Monday, 28 June 2010
Time to pack up and leave. I took all your comments onboard and the majority of you seemed to be in agreement with the little voice in my head...
Time to move on.
I'll be keeping this blog open for the time being, I would never want to delete it, it was incredibly important to me.
But if you want me now you need to come and see me over at Just Me.
So will you? Please?
And if you don't then that's fine, I wish you well on your way and thank you for all your support and comments over the past year and a bit.
Hopefully see you soon
Sunday, 27 June 2010
I'm so sorry but I have to go. I hope you won't be too upset.
I see your beautiful white flowers have withered and turned brown as quickly as they arrived. Why don't they last longer? When you get up close to you I realise you're already beginning to look a little drab and you can't do that, it's only just properly summer time.!
Good luck in the future Mr Tree, I'll miss seeing you every day. I hope the new people in the flat will appreciate you as much as I did.
Monday, 21 June 2010
And then I really felt like I needed to blog.
(This is why you should never scratch an itch.)
But then I realised that I most definitely do not have any coherent thoughts at the moment that would make blogging worthwhile. I need to work on that and then post. Which is precisely why I shouldn't be posting at this moment in time.
(Is any of this making sense?)
There are so many things I want to tell you about - moving out, moving in, new surroundings, killing myself unpacking, crochet stuff, Stitch & Bitch exhibition stuff (it's this Thursday!), Warfarin nonsense (having been ridiculously low for all that time I went this morning and I'm a whopping 3.9 - too high too thin!! I feel like I'm on a really rubbish version of the Price is Right.)
And this is why I need to logically order my thoughts and decided what to blog about and how to go about it.
But I do have one tiny favour to ask you.
Shall I start a new blog??
I feel like this blog has been wonderful, it's been the best yet and I feel I have come on leaps and bounds in terms of expressing myself and making bloggy friends. However. It was also founded and based upon a significant period of my life which is now over - should I start again somewhere else?
At the very least I need a name change seeing as I, you know, now don't live with a boy.
So I open it up to you lot:
1. Do I stay here? (In which case what the hell do I call this blog?!)
2. Do I go and start afresh? (In which case what the hell do I call this blog?!)
This is precisely why you shouldn't blog on a whim. My posts need to be ordered and thought out, otherwise I come off sounding like I have mental problems. Just think what it's like to be around me in person.
Tuesday, 15 June 2010
I've spent a lot of time over the past week questioning whether or not there is something wrong with me. Seriously how was this guy not making me happy? He could go down in the record books as the most perfect boyfriend ever - how was this not enough for me?
I went away this past weekend, we've both been living in the flat since last Tuesday, which has been uncomfortable to say the least.
It was only while I was away that I realised how not happy I have been. Things weren't terrible with the boyfriend at all and I certainly wasn't unhappy, there was just that niggle. This weekend that niggle was set free and I remembered what it was like to be me again. I hadn't noticed I wasn't being me, I think it had been so gradual, but I could feel me slowly returning and now that that niggle has gone it's actually quite relieving.
Mainly however I've been feeling incredibly guilty about my decision to end things. If ever there was a person who didn't deserve to have their heart broken, it was him.
I spoke to my brother on the phone on Sunday afternoon. I told him that I felt really guilty for doing this to him. He said I shouldn't feel guilty - I was just doing what felt right and then he said something which kind of shocked me. He said he was proud of me.
It's not what you expect to hear when you're pretty sure everyone's in agreement that you fail at life.
But he persisted. He has a failed marriage behind him and he said he wished he'dd been brave enough to leave, rather than hanging on and hoping that things would get better when he knew deep down that nothing was going to change.
The conversation left me feeling much better, maybe I shouldn't keep beating myself up?
And then along came you lovely people and all of you said the same thing. It made me ridiculously emotional (which isn't hard at the moment admittedly but still). When my brother said it I thought it was just a sibling love kind of thing, but there you all were, echoing his sentiments. (And I'm assuming he didn't tell you all to say that stuff to me.)
Reading all your comments, I felt my confidence slowly beginning to be restored. I did make the right decision and, you know what? I was brave, it did take a lot of courage to stand up and say "This isn't right", something my boyfriend knew, but wasn't prepared to face.
Yes I do still feel guilty, it's hard not to. I don't' want to hurt people, I want to amke them happy and it's a horrible feeling knowing you've broken someone's heart. But I also recognise that I have to be happy too and sacrificing your own happiness to serve someone else's is not they way to go.
So thank you bloggy people. Thank you from the bottom of my little black withered heart :)
Sunday, 13 June 2010
For the most part I liked them. I took to it pretty well and enjoyed splashing about and learning to swim my first width and the like. I just had one small problem...
...I was terrified of jumping in.
One morning the teacher got us all out of the pool and asked us to line up on the side. My knees were already knocking together, I just didn’t want to do it. And then I came up with a cunning plan. I would do the tiniest jump ever, just a little bit away from the side and then the side of the pool would still be close to me and everything would be ok.
I watched the other children leaping off the side of the pool. There were a couple of helpers who were in the water with us and some little girls and boys were aiming for their arms and flying off the side of the pool. Not for me. I had a plan.
