One year ago

One year on.

As much as I try not to, I can’t help but say to myself: ‘one year ago I was…’; ‘one year ago this happened…’; ‘one year ago, it all turned to shit’.

Facebook memories don’t help, but as the time was so significant, I remember most of it anyway. Last week was one year ago that I felt a serious inkling that I was pregnant. Friday was one year ago that my suspicions were confirmed. Saturday was one year ago when Gary turned into an arsehole and didn’t believe me at my most vulnerable. Sunday was one year ago when I kicked him out. Last night was one year ago that I spent the night alone for the first time in a long time: lonely, pregnant and scared as hell.

One year ago was when it all started to go down hill. Things had been rocky, but I do think we could have worked through it, figured out a way. But Gary chose to rid us both of that opportunity and let others’ insecurities and bitterness seep into his mind and poison him to what we had.

I’ve been on many a roller coaster since then and I didn’t know if I’d be able to handle any more emotions. It’s coming up to one year ago that I was told my baby didn’t have a heartbeat, that I’d had a ‘missed miscarriage’ and that my options were to take pills, have an invasive procedure or simply wait it out. I was given three choices I never thought I’d have to choose between.

I had my closest friends and family around me, yet I felt truly alone. I had absolutely committed myself to a life with Gary; I was looking forward to being his wife, sharing life’s adventures and challenges together, living in England for a bit, having a family together. Then a challenge arose and rather than work through it together, we went our separate ways.

We’ve obviously been in touch on and off since, as well as in the recent months and weeks. I know things won’t work out; there isn’t even an option or opportunity for it to happen. Yet I still wake up and think about him, walk around and wonder about him, hope that he’s okay. Then I have to forcibly remind myself of the dick that he was, the horrible things he said and did and the little consideration and care he showed.

I keep breaking my own word, and when he messages me, I respond. Or I’ll initiate my own message, just a quick hi, how are things. I can’t stop myself. It’s been a year and I’ve come so far, yet so much of me is still back there.

Mel and I were chatting once, between the kicking out and the loss of heartbeat, when she mentioned she thought I was doing quite well. I was – because while Gary was not at home, I had that little baby inside me. As well as my secret hope that we’d be able to work things out.

One year on, and there is a part of me that wants that, but the bigger part of me, the sensible part knows it can’t. I am a strong, independent woman. I am travelling parts of the world by myself. I am doing things I’ve never done before and I’m surviving, I’m thriving. I’m learning about the world, about different cultures and more than anything, I’m learning about me. I can do more than I ever thought possible. I can trust in my body, in my mind. I can trust in myself.

I’m coming up for five months away now. I’m slowly making plans to head home. I’ll get to my six months, or as close as possible anyway. I really want to go to Africa, so I need to cut down on my spending and give myself the opportunity to earn a few dollars for a few months before heading off again.

What this equals is a year off. I’ll have taken a year out of my life to live my life. Africa will be up to a couple of months, so normal life will resume in January / February. I figure this is fine – things happen at the pace they want to happen. This year and this me time has been much needed. I can only hope that when normal life resumes I’m ready to take it on and the lessons I’m gaining get put into practise.

Everyday I see babies, children and pregnant bellies and still so desperately want this for me. The urge in me to become a mother has not waned. I mentioned to Fiona in one of our last sessions that after things with Gary, I realised I didn’t want to be a single mum, that I wanted a partner. Well, that’s not true. I can be a single mum and I can be an amazing mum. And I will be.

Normal life will resume, but so will my desire and plans to become a mum. That is a dream I will never let go of. The fact that I will most likely be at least 36 when I have my first baby will not faze me. My baby and I will love and deserve each other.

I will never give up on my dreams and hopes – they may change throughout time and adapt to my world, but at the core, they will always be there and they will be achieved.

One year ago I was extremely happy yet nervous; one year ago I was in immense pain yet filled with hope; one year ago I was a different person. Thinking back on one year ago is hard and painful, yet it also shows me how I’ve grown, how I’ve handled challenges.

Things turned to shit a year ago, but I’ve picked myself up and have dedicated time and patience to myself. There can be nothing shit about that.

Confessions

I have a confession to make; I need to be really honest.

Against my better judgement and all echelons of common sense I possess, I continued to converse with him. He is still blocked on messenger and I haven’t become friends with him again – although he did send me a request.

We were emailing. Note ‘were’. I have stopped and deleted… at last.

