It comes down to trust

It’s about trust. I’m starting to get some trust back and it’s making me think that perhaps I am far too trusting. I don’t question enough and perhaps I’m a little too easy going, willing to just go with the flow.

I’m trying to get things sorted before I go away, which included getting a pap smear. No biggie, we’ve all got to get them and it’s a part of being a grown woman, an ‘adult’. My GP suggested the Compass Trial; I fell in the right range to take part, meaning that there would be an extra test and if all was well, then I’d likely only have to get checked every five years instead of every two. I wasn’t going to be out of pocket, so I told her I’d go for it.

Well, last week I had a missed call from the doctor’s office and then a text message asking me to call them to make an appointment. I made the appointment and confirmed that my GP did request to see me, even though she had told me that the results are usually mailed out.

I called mum and a letter had arrived there due to my mail redirection. She read it out, and it said there was something out of the ordinary in the results and to make an appointment. It also included a brochure with further information. I didn’t really take it all in. Mum said that she’s had similar results before and it just meant that she had to go back in twelve months, rather than wait the two years.

So I had the appointment and had a vague idea of what my doctor would say. One set of results was fine, but there had been changes since my last test and indicated the presence of high-risk HPV DNA types. However, it wasn’t 16/18, which is the bad high risk. I need to go back in twelve months and was told that things will likely resolve itself. If this eventuates into cancer, it’s very slow moving and can be treated.

She mentioned a lot of other things which I didn’t really take in, something about there being an infection, but it not being classified as an STD, even though it is sexually transmitted, that treatment can include removing some of the cervix and then she said some other things. Again, not a lot sunk in. I think this can be quite serious, but at the time I was putting my trust in her when she was telling me that I’m okay and it shouldn’t be anything to worry about.

I was a little nervous in the lead up to the appointment, I mentioned to Rachael that I had to go in for a follow up, and she was quite casual about it so I kind of clung to that. I did feel out of sorts a little after the appointment and mentioned a little of it to Alison. I just wanted to talk about it. But it just wasn’t quite right.

It’s been hovering at the back of my mind since. I’m just not understanding enough, but am trusting that it will all be fine. Thankfully I’m seeing Manda on Friday. I can talk to Manda about anything.

My doctor also saying about it being sexually transmitted; I’ll admit, I am truly naïve about all of this. That’s why I see professionals. It’s all on them, they tell me what to do or what to worry about. But then I’m also thinking that this is because of Gary. He’s the only one I’ve had unprotected sex with, so this is on him. I trusted him and look where it got me.

I’m sure this will be fine. It’s all procedure and why we get regular check-ups. But what else can be thrown at me? Just as I was starting to feel positive, actually feel happy and looking forward to a great future, this comes up. I did ask if the miscarriage could have lead to any of this, but no. Fertility won’t be affected, so really, there’s nothing to worry about. I just need to trust my doctor.

I do trust her. I just don’t trust me. I trust everyone else, quickly, easily and with few questions asked. Gary asked me a few times if I trusted him, to which I responded yes each time. He seemed surprised, asked if I thought he could physically hurt me (looking back now, that is quite odd and a warning sign). I told him that he would have been capable of it, but I trusted that he wouldn’t, otherwise I wouldn’t have allowed him to move in nor would I have been with him.

Talking with Fiona last week, she mentioned how I am quick to forgive. I did forgive Gary very quickly after he doubted me and after he abandoned me when I needed him most. I need to question things more. If I’m not sure of something or really can’t take it in, I need to slow down and ask questions. I’ve always known that I don’t ask enough questions at the time – I’ve really only thought about it from a work perspective, interviews etc. I worked on that and when going into meetings or on calls, I have questions on the go. Why haven’t I done that in my personal life? I trust quickly and easily. I need to question more and allow time for trust to be built.

I do need to be more stringent with who and what I trust. Of course, I’ve been seeing my GP for two years now and am comfortable with her, she is absolutely someone that I can and should trust. But that doesn’t mean I shouldn’t ask more questions. I need to stop being so willing to accept things and move on. A lot in life really is about trust, giving and taking it. Trust is precious and deserves to be questioned. It’s not bad to trust, but be sure that you trust the right people.

I’ve got some work to do with trusting myself. This trip will help me do that; I’ll have no one but myself to trust and rely on. I don’t need to question myself any further though – I am looking out for me and my best interests. I can and will trust myself.

