone rang and i ignored it, I heard my mobile trill upstairs and ignored that too. I didn't have the words for anyone. I heard the message tone beep but still I didn't move. And I must have fallen asleep where I was sat.

The next thing I woke to was someone gently saying my name and stroking my hair. It was him, for a moment I thought it may have all been a dream, but I could still feel the dull ache in my stomach and knew it was true. He'd come back to collect something, he saw my swollen eyes and devastated look, but he stayed strong, I almost wish he'd cried to let me know he could feel even some small part of what I was feeling but he didn't, he was almost businesslike. 

I do remember that before he left he held me for a very long time, he held me close, he breathed in my scent, maybe this was his real life version of my pillow moment.... but even then I could feel the newly imposed distance between us and it scared me. He was really saying goodbye.... I was truly on my own now....

And I had a shift to work... paint on a happy face... it was New Years Eve....

 

  

So maybe despite what I said earlier it feels like I'm bringing you in at the end of the story, maybe you feel like you've missed what all the fuss is really about, but as strange as it sounds, this point is where the story I'm going to tell you, the story of my life, my happy ending, this is where it truly began.....

 

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Back to present day 2016, I had to blink away a few tears reading that last night because blimey did parts of that resonate with September 2015 and even this years Valentines day massacre!!

But, what it did make me realise is life is not about happy endings, that moment in our Flat in Knightsbridge where I felt loved and happy and safe, and like I wanted to tell the world that despite shit times happy ones will come, that was just a part of the tapestry of my life.  Part of what makes me the person I am.  I have had lows, I have had highs, and I have had some fairly mediocre days in between.  

 

I no longer believe in happy endings, I believe the path is long, winding and bumpy, and if you're lucky, you meet people who burst your world into technicolour, and they make you forget the times that you wandered alone in the darkness.  I'm happy because I am surrounded by people who almost every day manage to make me feel special because they care.

 

I feel like now I do know love, I know its bright shiny moments and it's blunt sharp edges, I know that one day someone might make me feel happy and safe again, and maybe even the biggest love of my life is yet to come.

 

I would walk 500....

Sunday 26th June 2016

"To walk three miles, or four miles, or five miles, or whatever it is, above her ankles in dirt, and alone, quite alone! what could she mean by it? It seems to me to show an abominable sort of conceited independence, a most country-town indifference to decorum." - Jane Austen, Pride and Prejudice 

On the 1st January 2016 I set myself a challenge to walk and/or run 500km over the 366 days of the year.  I did some statistics, it worked out to be 1.37km a day, which is actually nothing.  However I did stipulate that these had to be walks where I phsyically went for a walk or run, not just where I went to the shop, or walked round the building at work.  And when you factored out commuting, work, cadets, trips up north etc, the time to get it done seemed less than the 366.

 

On Friday 24th June at 19.00 I completed my 500km challenge.  190 days early.

 

Have you ever done something that in the beginning you never actually thought you could do?  Something that when you started seemed maybe not impossible, but a bit of a reach for you personally?  The definition of a challenge is something that needs great mental and or physical effort in order to be done successfully and therefore test a persons ability.  When I set my 12 Challenges for 2016, I deliberately chose things that would take effort, because I knew I needed something to focus my emotionally shattered energy into.

The first walk I went on was in the snow, with my ex.  It was miserable.  He complained almost the entire way, it wasn't about him supporting me in what I wanted to do, it was never about me, he made me feel like I was punishing him because he didn't enjoy walking.  He has complained since that I am unfair to him, that he had his reasons, that the army ruined his enjoyment of it etc.  He just simply didn't understand, and it's ok that he didn't, it's ok that the walk showed us both we wanted different things.  It's not ok what he did next... but moving on.  Looking back, I guess what I saw on that walk, "a world covered in a fresh start" was more spot on than I ever knew at the time.

Over the 176 days that it took me to complete the 500km, whilst I have been joined by different people, I have done a massive chunk of it alone.  I have grown used to striding out in my own head space, mulling things over, considering my future, and on certain walks just marvelling at the beauty of where my feet have taken me.  Maybe walking alone as a woman is not always sensible and does show a concieted independence as my dear Jane Austen once wrote, and I aren't sure I've ever shown too much decorum, (hot tub tiara boob grabbing photo will eveidence that!) though I'd like to remind everyone, I've watched Miss Congeniality, I know how to S.I.N.G!  Actually thinking on, I have never felt lonely out on a walk, I feel more connected if anything.

So the last walk in stark contrast to the first was a bright beautiful sunny day, a few intermittent rain showers, a bramble that slashed my arm and a corn field that felt never ending, were in no way going to stop the grin on my face as the "Map My Walk" lady counted us down every 0.5km.  I had enough to catch Ross up on with my recent adventures, and we talked incessantly pretty much the whole way.