I think the following morning after I blocked him, I woke up and there was a friend request from him. I deleted it and moved on. Then I get an email from him – ‘why did you block me?’

My immediate reaction was ‘why the hell do you think, dick head?’ Instead, I took time and wrote him an email telling him that I was done. That I couldn’t continue to receive messages from him, that I didn’t deserve any of that and that he was ruining my time away, I would get anxious about seeing a message from him when I got back online. I then attached a pdf of our conversation – which I had titled ‘dick head comments’.

I was brutally honest in there and said I couldn’t keep going on. He needed to move on as he clearly hadn’t and I needed to be free of him. He replied to say that he still loved me, but that there was nothing he could do as I’d made up my mind. I fell for it, and went back to say that if he wants something, he needs to fight for it, not give up on things so easily. If he wanted me, he needed to work hard on it and convince me.

He then sends an email listing what he loved about me and things he didn’t. I responded to each point – being honest all the way. I asked him to elaborate on some points, but he didn’t. He told me about his plans for going to college and other bits and piece and said he liked that I was having a good time. In one email, he asked me if I was sleeping with boys. I deliberately didn’t answer that. If I am sleeping with boys, it has nothing to do with him. As per his dick head comments, he was going out with girls, so why should he care what I’m doing?

I did find that he would come back and talk about non-related items, or tell me more about his circumstances, but he never answered my questions. I asked him if he was actually reading what I’d sent, and if so, why not answering them. Apparently I asked too many questions and it confused him.

He then apologised if any of his comments had upset me. I told him that they had absolutely angered me and I wanted to know where it had all come from. He replied that he was simply in a funny mood. I told him that wasn’t good enough; I needed more. He didn’t answer. I went back again and asked and he then said he’d already elaborated.

Whatever.

That is my last, and final, email to him. I tried to include him in things, provide openings and tell him what my travel plans were and what I’d been up to. Yet he still can’t be honest with me. I am absolutely done.

As much as I feel for him – his dad is having heart surgery and he’s now apparently pursuing the army for hearing loss and PTSD (big jump from not willing to consider an admission of depression) – but I can’t help him. I am no longer required to do so. He alone is responsible for him.

Whatever.

It’s not a word that I like to use, it is too blasé and extremely lacking in respect, but it has to be that way.

I’ll confess that I did keep having wonderings in the back of my head, what if… will he… will I… can we make it work? But I know in my head of heads that we can’t. He needs to be a changed man, and even if he is or does, he won’t be the guy I fell in love with but he will still always be the guy who deserted me, who disrespected me and spoke extremely horribly to me. Why on earth should I hope and wonder about a future with someone like that?

I am trying my best to have an amazing time away and am so far succeeding brilliantly, albeit with the bumps of contact with him. But no more bumps. Not anymore. I don’t wish him or his family any ill will, but I do wish him away from me.

Wow. I think I truly do. He’s not my first love, but he was my first fiancé, my first live in partner and the first to get me pregnant. But he won’t be the last – I deserve better. I will find better. But I’ll only find better once he is away.

I’ll confess something… there’s always going to be a part of me that will want him to suddenly appear out of nowhere and sweep me off my feet.

I’ll confess something else… I’m glad I finally said whatever.

 

 

What am I doing?

I’m currently having a ‘what the hell am I doing here?’ moment. I had an amazing time yesterday, enjoyed the water fight that Thai New Year (Songkran) is known for and even got into it today.

But right now, I’m back at my hostel sitting on my bed and wondering what I’m doing. I booked myself for four nights here in Chiang Mai to ensure I’d be here for all of the New Year festivities (three day experience) and have now booked another four nights at another hostel. I didn’t really know what to expect here, and all I’d really heard about Chiang Mai was to go trekking with the hill tribes.

I’ve since learnt that this is one of the largest cities of Thailand, that Songkran goes especially off here and that there are also lots of elephant sanctuaries, adrenalin activities and cooking classes to do. So, where do I start?

I’ve been pretty good with not getting overwhelmed the past eight weeks and have been taking my time getting to places, finding a vibe I like and sticking with it. I think what happened is that I got too settled in with Tatum. We met in Hanoi, did separate short trips away and then travelled together for a couple of weeks. We’re now heading in different directions and I miss having that company, the familiarity.

