One Night Widow

The Boy won't be coming home tonight so I will not see him till 5:30 tomorrow afternoon :( I shouldn't complain because I know so many women out there have their husbands/partners leaving for work all the time and sometimes for weeks on end and I am very fortunate, but because he is always with me at night I am used to it and even just one night apart isn't nice.

He is away for work, he was asked to be in the fire team and today is the day of some state wide fire competition. I thought it was all a little weird, but he explained it to me on our one hour walk yesterday (yep it took that long for me to understand the whole thing). So today he is running with a hose and putting out fires. Then tonight is a big dinner to celebrate the competition and hand out awards and no wives allowed, so his boss thought it was best if he spent the night in a hotel so he wasn't driving back late at night to get a few hours sleep before going back to work on Friday.

The Boy has left me a few times before. The first was just overnight. I cried (and wondered what happened to my fiercely independent "I'm never relying on a man" attitude) and stayed with mum overnight and was on the phone to him every chance I had. The second time he told me only a few days in advance that he had to go do some training beyond the Blue Mountains and was gone for three nights. That was hard. We were living in The Dump at that point and it scared the crap out of me. Whenever I was there alone, I never actually felt that I was alone, that and the neighbours were breaking windows and their kids were dealing drugs to their friends that pulled up out the front in their car for just five minutes (yeah, real subtle), so again I went to mum's house. No tears, but a lot of phone calls, and he got teased because he had to share with one of the guys and apparently he was calling out my name each night. By the day he was arriving home I couldn't wait, as nice as it was to spend time with mum and my bro, after three nights I'd had enough and was ready to leave.

The last time was an overnighter. This time I decided to be a "big girl" about it and stayed in The Penthouse. I hardly managed any sleep as I waking up every hour looking around for him. Tonight I am going to mum's for dinner, unsure if I will stay afterwards. I suppose I should enjoy the alone time, but I get my alone time anyway. The Boy is always asking if he can "play the x-box". Which is code for "Let's each do our own thing now and when we have it out of our system we can be together again". I get that at least once a week which I am grateful for. I am looking forward to being a kid again tonight. Having mum cook me dinner and probably being stupid with my brother, ending up in an argument and having mum come in to shut us both up. Ah, family.

I do miss him and when he is not around I really feel it. Sometimes I wonder if it means I am too dependant on him. But then we don't have a dependant relationship at all. We are two emotionally healthy people who just want to spend as much time with each other as possible. So I guess it must just be love. Real love, the kind I always dreamed about for most of my life. And it is then that I realise I'm not a little girl anymore, I am finally a "grown up" and fortunate enough to have found the person to share this journey with, someone to do all the "grown up" things with and someone to love and be loved in return.

Something To Wear

I have a lot of clothes in my wardrobe, unfortunately however I can only fit into about 3-5% of them. I have not bought myself new clothes for about 6 months now. Because, you know, what is the point, I'm going to loose weight so it would just be a waste of money. It has meant that on the weekends I have a choice of two outfits. I can wear the very baggy boyfriend style jeans with the grey long sleeve top and the black tee over it, or I can wear my black skirt with a dark coloured long sleeve tee. Neither of these two outfits makes me feel good about myself, I think I either look too daggy and sloppy or too conservative and old.

Since getting off the meds three weeks ago my appetite has gone down dramatically and as a result I have lost 1.3kg. This is a great result, especially considering my focus has been on health, not weight loss. However, I am not going to wake up one morning and magically have the 25kg I gained from the meds disappear overnight. It is going to take time, maybe a year, maybe two years. So on Saturday I told The Boy that I was not going to spend Spring and Summer in the same pair of jeans or the same skirt. I am sick and tired of looking like a dag, I want to look nice everyday and feel good about what I wear. I told him I was actually going to spend some money on clothes. Not a lot, just get a few nice, cheaper clothes to last me the season.

FMIL came down on Sunday to spend the day with us and we went out to breakfast at my favourite place which just happens to be outside our local Westfield. We decided to look around and The Boy wanted to get some jeans and with two for $99 I decided to get a nice pair too. FMIL was fussing around the shop and pulled out a top for me. I had seen it and already ruled it out, but I smiled politely and went to try it on. Surprise surprise it looked amazing, so I bought it.