It’s all a bit surreal

Surreal is the word of the week I’ve decided. I finished work and it hasn’t completely sunk in yet. I had farewell drinks with friends last night and it didn’t seem entirely real that these people showed up to see me. I’ve been staying at Alison’s for the past two weeks and it doesn’t feel like I’ve moved out of anywhere.

Jess arranged a farewell morning tea for me and another lady who was finishing up at the same time. There were flowers, cards, a gift card and speeches. Anush said some lovely things about me and it got overwhelming again. This is the first job I’ve left where I wasn’t 100% sure that I was doing the right thing. I still haven’t been able to bring myself to read the cards yet.

I’ve mentioned before how I was only at this workplace for six months, and I was given all of the above. I was at my previous workplace for eight and a half years and was given nothing except a fake hug from HR on my departure.

I went through a formal – yet apparently casual – exit interview here with HR and sat down with Anush for some feedback. It was nice to be told that I did a great job and helped him immensely, and again have him say that I can still change my mind. At my previous job, I was emailed a link to a monkey survey for an exit interview. There was nothing personalised about it and I received no feedback at all.

Catching up with friends last night, most of them amazing people whom I used to work with, I’ve realised that I am still very much not over the circumstances that led to my leaving. There is still so much bitterness inside me about what they did to me, didn’t do to me and how I was treated. I want so hard to move on, yet that bitterness just won’t go away. I physically cringe and squeeze up when two particular names are mentioned.

The complete differences with how my leaving both of my jobs was handled shows a true reflection of the companies I worked for and was not a reflection on me. I was the same person with the same values at both places. The circumstances and emotions are a reflection on them, not on me.

At my morning tea, I did say that it was a truly difficult decision for me to leave, but I had to do what was right for me personally. I commented how it was the people that were there, how the company treated their people and how quickly I fit into the team that really made me struggle. The job itself wasn’t difficult, and in the long run wouldn’t have presented enough of a challenge for me to be there super long-term, but it did help me in a time of need and showed me that there is true goodness and appreciation out there – you just need to find and be open to it.

I posted on Facebook my appreciation of the gifts I was given on Wednesday and one of the ladies from work commented that you get what you give out, and I had given out “respect, kindness and fantastic good humour”. I’m starting to feel more positive about my life path and myself again. I’m not going to let these comments go to my head, but they are certainly reassuring. I am a good person and I deserve good things. I deserve to be treated in the way that I treat others, and those three traits are extremely important to me. All I have ever wanted was respect, kindness and of course a bit of fun.

I’m still nervous about my trip, about spending all of my savings and being truly by myself. But I’m also really looking forward to it. I’m not putting any pressure on myself to do set things or achieve greatness. I’m going on a holiday, I’m going to find me and I’m going to learn some more about the world.

The week started off surreal, but that’s fading now. Things are very real and things are good. When I get back, I’ll assess if I take any action for my previous job but there’s no rush or pressure now. When I get back, I’ll see my wonderful friends – far more than I’d realised I had – and family and enjoy myself. Savings are there to be spent and as someone said last night, you never regret going on a holiday.

Life isn’t surreal. It’s real and here to be enjoyed.

Respect, kindness and fantastic good humour

A chapter ends

I finished a chapter last week. I allowed myself to have a moment, then a longer moment afterwards. Last weekend saw my life end up in a storage unit while an apartment full of memories was handed over.

I cried more in that apartment over the last 6 or so months than I’ve cried anywhere else throughout my entire life. I absolutely loved that apartment. It was clean, modern and bright. It was me. I fell in love in that apartment, I got engaged while living there, and I fell pregnant there. I also had my heart broken to pieces there. I was sad to let it go and walk away, but it had to be done.

Moving out in the end wasn’t a choice; it was forced upon me. But I was still nervous about it. Still not sure that overall I was (am) doing the right thing. The doubts are getting less now, but they still make their presence known.

I sat down on the floor by the kitchen last Sunday afternoon and let the tears flow. I’d fought them the day before when Emma and the kids were there, but I needed to have them. So I let them flow. I told myself that this was simply a chapter ending, not the final ending. My next chapter is about to start, and it’s going to be epic.

When telling Fiona that I had a cry, I told her how I was self-soothing and not beating myself up for crying – quite the accomplishment from a few months ago – I also mentioned that I had cried more there than anywhere else.

She asked me why I had cried there, was it about Gary, about the baby, about the apartment? I had to pause and really think about it. I knew I was sad, but not sure what I was specifically sad about. It was all built up into one big sadness. As great as the apartment was, I didn’t utilise it enough, I rarely had friends over and as amazing as the balcony was, I almost never sat outside.