Yesterday I caught up with Alex, a guy I used to work with. He’s based in Bangkok but was here for work and extended to be here for New Year. I had so much fun hanging with him, getting into water fights and just chilling. I actually had a couple of surreal moments, where I couldn’t really comprehend that I was in Chiang Mai, Thailand, with Alex whom I used to work with in Melbourne. I was there in the middle of an epic water fight, something that would never happen back home and I was having an amazing time.

Apart from just having the company of a friend, it was nice to have the familiarity of work, him knowing my history there and being able to talk about people without having to explain who was who or the significance. I love spending time with new people, getting to know them and sharing myself, but I’m still quite reserved. With Alex, there was none of that, except for what happened with Gary. He was polite enough to not ask about the engagement break off. When I went back to work last year after getting engaged, he was the first to come and give me a big congratulatory hug.

He did ask why I decided to travel, and I didn’t go into the details, just gave the basic overview: last year was a great year, then a sucky year and then my apartment was put up for sale. I wasn’t hugely engaged with my new job and needed to change things up. Whilst I have told a few people about what happened with Gary, it didn’t seem right to go into that yesterday and I don’t want to dwell on it.

But now, I’m just not quite as happy as I was yesterday. I don’t want to pretend and I don’t really feel up to putting in the effort of being social. This hostel is great and if I were feeling differently I’d absolutely love it. The dorms are awesome, it’s a mini private room within a dorm so I’m getting some privacy and space and the mattress is actually a mattress, rather than a foam pad.

It’s the vibe that I can’t get into. It may be that it’s much more party centric due to Songkran, and I knew that coming in. I tried to engage this morning. I got myself kitted up in my water-gun backpack and joined in the fight with the hostel across the street. I got drenched and succeeded in drenching others. I chatted to a few people, but after a couple of hours, I wasn’t feeling it anymore. Apart from wanting to enjoy myself here, I do want to experience more of the Thai culture and New Year celebrations.

Alex and I spent the afternoon in the main street watching the parade and fighting with the passing tourists and locals, forming alliances and just having a great time. It was so much more interactive. Hostel against hostel and the handful of locals that came through the street just wasn’t right.

So I walked to the main street alone and got shot at, shot at others and enjoyed myself. I was however craving someone to share this with. I always knew that my biggest struggle on this trip was going to be meeting new people and engaging with them. In the end, I didn’t struggle in Vietnam and loved it. I can’t be too hard now; I have only been in Thailand for two nights. But I don’t know. I’m just not feeling it.

I have a lot of buts written through here. I’m good at justifying things, so a but always works well for me. But now, I need to just get out of my head and join in the fun. Get some dinner, come back and start drinking with everyone. Do the tourist-y thing and get hammered in Chiang Mai for Songkran.

What am I doing here? Right now, feeling sorry for myself for not having any friends and not doing anything about it. In the long run, I’m here to have fun and enjoy life and gain any sort of experience that I can. Songkran may be a once in a lifetime experience for me, so I need to get the hell out of my dorm and join the hell in with it.

Stop wondering and just do it. I’m here to travel through it; to work through it. So bloody well do it.

Empowerment

Empowered. That’s me right now. I’m surprised with how clear and empowered I’m currently feeling. I don’t think I’ve actually felt like this before and am wondering why I didn’t do this sooner.

I’ve been feeling at peace since the end of February and having my time on the beach. I still want children and it is taking a lot of self control to not steal every child or baby I see – seriously, the kids here are so freaking cute – but I’m no longer sad or in pain.

Gary has reached out to me a few times and we’ve had some nice enough messages going back and forth, he had said he was sad around 23 February, but I’m not sure if that was genuine or not. I really can’t believe anything he says anymore. I told a few people my ‘sob story’ during my tour. My roomie was the first to find out and she really questioned why I was still in contact with him – she kept asking if I’d unfriended him yet. I was able to finally send her a message this morning and tell her that I’d blocked him and unfriended him. I feel so much better for it.

I’ve been in Hanoi for about two weeks now and have been enjoying some down time, aimlessly wandering and making new friends. Just enjoying the thrill of being away but not being tied down to anything, or being pressured into rushing into something.

Well, a few days ago, Gary once again asked me if I still loved him. I didn’t respond – why should I? Then I went out and had a few drinks, so jokingly sent him the same question. And I’m not sure exactly what happened, but things turned. He was an absolute arsehole. I’m trying to forget everything that he said, but it really came from out of nowhere.