As we approached the last few hundred metres of the 5.9km that I needed to complete, Ross pulled out a champagne surprise and party poppers.  Tears pricked my eyes, but not tears like the first walk.  These were tears of joy, of actual happiness, of achievement... I felt on top of the world.  I am so grateful to have an amazing friend who gets it, and just gets me.  Who knew I needed someone with me on that last walk, who knew how much it meant to me to complete the challenge, who laughed at every air punch I made at every 0.5km, and who has always supported me in exactly the way I have needed.

I have to sincerely and from the bottom of my heart thank Ross, Lyndsey, Stacey, Michelle, Danielle, Amy, Becky, Nicola, Paula, Mike, Joel and the Mumma for accompanying me on parts of my 500km journey!  Every metre you have stepped forwards with me, has taken me further away from the way the 500km started, and I don't know that I have the words to truly thank you for that, in a way that helps you understand what it really means to me.

Every flower blooms at a different pace, so now even with my other challenges to complete, I feel this one is special, I feel like it's the one that has shown me more of the world than I could have imagined, so now it's a race to 1000km, and maybe even beyond, anyone who fancies stomping out with me sometime, just let me know.  

I encourage anyone who's thinking about taking up walking, or challenging themself in anyway to just get out, the streets are your playground, and some of the places you can only reach on foot will take your breath away.  I say do it, because  #thisgirlcan #thisgirlwill and #thisgirldid.

When are you moving home? ...

Wednesday 22nd June 2016

“When I am in the country, I never wish to leave it; and when I am in town It is pretty much the same. They have each their advantages, and I can be equally happy in either.” - Jane Austen, Pride and Prejudice


The last few days I feel older, and maybe a little bit wiser... Hilarious really since I pretty much spent from the 9th to the 19th June hammered, I'm not sure wisdom is found in a fishbowl or a few bottles of Prosecco, but I did have a few epiphanies whilst on my hollibobs!

I think I now have to address the ever burning question, "When are you moving back to Yorkshire?" So may people assume it's a done deal.  And indeed, last week as I sat atop the Cow and Calf and looked out across the rolling hills, my heart ached to have this place accessible whenever I wished for it.  

Just look at that view, who wouldn't want to have that on their doorstep!  But how insensible would I be to make a decision based on an impulse of feeling in the middle of a holiday from a working week...  Yorkshire will always be my home, my family will always love and worry about me, my friends will always want me around, and the rolling hills, they'll be there for my lifetime at least.  Yes it would be lovely to see them when I wanted, but given how busy I end up making myself, and the fact that most folk have families and spouses to entertain I do have to question where I would fit in.

I have spent the most amazing two lots of ten days seeing my friends and family, some close, some distant, some brand new.  I have been doing lovely simple things like the school run, taking my friends kids out for the day to see donkeys, shopping (shoes yay!), dining out, and drinking LOTS.  I have been random and revelling in not wearing a bra outside (Tankini!!) being groped in a hot tub, built sandcastles on the beach and worn a tiara in public LOTS!  I have had the most relaxing massage ever and superb afternoon tea and champagne with one of my oldest friends, putting the world to rights.  I have well and truly spoilt myself, and when someone critiqued me for spoiling myself, I had to counter with I think given what I've been through the last few months I could spoil myself from now until to eternity and not feel bad about it.  Perhaps it was a poor choice of words on that persons behalf, perhaps not...

But the more I was home, the more I missed "normality".  My own space, my routine, my work colleagues, my southern Stacey, my life... and I did begin to fear for my liver!!!

The one thing I have built for myself in "Town" as Jane Austen calls it, is my career, and it seems that with my recent holidays and sickness my input has been missed and is actually valued.  I have found a place at work where I am truly happy, and I believe good at what I do.  I contribute to change and drive decisions, I was on the rise before my life "fell apart", and whilst I may have a bit to catch up on, I think I can get back there again.  I have a "family" at work, who really do care about me, and strong friendships that exist beyond the office walls.

The Mumma bought me a beautiful engraved pendant, it said "Learn from the past.  Live in the now.  Visualise the future."

So in answer to the question, thats what I'm going to do, live in the now, down here in London town.  Get back on top of my "To Do List", enjoy the new friendships I'm forming, carry on with my 2016 Challenge List (just a mere 13km left out of the 500km to do whoop whoop) and visualise what I want my future to be.  

I'm not ruling out that one day I'll go home to Yorkshire, after all, as a friend pointed out, I do call it home...

Life is a seesaw sometimes...

