I’m dreading tomorrow night

Tomorrow night is Halloween and to be honest I am dreading it. My parents are not fans, I believe it has something to do with my dad as a milkman having to untie about a million gates on his early morning round after Halloween. But it also has a lot to do with the underlying message, while ‘trick or treat’ is light-hearted or fun basically it can be translated into ‘give me something nice or I will do something nasty to you!’ Which has happened.

I was furious the day I woke up to discover my parents house had been egged. I worried about how it made my parents feel, I wondered who had done something like this…a neighbor…a complete stranger? I felt like my house and my family had been attacked and I think it was that moment I decided I would never do Trick or Treating.

When I moved in with the ex I wondered what we would do about Halloween. In a small village would we be ostracized if we didn’t partake – turns out I had nothing to worry about. I was moved out long before Halloween made an appearance.

But this year I am not. I am alone. In my house.

Being alone in the house I hate opening the door to strangers. I have a slightly over-active imagination and no matter who is on the doorstep I wonder what I would do if they pushed their way into my house. Would I scream or would my voice dry up in fear?

The other fact of the matter is that this has been a really expensive month. I had a stupid expensive Hen do for one of my oldest friends and with a trip across the country to her wedding within the next few weeks, which includes 2 nights in a hotel, public transport costs, wedding gifts, drinks on the day, food on the other days… I’m broke. I don’t have money to waste on buying in candy or anything to just give away.

So I’m going to sit in the dark and pretend I am not in. I wish I wasn’t. In fact I am in two minds about cancelling a DIY evening with my folks and instead leaving my little house to hide at their house instead. Yep, I am so worried about trick or treating that I am fearing spending a night in my house.

I know I’m probably over thinking this but I worry far too much about what people think, and I that has lead to me freaking out about tomorrow.

I have printed off a poster saying I don’t want any callers – lets see what happens!

Unpacking

Last night I had to go through ‘our stuff’ and find a way to stop it being ‘our’ stuff and somehow make it mine. It’s shit… I hate it…and I hate him for doing this to me.

Even now, a year on, there is a MASSIVE part of me that just doesn’t want to. I want to stamp my feet and have it all go away. The pain… the heartache… the tears… all of it. I want him to turn up on my doorstep admit to the world that letting me go was the biggest mistake of my life and beg me to forgive him and take him back.

I don’t want to have to be the bigger person. I don’t want to pick up the pieces and move on. I want to go to bed, pull the covers over my head and just have it all go away.

I’m sick of having to behave like an adult. It’s not fair. IT’S NOT FAIR! I didn’t do anything wrong. I gave myself, my heart unconditionally. I trusted him with it. I trusted him with me. I pinned my hopes, plans and dreams for a future on him and he just walked away. He walked away without properly fighting for me. He was selfish, decided he had had enough and he went.

Moving on is… shit. It’s scary and unpredictable. One day I am fine, the next… I thought a year on I would be fine. Turns out I’m not. I thought I had done the hard part. I had found someone; they had fallen in love with me. That was supposed to be complicated bit, finding someone who could be ‘the one’. Love was supposed to conker all. I was supposed to be planning weddings, babies and grandchildren. Turns out love doesn’t conker all, turns out love may not last forever, turns out love matters very little– I still don’t know what to do with that news.

I pity the person who comes next. I know I can’t let the next person suffer for his errors, but I know that I have changed and they will. The idea of finding someone new both excites and terrifies me. I’m scared to stop loving the ex. I’m scared to start loving someone new. I wonder how I will find the strength to risk it all again. Don’t worry, I will. But every fibre of me wishes that I didn’t have to.

But I do have to. So last night I finally sat on my kitchen floor and started to slowly unpack the boxes of ‘our’ stuff. With each item I unwrapped a memory, a feeling, a thought that I couldn’t hold back. One by one I lovingly unwrapped the tulip shaped wine glasses which my parents had bought me. I had first spotted them just after he had asked me to live with him, and they were the first things that we chose as a ‘we’. I uncovered the champagne glasses that had been bought for us by my aunty, our first ‘couple’ Christmas present from her. I found my half of the matching mug set we bought to commemorate our first skiing trip together. I don’t know how I’m going to use it, but I know I can’t bear to part with it. Picture frames, some filled some not, ornaments, vases, jugs. All things that I can still see sat in my home with him that don’t yet look at home in my new place. I won’t give them up. I’m stubborn like that. The items I have are dear to me, and just because he broke me doesn’t mean I can take it out on them. I am not going to box up and throw away anything that he touched. I am going to heal; these things are going to help me heal…

I did two boxes last night. I wasn’t alone. I don’t know if I could have done it alone. My parents were there; I think that’s why there were no tears. I don’t want them to see me crying again. They know I am still hurting, they know I still love him.

I have considered telling him. Taking the leap, telling him I still want to try again. But I know I can’t. The trust is gone and you can’t have a relationship without trust.

So I continue to unpack boxes, hoping somehow I will unpack something that finally heals me.

The Anthem Challenge #1

So in a round about way I was asked to partake in the Anthem Challenge. Well more I commented on Pauls’ blog and he said he hoped I would take part…but if we go with asked it makes me sound way more important so…

Anyway, the challenge is to share 10 songs which have played a major part in my/your life. So here goes.

The song is Iris by the Goo Goo Dolls and it is my favourite song. Enjoy!

 

 

A new look

The observant among you will have noticed that there has been a small change around here, and to be honest I think it indicates a change within me as well.