He claimed that he was in pain, and I was insulting him by telling him that he needed to speak with someone about his time in the army and his anxiety. He claimed we was speaking with someone – he was speaking with me. I refuted this, as when I had tried to call him to physically speak, he wouldn’t answer or wouldn’t elaborate and would completely bypass the issue.

Then suddenly, he told me that I was effectively too fat, that I didn’t dress well or care about myself enough. That I didn’t have any pride in myself and it was a turn off. He was scared that if we got married I’d gain five stone and therefore be even fatter. He then proceeded to give me ‘advice’ about looking after myself so that I would be desirable to others in the future, that I’d one day look in the mirror and thank him for giving me this advice.

He told me that I needed to be a princess, that I needed to improve my clothes and do my hair and nails and wear more make up. He then proceeded to insult my sister and think that it was all okay – he was doing this to help me. Apparently when I was trying to lose weight last year, I was doing it wrong. I shouldn’t have been listening to my doctor, nutritionist or exercise physiologist, but rather should have been going to the gym four days a week for an hour each session. I should have listened to him – an uneducated male.

I did point out that we did go to the gym a few times and enjoyed it, however we stopped going together and he in fact stopped going himself. I didn’t point out that at the time we were doing this, I was unknowingly pregnant so anything in regards to my weight would have been difficult to control. I also didn’t point out that I then dropped 10 kilos without even trying.

There was a lot more in relation to that, but it turns out it was quite an issue for him as he had to ‘stick his dick inside me’ and our sex life suffered. Curiously, when I had tried to discuss our sex life, not much was said and he certainly never told me that he found me unattractive or didn’t like sticking his dick inside me. Obviously it wasn’t that much of an issue as he did manage to get me pregnant.

What I am surprised further by is that he was quite nasty, but seemed to genuinely think he was doing me a favour. Had this happened a few months ago, I’d likely be a mess. He chose my biggest insecurity and attacked it, truly attacked it unprovoked. It was also early in the morning for him in his time, so I can’t even blame this on him having a few drinks, like when he’s asked me if I loved him. This all came from nowhere.

I was determined not to get upset and I tried so hard not to stoop and bite back and attack him, but when he insulted my sister, I couldn’t hold back. I went back at him and said he wasn’t top shit, not the best looking and his fashion of tracksuit pants was not suitable for everyday wear. He needed to work on his appearance as well. I did hold myself back from commenting on the sex – from our time together, he did only satisfy me about three times. Sex was all about and for him – shame he had to do it with a fat unfashionable non-princess. Anyway, he simply responded that I raised valid points. He didn’t bite.

Eventually he turns it into a joke and brings up getting married – that he thinks we should go to Vegas and get married. Seriously? After insulting me and my family, he thinks I’d marry him? I told him if he wanted a princess, he’d need to treat a girl like one and make her feel as though he’d stop the earth for her. I said he needed to be happy within himself before he could ever consider making someone else happy.

This did ruin my evening, and I spent the night in the hostel moping around a bit and shed a few tears on my bed. But it wasn’t the insults – I know I’m attractive and what I wear suits me and I look good. I’m comfortable in my own skin – it’s taken me time, but I am who I am and look how I look. But the nastiness – the idea that I was actually in love with someone capable of that and had committed myself to spending my life with him – that made me angry, it upset me immensely. I was and still am deeply confused by this. Where the hell did it all come from?

He then took it further by sending me a couple of my past Facebook profile pictures. One was taken in Kuala Lumpur about eight years ago – he told me that he loved that Laura. I told him he’d never met that Laura, and unsurprisingly in eight years I have aged (also curiously, I was incredibly unfashionable at that time, hadn’t done my hair and wasn’t wearing an ounce of make up). Another picture was of me at my cousin’s wedding, so of course dressed up. I told him that no girl was going to dress up for a wedding every day of her life.

He had said that he was over me and had moved on, had dated a couple of girls and puts them on a test. He gets them a few drinks, and if they flirt with other guys, they aren’t for him. I have no idea where he gets all this from – why test a girl on a first date? Why test her at all? How the hell did I get involved with this?

I did tell him that I would look back and thank him. That I would be thankful that I didn’t marry him, didn’t commit to spending the rest of my life with him and am extremely thankful that he won’t be the father of my children. He simply responded that he’d make a good husband and father one day. I asked him to prove it – and he simply said he would to the right girl – clearly forgetting we were engaged last year. I mean come on, what an absolute dick. How did I fall for this guy???