Monday 13th June 2016 / Tuesday 14th June 2016

"She had a lively playful disposition, that delighted in anything ridiculous" - Jane Austen, Pride and Prejudice

*Lini watches a tumbleweed blow across the page*

I cannot believe it has been almost a month since I last blogged.  What's flattering is that people have asked when the next one was coming, but I haven't, until now, found the inspiration to return to this corner of the internet.

The last few weeks have been a mixture of extreme highs and lows, there has been side splitting laughter, real heart ache, complete confusion, copious amounts of alcohol and a severe lack of wellbeing caused by a chest infection.

So where to start, how to begin tonights entry? What has prompted me today to take "pen to paper" and document where I find myself today.  The irony is that whilst today is the 13th/14th as I begin and finish this blog, my mind hasn't been on the fact that it's now 4 months since the Valentines weekend massacre, I only realised that as I typed the date into this blog.

I have spent a significant amount of time in the north over the last month, I have had some fun adventures through my friends childrens eyes, and in some ways have regressed to being a "child" myself.  I'm sure if I start one more story with "I was so hammered" people might think I'm trying to relive my teenage years.  But there is something about Birstall that makes me feel "young" again, possibly because I never lived my life with my ex here.  These streets are not paved with memories of our time together, we shared no permanent residence here, and he made no effort to ingratiate himself with my friends so noone misses him.  So it's very easy for me to remember being that 24 year old Lini before she fell for "the one".  It's so simple to erase a ten year marriage from view when you have no reminders except a scar on your ring finger and an every shrinking ache in your heart.

In contrast I have found my time in the south marred with illness and worry.  When you're sick you want someone to take care of you, to put their arms around your plague infected body and not care if they catch it.  To fetch you a cup of tea, or check on your temperature.  I have to confess I hadn't realised how pathetic I am when I'm ill until recently.  This chest infection has ruined my sleep pattern, and some days I feel like my chest is loaded with crap as I cough, splutter and breathe like Darth Vader.  Waking up unable to breathe from coughing, unable to get your breath and looking round an empty house is quite the scary occurance, and as the woman who imagines the crimewatch re-enactment of my demise quite frequently when I walk home alone from the pub, the thoughts that race through my head are quite dark and eerie of late.  There have been tears, there have been questions and doubts of my ability to survive living alone...

But despite being constantly tired, sounding like I'm about to cough up a gold chain and sometimes struggling to catch my breath, I have managed to squeeze some fun in too.

There has been the rugby in Newcastle, the sandy beach of South Shields, the frolics of Kirkby Lonsdale, the tranquility of Skipton, the beauty of Bolton Abbey, sandcastles in Scarborough, tiaras and hot tub action in Thwing, boozing in Birstall... I have laughed hard, partied hard and drunk myself into oblivion.  I have caught up with old friends, I have made new friends, I have as my mum puts it "come out of my shell" which for anyone who knows me seems an odd concept, as I have never been backwards in coming forwards, but I guess she means that I am happier.  I am getting more content with who I am, though I remain quite stubborn about some things!

My earlier quote from Pride and Prejudice I find I resonate with.  I in no way consider myself a physically attractive person, I know I'm alright from a good selfie angle and this comment is not designed in any way to provoke anyone to contradict it, we each have our own insecurities, however I do believe I have an attractive personality.  I am able to make friends quickly, and I really do have more friends than I believe I deserve sometimes.  I say what I think, but I believe I deliver it with humour and kindness.  I am never going to be everyones cup of tea, the world would be boring if we were all the same and liked the same things and the same people.  But I am lively and playful and I delight in the ridiculous things that drinking fishbowls in hot tubs will make a person do!  And thats before we mention #sluggate. 
  I could ramble forever in no real direction tonight, for my life has been so full and rich despite being ill the last few weeks, I have discovered joy in things I never knew existed.  I have developed new friendships to the point that I smile whenever I think of them, and I am ever grateful to my family and my friends who instinctively know when I am in need of a hug, some advice, or just to sit in silence and stare at nothing.

Tonight someone shared some advice on Facebook that I ripped off:-

"Love your fucking life.  Take pictures of everything.  Tell people you love them.  Talk to random strangers.  Do things you're scared to do.  Fuck it."

I'd say that's pretty much how I've survived the last 4 months, and how I'll survive the next.  Life is busy, life is fun, and once I shake this flipping chest infection and cough off I feel like nothing is going to stop me... Or stop us... In fact... if this world runs out of lovers, we'll still have each other, nothings gonna stop us.... :)

Oh and I turn 35 on Saturday. Yikes...

*Lini disappears off chasing after that tumbleweed...*