I was last in line. The teacher tapped me on the shoulder and I put the plan into action. Just one teeny tiny weeny jump. I jumped...
And landed smack on my backside on the pool’s edge. I can still remember the pain that shot up my spine. My Dad, who was sitting along the side watching at the time, told me later that his first thought was “My god, she’s paralysed herself.” The pain was unbelievable. And I made sure everyone knew how much it hurt. I screamed like a bitch.
I was helped up from the side of the pool. It hurt to even walk and they let me hobble into the changing rooms and told me to sit down. I sat and I sobbed. A few minutes later my teacher came in.
“Come on. Lets get back in the pool” he said to me. I was absolutely horrified and protested but he insisted. He was very wise and knew that the best thing for me to do was get back on the horse, or in the pool, whatever, basically I had to do it straight away or my phobia of jumping in would get worse.
Reluctantly I agreed to go back to the pool. I got there and sat down on the edge, ready to ease myself in. The teacher tapped me on my shoulder.
“What are you doing?” he asked
“Getting back in the pool” came my reply
“No no no. You’re going to jump back in the pool”
“But what if I do it wrong again?”
“You won’t. You’re going to jump into the pool this time.”
“But what if my head goes under?”
“Then you’ll come back up again. Just close your eyes and jump. Everything will be alright.”
Simple. But true. And so I followed his advice, jumped properly this time and yes my head did go under the water and yes I came back up again, but most importantly I managed to overcome my fear. It became a standing joke amongst everyone there about my failed jump into the pool, a joke that continued to the point 6/7 years later when my swimming teacher was teaching me to be swimming teacher. No-one would let me forget it. If anyone mentioned jumping or diving in to water, a little wink would be thrown my way.
And I’m glad they did because I thought about this story a lot in the past few weeks. Especially what Paul said to me.
“Then you’ll come back up again.”
And so. On Tuesday. I closed my eyes and I jumped.
And ended my relationship.
I haven’t been happy for months now and I’ve tried to make things better but I can’t. Something just isn’t right and I think that the boyfriend deserves more. He deserves someone who is happy and fully appreciates him. Maybe I’ve been stupid and will forever go down in the annals of time as The Girl Who Gave Away The Perfect Boyfriend, because he really was. But sometimes perfect isn’t enough. There needs to be something more and that something, whatever it is, is missing.
I could stay. Nothing was drastically wrong, we didn’t argue, he adored me and would have done anything for me. But I wasn’t happy. And I can’t stay in a relationship where I’m not happy. Yes stability is great and wonderful and yes I have given away my shot at marriage, babies and houses, but I can’t settle.
Maybe one day I will settle, maybe I’m being unrealistic (although I don’t think I am). But the fact remains that at 27 I can’t make a life with someone if I’m not really happy. Imagine a lifetime of being ok but never really being happy, always knowing in the pit of your stomach that something is wrong...I just can’t do it.
I hope you won’t judge me too harshly, although I fear that some of you will. It’s hard to properly convey things in a blog. Especially when you don’t know the people involved. I’ve tried my hardest to explain in the above two paragraphs but I’ve done my best.
And although I’ve gone down, I know that I’ll come back up again.
Monday, 7 June 2010
5. The blanket is finished!! I do intend to take better photos of it in decent light to show you but for now you will have to do with this photo of Lily modelling the finished item which is currently residing on the back of the sofa.
6. And now to the point. I am taking a break. A break from blogging. Inspiration has been in short supply lately and there are going to be some changes and upheavals going on very soon. I think you probably know what's coming. So until I can get my head sorted out I'm going to have to love you and leave you for a while.
I'll still be hanging out on the blogosphere, reading your blogs and commenting away. I'm far too nosy to go completely silent.
So I'll see you when I see you. Knowing me it won't be long. I'm prone to the dramatics.
And posting pictures of my stomach.
Saturday, 5 June 2010
For some completely unknown reason my blood is still 1.7 after a week of injecting Fragmin and taking 10mg of warfarin.
So Friday evening I had to take 12mg of warfarin and I'm back at the clinic at 12.10pm today (Saturday).
I don't want any more rat poison in me :(
I'm tired of asking people to keep their fingers crossed for me. But would you mind? Would you? Just keep your fingers crossed that the reading tomorrow starts with a 2. Ok?
Apologies for the crap picture I quickly grabbed a snap of it when the nurse went out to consult someone about how far my dose of warfarin should be increased. I wasn't sure if I should be taking pictures or not and didn't really want to ask her if I could take a photo and then have to explain that it was to make a blog post about how my INR hadn't increased more interesting...yeah...way too complicated. Always better to sneak a photo instead.
Wednesday, 2 June 2010
Do you remember the time we first properly met? It was at that party that someone in my year had for his birthday, I was 15. His parents thought he was having a few friends round and he’d actually invited the whole year round. I ended up being sick in his kitchen sink, and various other people were vomiting in the toilets, bedrooms and garden respectively. His Mum and Dad went mental when they came back home.
Despite this not brilliant beginning we became firm friends and you’ve stuck by me through every single momentous occasion in my life. In fact you’ve been a staple of every single momentous occasion in my life.