Then yesterday morning I wake up to another message from him: ‘Good Night Laura x’.

What. The Hell.

He then messages later on to say that we need to move on, he can’t go on like this it’s not healthy. I then remind him he told me had moved on and he had also said he found it easy to let go. I said I had moved on and that I was confused by his contradictions and I wished him well.

I then get a further message saying that he can only get married in Vegas. I chose not to bite and am proud of myself for not. Instead, 24 hours later I decide that my time is better spent than trying to help or understand him. He is not worthy of any more of my time and has already taken up far too much of it. So at breakfast this morning, I blocked him on messenger and unfriended him on Facebook. I feel so much better. No longer will I wait or get anxious about a message coming through from him. I am clear of him. He cannot contact me.

I was chatting to a new friend the other day, after the insulting messages and I said I didn’t know why I was still in contact with him, why I felt that need. What troubled me was that he could turn so nasty. It simply comes down to guys wanting to play games to make themselves feel better. I truly believe that for Gary. He is a lost soul and can only make himself better by blaming his bad choices and circumstances on someone else. He refuses to accept or take any responsibility for what he does to himself and others. And I no longer need to deal with that.

A while ago Fiona mentioned to me that it was an ego thing, me wanting to stay in touch. I didn’t think much about it, but now, yes I see it. It felt nice to think that I was needed and he was reaching out to me. It was nice to know that he hadn’t moved on and was watching my moves. But remove the ego, and I have no responsibility for him. I have no obligation to help him. He needs to help himself. I do not. I have to help myself and only myself. He can go get fucked for all I care now. If he is happy and proud of his actions, then good for him. That is purely a reflection on him and nothing on me. I am better than that and I have so many better things to be doing with my time and much more worthy people to spend my time on and with.

I am travelling at the moment and I am looking after myself. I am making new friends and seeing and experiencing so much more than I could have hoped for. I am a good person and dicks that won’t help themselves will no longer hold me back.

I am an empowered woman and I am strong. I am woman, hear me roar.

Sunrise Welcome

My timing may have been a little off, but I did make it to sunrise this morning. I was so keen to press snooze on the alarm – it was the best sleep I’d had in a week. But this was too important; I couldn’t miss it. I pushed myself through and made the short walk alone to the beach.

It was really quite peaceful. The locals were slowly opening their shops and restaurants ready for the day’s trade, tuk tuk drivers were having a quiet break and workers were collecting rubbish. Early morning really is a different time in the city, country – anywhere really.

I walked along the beach for a bit and found a somewhat secluded spot to sit – with beach side bars and restaurants, there isn’t really a lot of seclusion. I settled myself down, removed my thongs and placed my tissues within easy reach. This wasn’t going to be an easy time.

I got out my phone and found my words; I’m glad I’d written them earlier, otherwise it may have been much harder and certainly less coherent. I read each word out loud and thought of the baby. I allowed the love to flow through me and the peacefulness of the water splashing on the shore to take me away. I didn’t notice the workers behind me or the fisherman getting their boats prepared. I let the colours and clouds in the sky wash over me and allow me to read what I so needed to read.

I captured an image of some clouds facing the sun. The sun rise wasn’t remarkable, it was slightly off to the side and behind me, but these clouds spoke to me. I like to think of this image as the sun welcoming my baby in; shining a bright light on the way, holding them in love and light. The baby is being released by my open hands, both of us embracing the love and light and moving on to the next chapter.

I waited for the clouds to fully dissipate, however a young local girl came and approached me. I was a little nervous, unsure if she wanted to chat, to pick-pocket or just to sit. I also wanted this time for me and me alone. She pointed to my tissues and asked for one. I pulled one out and she pulled the layers apart, counting. One, two, three, four. She then bunched them all back up, wiped her nose and threw it away.

She pointed at my phone a couple of times, but I held fast, again not sure. Two other boys came over, one older and younger. The older asked for money, and I said I didn’t have any. They soon left, leaving the girl and I. I asked her name, and she replied ‘Hoy’. She again pointed to my phone and pressed the lock button, revealing the camera shortcut. She wanted a picture. So I took a couple of selfies, pulling silly faces. It was quite sweet, until she then asked ‘miss, one dollar?’ I said I had no money, and she moved on.