We continued to walk around and we found ourselves inside a women's clothing shop known for being "affordable" and with generous clothing sizes. I picked out about four tops and thought I would try them on and just buy one or two. FMIL also decided to pick out tops for me. Tops I wouldn't even look at because they are not my "style" (not that I have a style, it is something I need to develop but I would say at that point my style was covering up). However I politely went to try them on. I had over ten tops in the change room and The Boy and FMIL standing just outside waiting for me to come out and model the clothes. That I never do. I like to stay in the change room and decide for myself, I have never had the balls to step outside, at risk of random strangers seeing me and showing other people. On Sunday I didn't have a choice. To my surprise all of the tops FMIL picked out looked amazing on, they looked slimming and fitted me perfectly, they suited me and my age. This woman definitely knows about fashion. I was very impressed, I have so much to learn.

I ended up in total with a great pair of dark flare jeans that can be dressed up or dressed down, that fit my current body shape perfectly, and nine tops. I now have a variety of clothes I can wear now and I couldn't be happier. It has only been a few days but it has changed me. I suddenly care more, I'm paying more attention to my make up instead of the usual look I go for, I'm styling my hair differently, I am walking with my head up and I am not adjusting my clothes while I wear them. I am worried now that she may have unleashed something within me. Something that is telling me to find my style, to experiment and not to be afraid and to be myself. I love FMIL and I told her next time I need clothes I am going with her. The woman I was afraid to say anything to in case I said the wrong thing is now turning out to be my shopping buddy and personal stylist. Who would have thought.

Someone Else's Life

The editing it getting too much. I can only do about a paragraph a day. I am approaching the end (although I am sure I am going to be adding another 50 or so pages because I missed so much detail in the final month or to) and it is getting so much harder. It is about a part of my life I have forgotten about, except for this massive manuscript that I carry with me which reminds me that yes, that really did happen to me.

The final couple of months were the worst, very intense and a lot of stuff happened I would really prefer to never think about again. But I feel I have to. I have come this far, I need to finish it. Reading the words now though, brings it all back to me, and I get so sad reading the words, the words calling out for help, asking why, questioning who I am and how did I get there. Then there is the action, the clear behaviour of self hatred and zero self respect, the vulnerability, how easily I was lead to actions, how in those final times I had no control over my life. It makes me so sad when I look up to realise that it isn't the story about someone else. It is my story. It happened to me and I did what I did and felt the way I felt. I am so far removed from it all now that I feel like it was all a bad dream, that it could never actually happen to me.

Finishing is going to take a lot longer than I thought. I was hoping the first draft would be done by the end of the year, but I know now it won't. Just when I think I am getting ahead, something always comes up. It is ok, it will take as long as it takes. I will only do what I can on the good days. I have to face it all, I'll just have to face it slowly.

So I need another project. I need to start manuscript #2. I need to find someone else's life, someone who has been through so much and came out a winner, someone who can inspire and give strength. I need to write about someone else so when I can't look at my own life I can look into another's and actually feel like I am doing something about being a writer. The only question is who. Family? Such as my grandparents, married 60 years. How do you stay married that long? What is the secret and how can it be achieved? Friends? Such as the girl who lost her brother and father in a short space of time and then had her mother turn against her? How do you survive that? Or a random stranger who perhaps has the greatest story of all to be told. Everyone has a story, I just need to find the right one.

The Boy Can Cook

Being the hopeless romantics we both are, The Boy and I always celebrate our anniversary every month. Sometimes we do something big, other times it is just a little handwritten note. Last week I made mention to The Boy that it would be wonderful if one night he could do all the cooking and I could just sit back and relax and watch TV. Usually we cook together, but it involves me giving him orders on what to chop up and opening tins etc while I am the "creator" who puts it all together to make it an actual meal. I knew he had the creativity in him, I just wanted him to use it.

Wednesday night was our anniversary and he decided to cook for me. He went to the shops and bought everything he needed and when I came home he handed me the menu. I was in for a treat. Around 6-ish he headed off to the kitchen to begin. I couldn't help myself, so I followed. He told me not to do anything, but being the slight control freak I am (ok maybe more slight-moderate) I pottered about unpacking the dishwasher. He was onto me and as soon as it was unpacked insisted I leave the kitchen and shut the door behind me.