Remember the time I went minesweeping at my brother’s wedding because I didn’t have much money? I didn’t spend a penny all night and was so hungover I couldn’t get up to wish them farewell on their honeymoon in the morning. And do you remember the time of the absinthe cocktails in Sheffield where I lost the ability to move or speak and just sat on a speaker all night? And the time I decided it would be a good idea to walk back to Salford barefoot and sliced the bottom of my foot open on a beer bottle? There are almost too many fun times to remember.
And what’s been brilliant about our friendship is that I can go for weeks without seeing you and then when we meet up on a night out I revel and bask in your company and can’t get enough of you and it’s like we’ve never been apart.
I think the reason that you’ve made me so happy in the past is that you’ve boosted my confidence a million-fold. I’ve come to rely on you so much when I’m out with friends – I might start off feeling pretty shy, but a couple of hours in your company and I’m feeling wonderful about myself. You’ve become my emotional crutch and I think I’ve been taking you for granted.
Who knows why I don’t have the confidence myself? Maybe it’s because of the first boyfriend who told me I was no good. Maybe it’s because I’m the product of a broken home. Maybe it’s because I was best friends with the undisputably prettiest and most talented girl in school and I got used to never coming in first. Maybe it’s because of a million things or maybe it’s just that some people are wired to be confident and some people are wired to be consumed with doubt and self-consciousness. Either way, I’ve come to rely on you so much that I never stopped to consider going out without you by my side.
I hope you understand that it wasn’t my decision to remove you from my life, if I had my way we’d always be friends. But Dr’s orders are Dr’s orders and whilst I’m on the warfarin I’m not allowed any alcohol. There’s just nothing I can do.
When I first heard the news I laughed about it and thought “Oh no what a nightmare” but as time has gone on I realised that I wasn’t finding it so funny. The thought of having to go out on a night out and be stone cold sober was not sitting well with me. And the more I realised how scared I was by the prospect of facing a night out without you, the more I came realise that we possibly don’t have a very healthy friendship. I shouldn’t need to consume vast quantities of you just to feel ok, I shouldn’t have to have a couple of glasses before I go out so I can face walking in to a bar to meet up with people.
I need to somehow dredge some confidence up from down in my boots and learn to stand on my own two feet. I shouldn’t need you to have a good night out, you should just be a bonus.
And so I face my first occasion without you on Friday. And what an occasion it is. A 30th birthday party. And even better, a fancy dress party. Those three words strike fear into my very soul whenever I hear them. They are an un-confident person’s worst nightmare. As someone who strives to go unnoticed on a night out (I don’t use you to make me the life and soul of the party, I just use you to make me stop thinking that everyone’s looking at me) the idea of going out to be purposely noticed makes me tremble. The last time I did fancy dress I got dressed up as a policewoman and had to drink most of the contents of a gin bottle before I stepped foot out of the door.
The idea of walking into that hall, dressed up, without you by my side, telling me it’s ok, actually makes me feel physically sick. I have honestly thought about pulling out but that thought was a sobering one (if you’ll excuse the pun). If you’re not wanting to go out because you can’t drink then you need to sort your life out.
So sort it out I will. I will march into that place with confidence. I will find it somewhere.
And I wanted to thank you for your friendship over these past years. If anyone has abused the relationship it’s been me, and for that I apologise. And it’s not goodbye forever, I’m allowed a small peck of you now and then so I’m sure we’ll meet up in the future. And who knows, in 6 months time we could be back to being best friends, although after facing these home truths I don’t think we’ll ever be the same again.
So for now it’s goodbye.
Lots of love
PS One good thing about you not being in my life is that my propensity to fall off ridiculous shoes will be greatly reduced. Which is good news because the Shoes of Death, as they have become known, are coming out to play on Friday night.
Tuesday, 1 June 2010
We were undeterred by the rubbish weather because we are hard. BBQs suck when you're on Weightwatchers because there are way too many points on offer. It is very annoying. But I did my best and had quite a bit of the sweetcorn because that's all good. It was also one of the first times I was surrounded by drunk people and not being one of them. It was strange. And annoying.
4. Did some crocheting.
Oooh what does that picture look like? Does it look like I've joined all my squares together? Oh hell yes. I managed to join all my squares together after a lot of dramatics and eye-rolling and squeals of temper. Now there is just the edging to do (no idea what I'm doing with that) and it is finished. Can't quite believe it.
Mum is off to stay with my sister for a few days so we have taken delivery of Fred and Lily. So far they have mainly slept. I keep going in to the bedroom and fussing and poking them but they've been resolutely boring. This is why they bug us at 3am - they sleep all frickin' day.
7. Got my bake on
Haven't baked since starting Weightwatchers because the thought of finding out how many points were in the stuff I was making made my brain bleed a little bit. However, the WW website has some recipes and today I made banana and Malteser muffins. Only 4 points each, thus eliminating the guilt out of eating something 'bad'. I will be rewarding myself with one tonight because I just found out I've lost another 2.5 pounds (meaning there's officially 10.5lbs less of me than there was 3 weeks ago).