I looked back at the sky and the clouds had gone – the representation I’d made and had hoped to see further develop had disappeared. But I felt at peace. Hoy had come along and pulled me back into the real world. While her world is very different to mine, she helped me. I remained grounded and thankful for what I have. She proved to be the perfect distraction.

As I glanced further around I found the sun. It had risen as an amazing orange orb, appearing between the trees to brighten and day and paths ahead. I went through one tissue today and that was used by a young Cambodian girl. I didn’t fill my own with tears again –  I have worked through this. I was filled with reflection and limited sadness today, but I was giving myself permission to move on.

I can now look at the sun and the clouds and know that my baby is up there and looking down on me. As time passes, the physical distance grows, yet there will always be small fluffs of cloud and love to see us never full parted.My path ahead is bright and filled with light.

Release

Due to my travelling, I chose sunrise at the beach to speak out loud the below words:

This period marks an important milestone for me and you. Had another path been chosen I wouldn’t be here where I am and instead, you would be in my arms or soon to be.

I will always wonder, hope and dream for you, but for now, I have come to accept that this wasn’t meant for us.

For the short period you were with me, you had an incredible influence. You certainly left your mark and I know that I have grown and learnt from you. Today I will release you at the time you were meant to enter this physical world. I am not surrounded by close friends or family, but I am surrounded by love; love for you and love from within.

I tell you again that you were absolutely created and made with love. You were absolutely wanted and you were absolutely loved.

I can no longer think about what could or should have been, but can only thank you for your time with me and how you’ve helped me grow and further shape the mother I will be one day.

Gone but not forgotten, today I reach full acceptance and I release you.

Due Date

So I’m a week into my trip and I have started to feel again. I have a way to go, but I now know more than ever that I was meant to be here, to be doing something and experiencing more of this world.

What this does mean is that the time has now arrived for my due date. I had my calendar out a little, and I had thought that I’d be in Sihanoukville for the due date. This worked out perfectly as it’s a beachside town and would have made the perfect setting for a small ritual for me and the baby. However, I will actually be on my way into Vietnam – not a beachside town perfect for reflection, but a hectic border crossing and a homestay where we’ll apparently be playing games.

What I have decided is that the exact date isn’t exact anyway. Based on my last period before falling pregnant, my GP had 22-23 February listed on initial paperwork. As we know, this date was never confirmed so it may have been out. And as happens with babies, they can also choose to come out earlier or later. So, I’m deciding that tomorrow – 21 February – will be my ‘release’ date. I am getting up in time to see the sunrise on the beach and will have my time there.

On the bus today I started writing some words down and will take the time to tweak them as needed while writing them again at the beach; I may even possibly burn the paper. Fiona seemed to think that I needed to do an actual ritual, write something down, release something and really mark the moment when the baby is moved on. I don’t have anything like that planned and from my writing this afternoon, that won’t work for me.

As much as this will be about the baby and me letting go – as much as I possibly can – on their due date, this is about me finally fully accepting it. I’ve written something else that I’ll tweak before posting, which has been titled ‘Acceptance’; that word has been flowing consistently – doggedly – through my mind for the past week. I will never let go of my baby and the pain will always be there, but I’m accepting that this wasn’t right. But tomorrow is about releasing.

I’m nervous about tomorrow, about the next couple of days, but I’ll get through it. These past 7 plus months have been about me working through it, and that’s what I’ve done. I’ve worked, cried, written and figured my way through it. Tomorrow is simply another step to help me continue to work through it. I will be fine and the moment will be perfect.

Tomorrow I will release my acceptance into the world, at sunrise on a beach in Cambodia and I will be okay.

It’s time

The time has come. I am currently 40,000 feet in the air, about 2,100kms from Melbourne, a further 5,200kms to Bangkok.

I had so many grand plans and ideas go through my mind to fill in my spare time over the last couple of weeks, yet nothing came to fruition. I was going to do a bit of sightseeing, I was going to finish setting up a new blog for my travels, and I was going to set up a new Facebook page and Instagram account to go with the new blog. I was going to spend time with everyone who mattered. I was going to get super excited about my trip. I was going to get myself sorted.

I managed to get myself sorted. I managed to spend time with many who mattered, but not all. I managed to start feeling a bit better about myself and almost started to feel excited about the trip.