My old blog design was chosen when I was with the ex. I don’t know what made me choose it. I spent hours trying different designs to ensure I got the blog I was happy with. As a girl who hates change my plan was to make this one blog look ‘the one’. I thought my blog design would stay static, a sort of branding where people would come and visit me and it would become familiar.

To begin with I loved it.

But over the last few months, when I have visited my actual blog rather than the WordPress dashboard I have found my little area of the internet a little dark and depressing. It didn’t really represent me, how I felt or what I am about. So I have played with a few designs and for a while at least I am happy with this one.

It is not yet fully right. I appear to have lost momentarily misplaced my sign up button, which I think is a fundamental need for any blog, I mean if you are crazy enough to want to read my stuff the kindest thing I can do is to make it really really easy for you (plus any time taken for you to search for a sign up button is time in which you can come to your senses!!)

Although my new look isn’t as groundbreaking as unpacking, buying my own house or signing up to date online (which I am going to do very very soon!) I do feel like it is a new start, a fresh venture.

Between you and me, I’m quite excited to see what happens!

I can’t take it any more!!!

If you thought this week had thrown everything it possibly could my way, you would be wrong. Apparently it isn’t enough that I had a car journey from hell and came home to be greeted by a boiler that plays mind games… Nope I am also being terrorized by the worlds biggest spider!!!

Don’t believe me. See for yourself…

Run...save yourselves!!

Run…save yourselves!!

Now I know some of you may want to be funny, like some of my unsympathetic work collages were when shown this terrifying spider, and so comments like “where” and “oh, that little thing” may slip from your lips. But let me point out that picture is taken from the other side of my lounge, and the black dot you see near the ceiling is the spider and the items to the left are my new curtain and curtain rails (I hope you like them) and that curtain rail end splays to cover an area roughly the size of my palm. So now you have a comparison, can I have a bit of God damn respect?!!

Here’s my problem. I don’t like spiders. It has taken over 25 years for me to be able to reach a stage where I can put a cup over them and carry them outside (or chuck them out of the nearest window.) If they are outside, then that is fine. That is there home and I leave them alone, all I ask is for the same respect.

This one has broken that treaty. Actually it is not the first as I have had one that has reappeared in the corner of my fire every other day for a few weeks. Each time it appeared I politely asked it to ‘go away and never return’ and *touch wood* it has listened to me this time.

However I do not feel like carrying this one outside in a glass and nicely asking it to leave – for one thing it doesn’t fit it any of the glasses I own!!Also I do have a kind of unwritten rule whereby if I can count the hairs on its legs then I can get someone else to sort it while I run from the room screaming like a girl!!

Last time this spider showed it’s hairy giant face it was thrown out by my lovely brave daddy. (Just one of many reasons my daddy is a hero!!) However now the bugger is back, and took great pleasure in mocking me while I enjoyed my breakfast this morning .

Or at least it did. It walked across the wall, from one corner to another, paused for this photo and then vanished. I have no idea where the bloody thing has gone.

I am currently searching my phone book to find out who is the closest friend I have who can come and play hunt the spider and get rid of it for me. Half an hour isn’t too long a journey is it? Well it’s either that or I put my house back on the market!

My boiler hates me!

I hate my boiler. My boiler hates me. The feeling is mutual. It wasn’t always, when I first moved in I gave my boiler the benefit of the doubt. The first few times I had no hot water and the central heating turned on FOR NO APPARENT REASON… at 3 o’clock in the morning…. causing me to wake in a hot sweat. I forgave it.

I blamed myself. I thought I had set it up wrong.

So I ventured into the cupboard where it lives to re-asses my settings. I fiddled with the dials. I spoke with love… I spoke with respect…. I spoke with desperation… I spoke with threats. I am now onto at least my 3rd different set up of dial configurations.

Yesterday morning I was in heaven. I had not woken in a sweat in the middle of the night. My house was not freezing as I pulled myself wearily from my bed.

I thought it was sorted. I thought we were friends. I put the past behind me in a happy cloud of warmth and went to work.

When I came back the house was colder than expected. Come 8pm the house was freezing and I was snuggled under about 4 blankets and my big ginger collie. I refused to go upstairs and have it out with my boiler. I decided maybe the silent treatment was the only way it would learn…

And then at 10pm last night the bloody thing turned itself on. Just as I was going to bed it gurgled to life.

I am desperate – can anyone explain why, when the dial looks like this…

Although it may not look like it, this is in fact a torture device!!

Although it may not look like it, this is in fact a torture device!!

My heating has turned itself on?

At this exact moment. If it had turned itself on when it was near one of the dials I would at least have some sort of a clue as to why.

However, as far as I can see there is no Godly reason as to why it turned on at this exact moment – well no reason other than the fact it hates me and wants to see me suffer!

I thought I was a competent woman…

I have a good degree…

I have a good job…

but I may have to admit that the boiler has beaten me. Help!!

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Sometimes I Miss You

25castleson25clouds:

So I’ve had a rough couple of days, and this just kinda sums up exactly how I feel. It has moved me to tears. I couldn’t not share!!!

Originally posted on The Fickle Heartbeat:

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A beautiful feature post by Single Strides.

I miss you sometimes. I can admit it to the world but I can’t seem to admit it to you. I’ve managed to go through a month and a half without any contact. In that time, I got closer to reaching my dreams, I traveled to another continent, and another boy got me to laugh.

But still, I find that I miss you sometimes. Sometimes I’ll be driving while singing a song on the radio, and I’ll remember what your voice sounded like singing it, too. When I go to the grocery store and stare blankly at the shelves, I remember when you use to hug me from behind as we picked out our dinner.

To be honest, it kills me that I miss you. Because to be even more honest, I have cried less away from you than I did with…

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