I had allowed myself to get completely caught up in a life with Gary, a life that was – in hindsight – never going to eventuate or last. I loved having him there, making dinner and lunch and going out. But I had made my life about him and what we would do next. I didn’t spend enough time with my friends; I didn’t have them visit anywhere near enough. There aren’t enough memories of my girls in that apartment.

This was a chapter that needed to end. Last weekend was emotionally and physically draining and again, I wanted to do it all on my own. I did argue with myself about asking dad for help, but in the end, I desperately needed it.

My friends are amazing creatures. None of them would hesitate, or have hesitated, when I’ve needed them. I’m not sure why I don’t ask for more, I’m always offering myself and doing what I can. Why don’t I do the same in reverse? Exposing my vulnerabilities only makes me human. My friends are human, so why can’t I be?

I have three days left at work. Jess gives me an angry stare whenever I mention the countdown; she’s grown attached to me. My time there has been exactly what I needed for this period. Jess and Rachael are so beautiful and I am so glad to have met them. So quickly we became friends and their support and genuine care for me has been unexpected, yet so appreciated.

I’m looking forward to Wednesday, but also dreading it a little. As I joked to Jess, it’s the last time I’m getting paid. But finishing work will mark a further ending in this chapter. While this next chapter will be epic and fun and exciting and full of the world, it is still quite daunting to turn that page.

Overwhelmed at making me

Overwhelmed. That’s my emotional state at the moment. I have a million questions running through my mind and it seems there are very few answers.

I’ve provided notice at work; I’ve got a moving truck booked and a storage unit confirmed; I’ve arranged for my electricity to be cut off and I’ve made the public announcement that I’m off travelling. My car and contents insurance have changed and internet is cut off. My apartment is about half packed and I’ve got lots of stuff ready to be given to charity. Yet I feel as though I’ve achieved nothing.

The majority of people have been supportive and encouraging of my travelling; only a few haven’t been. I’m trying hard to focus on the positivity and encouragement, but there is still the little – though quite loud – voice inside my head that wants to focus on the naysayers, the doubters, and the ones who question what I’m doing.

Dad asked me last week if I was doing the right thing; I said I simply didn’t know. Lili from work said she didn’t think she could do it, and asked why I was. I said I need to get away, I’ve had a rough year and I need a change. She asked if I was travelling to find love – by travelling I’m just making the geographic space larger and therefore making it harder to find. I’m not travelling to find love.

Why am I travelling? I’ve just had a call with Gary and these questions came up. He still thinks I should get my British passport so I can go to Europe, work and travel so as to not spend my money and come home with funds available. He then asked why I’d given notice at work, especially since I don’t have anything booked yet, don’t have set plans or know what I want to do.

I told him that I can’t be here in February. He asked why and I said that was/is the due date. It took him a few seconds, but he cottoned on that the timeline is due to the miscarriage. Our call got disconnected shortly after and he’s just messaged me to say that I need to be around family at a difficult time and that if I’m travelling because of the miscarriage then I’m travelling for the wrong reasons.

This has all crossed my mind and is of course adding to me being overwhelmed. Why am I travelling? Will this help me in any way? What am I hoping to achieve? Am I travelling for the right reasons?

I’ve just responded and told him that the timeline for February is because of the miscarriage, but that isn’t the reason for me travelling. I don’t feel I have the support I need from my family to get me through this, no one understands how this has and is affecting me. Mum told me a while ago to just stop thinking about the timeline, simply forget about it. Dad just wants to hurt Gary for hurting me, Donna and I don’t have that sort of relationship, and when we saw each other for Christmas, she gave me a hug – for her, not for me. I said I couldn’t do it, and she said she needed to do it. Emma has been great; she’s said the right things, let me go on and listened, hasn’t dismissed what I’m feeling or judged me for it. But she’s going through her own stuff and needs to deal with that.

I finished off telling Gary that I am sad, lonely and depressed. I can’t keep doing the same thing and expect a different result. During our call I told him that I wasn’t me right now, I hated who I am currently and I hate feeling depressed, crying at the drop of a hat and simply not being ‘me’.

I’ve never been one to ask for help. I do things on my own and don’t want to be a burden on anyone. I guess I feel like I have to prove to myself that I can do things alone, that I don’t need anyone else. But deep down, I don’t want to be alone; I don’t want to have to do things by myself. I want someone to share my life with, someone to do things with and someone who will be there to help – without me having to ask them.