An hour later and dinner was served. He even went to the trouble of setting the table complete with a candle centrepiece and very lovingly served sparkling grape juice (as I don't drink). The meal was wonderful. In fact, I felt upstaged, it was better than anything I had ever put on the table. The steak was cooked to perfection with a lovely garlic and pepper sauce, and sitting on a bed of white and sweet potato mash with a side of creamy bacon cabonara and bush spice coated carrots oven roasted. They were my favourite and I will be giving those a go and serving them as a side dish to impress. He even told me that he used an egg ring for the mash to make it perfect "just like on Masterchef" (we are so watching that again next year if it will get him into the kitchen more).

Afterwards we relaxed with apple pie and custard and I went to bed a very very happy girl. I really do have the most wonderful man in the world. It also helps when I decide to tell him exactly what I really want as opposed to being subtle and dropping hints about "what would be nice".

What's On My Bedside Table Challenge

Challenge 11 over at Blog This wants to know what I am reading at the moment. I usually have three books going at one time. A non-fiction/how-to/personal development book, a chick lit and a memoir/autobiography. At the moment I am reading the following;

How To Be Comfy - my token "improving myself" book. I first came across these authors via Speed Cleaning and loved it. This book takes it to the next level and I have learnt so much from this book, lots of dog-eared pages for me to go back to. This book will be put back on the shelf as a very handy reference and I am sure it is contributing to my major nesting phase at the moment, where I am deep cleaning the Penthouse making it as "homely" as possible. I can highly recommend this book to anyone. It is also perfect for reading just before going to sleep as your brain just switches off from information overload after just a few pages.

Sex And The City . Being an avid fan of the show, where I can relate nearly everything in my life to a SATC episode as well as being able to verbally repeat half the scripts, I thought it was about time I finally got around to reading the book. I couldn't be more disappointed, it is nothing at all like the show. I understand it is a collection of Bushnell's column etc, but I am finding it very shallow, I like my chick lit with just a little more substance in it. I am surprised though because I recently finished Bushnell's One Fifth Avenue, and enjoyed that (although it did get a little tedious in the middle) and I hate to say this, but she has come a long way with her writing, because I don't think much of this book at all.

The Lucy Family Alphabet - In the process of editing my own work at the moment, I always have a memoir going so that I can study it to see what makes it good and what makes it bad and adjust my own accordingly. I am only just into this one at the moment and so far so good. Very funny (as to be expected) and makes you realise your upbringing was totally normal. For me personally it has shown me that I have have way to much internal dialogue and need to get more action into my work. So far I would recommend this book.

So there you have it, that is what I am reading now. Along with a selection of magazines and lots of wonderful blogs.

The Ex Files

I never understood why early on in relationships/dating, men always brought up their ex's. What would make them think we want to hear about it? I used to sit and squirm at all the unnecessary information as I tried not to picture them with another woman. I can recall one first date where the guy spent the entire 3 course meal going on about his ex, and for half an hour he told me about the freakin sausages, how he was at work, and she was at home and didn't want to cook, so she defrosted some sausages for him and left them in a pan on the stove for him to cook when he was home (see I still remember, that is how much detail he went into) and he couldn't understand why she did that, and didn't I think that was weird? Why didn't she just cook the sausages? Why did she not have dinner on the table for him ready as he walked in the door? I don't know, maybe because it was 2007 not 1950. But apparently that made her a female dog. Needless to say there was no second date, I said goodnight and he thought the most appropriate way to say goodnight was by reaching out and squeezing B1. He was pushed out of the car and never heard from again.

I was very fortunate with The Boy. He never brought her up. Everyone else did, his parents, family and friends, they all told me how much a female dog she was and how I was soooo much better, and all the things she used to do. Still, I didn't want to hear it. I finally met the man of my dreams and the last thing I wanted was to know all about the 5 years he spent with b**chface (that is what he calls her, actually, that is what everyone calls her). That imagery only upsets me. He knew that, and we never discussed ex's. Neither of us wanted to know.

Occasionally it would be brought up, a nasty story to share, sometimes it slipped out when something was remembered.
"Who was that with?"
And there was no answer, just a look, a look that said, you know, one of the people we don't discuss.
I was happy with this, and so was he, however last night I realised that it had changed. I am not sure how, or when, but it has changed.

