Yo-yo...

Tuesday 19th July 2016

"I could easily forgive his pride, if he had not mortified mine" - Jane Austen - Pride and Prejudice

On Saturday night, I realised that it was the 16th July.  The 16th.  A grin spread across my face.  Why?  Because this month I hadn't noticed the 13th and 14th pass by.   I hadn't felt panicked or pained, in fact my pysche hadn't even reacted, it hadn't dragged me back to memories of the Valentines Massacre I'm trying to leave behind.  I felt elated!

And then... well...

I was alerted to something my ex had posted on his social media, a photograph of him and... hmmmm how should I describe the c*** who thought nothing of repeatedly spreading her legs for my husband when we were together, whilst that is an accurate description, it doesn't very flow well, maybe we'll just leave a *** as an implication, because I have no wish to ever utter her name.  

The photo didn't bother me, it was the content of the description that went with it.  He praised *** for many things, but the one that stung, was for "setting him free".  It read very much like the obliteration of my life was just her "setting him free".  I was hurt, furious, angry, upset and hurt some more.  I had never thought of our marriage as a prison he needed to be freed from.  Whilst we were on different paths, I never imagined his was a caged walkway...

I reacted.  Badly.  I allowed it to consume me.  When he came to collect some post, I was shaking with anger.  I couldn't hold back the tears.  He justified himself, said it hadn't meant to be unkind me, I was never supposed to see it, it wasn't about me and him, it was about him and her.  Lovely to know...

He said something that made me even angrier, about how I'm the strongest person he knows.  How even with everything he's put me through, I'm carrying on, I haven't become depressed, I still get up, go to work, push forward with my life, smash my challenges etc.  I'm not sure how I'm supposed to feel about that other than, "Are you fucking kidding me?"  If he'd chopped off my leg, would I be thanking him for making me realise I could still do things with one leg?  Would I bollocks.  I have never felt like I understood him less than I did in that moment. 

I confess I haven't been kind to him on my social media, I have had a few pops when I've felt particularly low.  Some angry tweets have been put out there.  In fact even this blog doesn't paint him in a favourable light, however I think given what happened it's unlikely that I would extoll his virtues.  Not that I could name any of them right now.  But I'm the wronged party, I'm the one dealing with the hurt whilst he's just cruising on his free wings...

What I now realise is that 5 months is not a long time.  Whilst I have been making leaps forward, and enjoying myself, there are times I have glossed over the depth of the wound.  I have dressed it well, treated the surface damage, but the agony that lies deep within me, hidden most days from view, can be exposed with even just those 3 words I was "never meant to see".

I am strong, I am a force of nature some days, I am woman hear me roar etc..... but other days I am just a little girl, who's heart got broken so badly by the boy who swore he'd love and protect her until the end of time.  There are times the lump in my throat prevents me from articulating what I want to say, times that my eyeballs sting and my lens become cloudy and my eyes fiercly green from the tears.

Someone told me that my heart will heal, that it's not my heart I need to worry about.  It's my mind, that's where the damage is.  I'm a overthinker, I play out scenarios and situations until I think I understand every outcome and eventuality.  I can't envisage ever trusting anyone again, ever wanting to let someone truly in... 

I don't know how many of you remember back in the day way before health and safety, when some property owners would put shards of broken glass in the top of their concrete walls to prevent people climbing on them (it may have just been a Yorkshire in the 80's early 90's thing, before some thief inevitably sued the property owner because they ended up cutting themselves on it!)   

I guess I've built some walls I never intended to build, and the memories in my mind act like those shards of glass, their message being, "I won't let you close enough to hurt me..."