When saying bye to my Aunty Elaine at our family Christmas party, I told her I was off travelling this year. She said that she thought this year was for making a baby. I responded that this year was for making me. I’ve clung to that since, waiting for the words to come so I can write about ‘making me’. When I retold this to Megan and Alison, Megan immediately started a cheers and we chinked our sangrias. That was the impact I was hoping for from a simple ‘making me’. It’s fallen short since.

There are times when I feel a big twinge of excitement at travelling, the thought of seeing and experiencing somewhere new. There is so much to see of this world and I’ve seen so little of it lately. I need to hold on to these moments, make them last and remember them. I can do this; I will do this.

The next few weeks won’t be easy, but it will get easier. I will tick off a few items on my to do list and I’ll know that I’ve achieved something. Things will happen. I may still cry at the drop of a hat, and you know what, that’s fine. It means I’m alive and feeling.

If making me involves getting overwhelmed at times, then so be it. I’ll get overwhelmed. I’ll feel nervous and scared. But that will pass and with each achievement, I’ll feel accomplished, happy and excited. That’s how I’ll make me. I’ll turn my overwhelming negativity and uncertainty into overwhelming positivity and opportunity.

In 2017, I will make me.

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Falling to place

Things are falling into place. Not all things, but some things. I’ve given official notice at work, I’ve got a storage cage booked, a moving company arranged and given my estate agent notice to move out. I’m house-sitting at Alison’s then hanging around a little longer and I’ve got going away drinks booked in.

Now to actually get a flight booked, book a hostel and arrange a visa for Vietnam. Figure out where to go, what to do and when to do it. Just the small things left to go really.

Dad came round this afternoon to take some of my stuff, they’ve taken my dining table and chairs and now even my spare bed. He asked me if I was doing the right thing. I’d actually been dreading him coming, even though I needed my stuff gone. I don’t know if it is with me or them, but I’m really struggling to talk to mum, dad and Donna. I have no issues talking to anyone else, but those three; I just freeze up and go numb.

I told dad that I didn’t know. I don’t know if I’m doing the right thing. Am I throwing away my life, my stability, my house deposit all for nothing? Am I just running away and hoping that a change of scenery will result in a change of life, mindset and prospects? I really don’t know. I do know that I can’t stay here any longer.

As I was leaving mum and dad’s after Christmas, dad and I were alone briefly. He started off by saying he didn’t know if he should say something (hint – if you’re not sure if you should say something, you probably shouldn’t), but he’d go ahead anyway. He asked if I was travelling to meet up with Gary. He said he knew we were still close (not sure how he knows / why he thinks that). I turned myself off again and tried to go numb. I said that I was going to Asia, Gary was in New Zealand and I was actually trying to convince him to go back to England. We left if there and I drove off.

I actually really enjoy talking to Gary, keeping in touch with him. He’s still someone that I feel I’m more honest and open with than most others. I don’t try and pretend with him, if I’m down I tell him and move on; if I think he’s being a dick, I’ll tell him. If I need to laugh, I laugh. I do however find it difficult to tell others that I’m in touch with him. Fiona asked me why I still talk to him. I just do. Yes, he broke my heart and spoke to me horribly, but I’m also the most me when I’m speaking with him.

Anyway, the frustrating thing with dad asking if I was travelling for Gary was the lack of consideration for everything else I’ve been through. Yes, Gary’s played a part in my depression and need for a change, but the biggest thing affecting me now is the miscarriage. I still so desperately want to be a mum and I was, for seven weeks. And had this gone through, I’d be giving birth next month. I can’t be here, in this apartment, alone, next month.

For a family that is so apparently across depression, they sure are clueless about it and how to help others who are suffering. Even today, dad brings up other stuff to do with others. I’m barely able to cope with me and my own emotions, he should be able to see this, yet he still brings up other things. Not only does he bring them up, but he does so knowing that I don’t want to deal with them or hear about them. He again starts off with ‘I know you don’t want to know…’

I’ve always been someone who lets the little things get to me; I let them pile up until I can’t take it anymore. I’m working on not letting the little things get to me, either moving on or addressing them at the time. But with mum and dad, I just can’t. I still expect them to know or at least have a think about how things may be making me feel and to allow me to think about only me for a bit.

So yes, I’m running away. No, I don’t know if this is the right thing. But I am going. I’m getting away. Away from what should be happening in February, away from the loneliness, away from my family. Away from me. Things are starting to falling into place. Not everything, but some things. I need to keep on this track and allow other things to fall into place.

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