There are moments when I’m looking forward to what I’m about to do, what I’m about to see and whom I’m about to meet. But they are still few and far between. The most emotion I experienced was yesterday afternoon saying bye to Emma and the kids. Jordan (now 8) was very emotional. He didn’t want me to go as he wouldn’t see me for a long time and got a bit teary. I was doing well until seeing his little face, his cheeks and eyes red. I did get through without shedding a tear, but it got close. (I’ve been assured that he was back to his usual happy self this morning – how quickly he forgets!)

The airport drop-off this morning was quick and un-emotional. Mum asked me this morning if I was excited, and I responded that I was a bit numb to be honest. I still am. There isn’t a big burst of emotion going through me. I’m not sure what I am feeling or even what I should be feeling. Nervous is probably the closest and most frequent of my emotions and I really don’t have any reason to be.

I boarded my flight no problems, I sorted the last minute issues with access to my savings, I have my Vietnamese visa and I’m a responsible, mature person. I’ve travelled before and know the main gist of how things go. I’m not as shy as I was ten years ago when I last did independent travel so I should be able to make friends easier and faster. I’ve got nothing to be nervous about.

I guess I’m worried about how I’ll be in two weeks time. Numbness may have set in for self-preservation and may stick around for a while yet. I had my last appointment with Fiona nearly two weeks ago and she signed me off. Told me to have fun and lots of sex. Easier said than done! I’ll try my best but have no promises.

She did ask me again what I had planned for the due date and asked a few questions, prompted me to work on a ritual. Write down some words and release them, along with the life that could have been. All I know is that I’ll be in Sihanoukville in Cambodia, a beachside town and I just want to sit and contemplate. If possible, I’d like to release a lily into the ocean. I hadn’t thought more about the ritual. So now I feel like I should be planning more, or at least feeling more.

I told Emma about releasing a lily, and also mentioned that I might get myself a tattoo. I don’t have any and had never been serious about getting one. But as I still have ‘Lily’ on my mind, I thought it might be nice to get a lily somewhere. I then feel doubtful, apart from now no longer having the option to use Lily for kids I will – will – have in the future, do I want to put a permanent mark on my body for this one loss? What if I have another miscarriage? Will I have to get another flower? Why do I need to put so much emphasis on this baby?

The loss of the baby and the loss of my relationship have been hugely significant for me. Why not mark this with a visual reminder? I won’t have to look back sadly on this, but rather reflect on how I managed to survive and will continue to survive. If I do have another miscarriage, I’ll survive that and can mark that as well.

I am about over my grief. I have somewhat accepted the miscarriage. Of course I still wonder about what may have been. No longer about what should have been. Rather what could have been. The lily can be for survival and hope.

I caught up with Manda a few times – she makes me happy. We just get each other and I was telling her about the afternoon I’d spent with my niece and nephew. Logan asked me if I had a baby in my belly. It came from nowhere – Emma said it was likely due to her sister-in-law being pregnant and her telling them about it. Logan then wanted to give me a bunch of marbles for my kids. I said that I didn’t have any and wouldn’t for a little while yet. He still insisted – we finally managed to convince him to look after them for me until my kids would be old enough.

I didn’t feel sad when Logan talked about my kids. It knocked me a bit, but I coped. Manda reassured me that I will have kids. The day will come and I’ll get those moments. She said it’s bloody hard, but then there are the moments when you wouldn’t have it any other way.

I spent a day with Jodie, Tanya and their daughters. Jodie was about ready to pop with her second baby and I didn’t feel any sadness. I did however sit there and watch the girls, their interactions with each other and their mothers and I just knew deep inside me that I do want that. I will have that. I want and deserve to be a mother and there is a perfect baby out there waiting for me just as I’m waiting for them.

I briefly saw Jodie again last night – she was off to the hospital for final preparations; she was so excited for me and my trip. I was excited for her and her next journey. I did feel myself starting to get emotional, thinking about her going into labour at any moment and bringing a new life into the world. I didn’t experience jealousy, but I did reflect and momentarily wanted that for me in the next two weeks.

As I was leaving, Tanya again asked me how I was, if I was okay. I honestly don’t know. The numbness is getting rather odd. I want to feel, I want to experience big, deep feelings again. I’m glad the deep, gut-wrenching sadness has gone. But I’d like something other than slight anxiety and numbness to replace it.

The time is here. I have left my friends, family and home behind. I have adventure, excitement and travel ahead of me. Perhaps a tattoo, perhaps some love affairs. But definitely some truly me time. I hope I find what I’m looking for. I hope I start to feel again.

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