We went for a walk after work, and it is a good 50 minute walk, somehow we were talking about pets, and he told me that he remembers the dog they used to have, and unfortunately it was run over.
"Oh, baby that is awful! Was it by someone you knew?"
"Yeah it was."
"Who?"
"B**chface."
"What, really? Wow she must have felt awful."
"No that was the weird thing, she didn't."
"What do you mean?"
"She wasn't upset at all and didn't even apologise, all she said was she would hate for it to happen to her cat."
I paused and looked at him. He nodded. It was all true.

But what was more strange was that for the first time I didn't feel all weird and sick about it. I actually felt proud. He then continued to tell me more awful stories, and I continued to tell him how much of a female dog she was and how weird she must have been. It felt so good to do that, is that bad? Suddenly I don't mind talking about her now, because I am the one who has him, I win, that and I am clearly so much more superior than her. Is that why I never wanted to talk about ex's? Because I was afraid they were prettier/smarter/skinner/friendlier/more successful than me? Is that why it was weird? Because they were still a threat. And now after all this time has passed it isn't an issue, because I won?

I am not sure what it is, because it is only with The Boy and after all this time that I am comfortable with it now. It did strike me as odd, but I think it might be a good thing. I can remember my parents and even grandparents sharing stories of past girlfriends/boyfriends and the husband/wife laughing and slandering along with them. So maybe it is a sign of total contentment and security. Or maybe it is my inner female dog finally getting a chance to run around for a brief moment in time.

Hello Again

I am back, I didn't plan on having a break as such it just happened that way. Last week I was coming off medication and starting a new one and as such my health was my only focus and I removed myself from everything else but now I am ready to get back to reality again and catch up on all my blog reading for the last 2 weeks.

So last week began with 4 days of no meds at all, and I did amazingly well, I was given some other medication to take if I needed it to "take the edge off" but I didn't take any of it. I wanted to just do this the best I could. During those 4 days I felt brilliant, I felt clear headed, calm, happy and I felt like I was myself again, a feeling I haven't had for about 4 years, but I didn't even know I was missing it until I was off the meds. I thought that perhaps I didn't even need the new meds, however I decided to follow the Dr's orders, and on Thursday take the half does of the new stuff.

Within an hour of taking it the side effects began and I had a very nasty reaction to it. I experienced every side effect there was, nausea, hot and cold sweats, awake and sleepy, happy and sad, twitching, heart beat racing, heart beat slowing, confused, feeling like I was burning up. Everything. I went to the Dr the next day who informed me that I was ok, but I was bordering on the danger zone (what the?). So no more new meds for me.

The pic above is of my bedside table, and look, there is no medication on it (aside from the asthma preventor), yes I am now officially med free!! YAY!!!! Dream achieved! It is surprising, but once I came off them I was just better, even The Boy was amazed at how great I was doing, and he took time off to look after me and everything. I feel alive, I feel awake, I feel happy and I feel calm and I feel like I have so much to look forward to now. I always wanted to get off them, I just didn't think it would be now. I suppose that is the thing about dreams and life, often your timeline is way off from the way things are supposed to be. I have definitely learnt from now on to just trust the process and that everything will happen when it should. It has only been in the last month or so that I have mentally and emotionally been ready to make this change and I couldn't be happier.

Of course life is not a bed of roses. It will take about 4 weeks for the side effects of withdrawal to disappear. I am experiencing nausea, fatigue, mild insomnia & flu-like symptoms, which is all pretty standard for coming off meds and the Dr has told me I will start to feel better in about a month's time. I can live with that. My Dr is surprised and happy and my Shrink is happy too, she told me she thought last time I was ready for it. Both of them said they were proud of me, and I need to look at myself and be proud to and actually acknowledge all of the hard work I have put in the last few years to reach this point in my life. This was no accident, I did everything right and it paid off.

I feel this is the start of a new phase in my life, I feel now that I can continue on my journey and live life to the fullest. After a month or so when I am feeling better I can put my energy into my other dreams and keep on riding this wave. To celebrate this occasion I went to the hairdresser on the weekend and went from blonde to brunette. A physical transformation to complete the internal one. Life is beautiful.