Back to miserable

I’m back to feeling just positively miserable. I’m on the verge of tears or actually getting my eyes to well up and I’m just so over it. It seems that my mood last weekend was because of PMS. After all the shit this year, I’m now bloody regular. This month was like freaking clockwork – four weeks on the dot. I was so moody on Tuesday. Nothing was satisfying me and nothing seems to have since.

Tonight was my last pole dance lesson, the end of term. I actually did a climb and a half – the best I’ve done yet. I was finally starting to get out of my head a little tonight and now it’s bloody over. I almost didn’t go; I was running late then while at a traffic light, saw a pregnant lady and my eyes filled. I told myself if I didn’t get a car park straight away I’d just circle back home. Not only did I get a great spot, I nailed the reverse park in two moves. At least that’s something the universe was helping me out with.

But now I’m back home, have my frozen meal in the oven and I’m fucking miserable. There, I’ve said it. I’m fucking miserable. I told Jess today that I was just looking forward to feeling normal again – she assumed I was referencing my PMS. Well, perhaps hormones are playing up on me now, I don’t know. I’ve not really suffered PMS before, I get cramps sometimes, food cravings, but for the most part I feel fine. But this week, holy hell I’m just over it. I just want to feel normal again.

I’ve mentioned Graeme at work before, his wife has just had baby number two and he everyday tells us how tired he is. We laugh at him, tell him he gets a break at work during the day. And today he just announced to me to not have babies at all. Just don’t have them. I know it’s lighthearted and in jest, but while I had thought I was almost over ‘it’, I’m just not. I want to be pregnant. I want to have my own little baby growing inside me. I want Gary and I to be together and I want to be planning a future with him, for our family. Instead, I’m packing up my stuff, moving house, quitting my job and running away.

I said the other day that I want to hibernate for December. It’s usually my favourite month of the year. It has my birthday, it’s the start of summer and it has Christmas. But this year I don’t have anyone to celebrate my birthday with, my family are a bit all over the place and no one is really looking forward to Christmas. I also have to move past the anniversary of when I met Gary. There are far too many memories for me to deal with for December this year. I just want it over and done with. I want to go to sleep on 30 November and wake up on the second of January. I want 2016 to be over and have faith and trust that 2017 will be a good year. I want to wake up refreshed, happy and not miserable.

A friend shared the following on Facebook tonight:

“Be who you were before all that stuff happened that dimmed your fucking shine.”

If I could remember who I was a year ago, I would totally be that person again. I would get my shine back on and be who I was. But I don’t know who that was and I’m a changed person now. I’m broken and I’m on the edge. It’s more than just my shine that’s been dimmed; it’s my hope for a happy future that’s gone. My heart is split and feels irreparable. I think I need to hate him.

I feel alone and abandoned. I feel there isn’t a way for me to un-dim my shine.


Tell me what to do

So, maybe I should just start embracing feeling miserable? I feel good, then I feel down, then I feel okay, then I feel down and for the most, I think really, I just feel miserable.

I miss the times when the feeling good lasted longer and was more frequent than the not feeling good. I miss feeling somewhat in control of my life and knowing what I wanted. I miss not feeling lonely, sad and confused all rolled up into one.

I haven’t cried in awhile. I did shed tears when Gary was here – they just popped up out of nowhere, we were just sitting on the couch chatting and my eyes welled up. I blamed it on onions – just as Gary had the night before. But this whole weekend, I feel like I’ve needed to let myself go and just bawl. Allow huge, gut wrenching sobs to escape my body; feel the tears stream down my face and my stomach clench with each breath I take.

Maybe it wasn’t a good idea to have Gary stay with me that week; perhaps I should have been strong and just agreed to a dinner catch up. I don’t know. It did feel right seeing him, spending that time together. But now that he’s gone (again), I’m feeling worse again. We’ve chatted a few times and we get along fine. But I find myself wanting more and simply not getting it.

I sent him a selfie last weekend, and he responded with ‘You look beautiful Laura ’. I know I looked good, which is why I sent the selfie. But I felt even better getting that response from him. He’s been liking some of my pics on Facebook, so he’s thinking about me at random times. But I need more – and I think I’m likely just setting myself up for something that won’t ever happen.

I told him that I was thinking of up and leaving – travelling and taking some time off. England came up, and me getting my British passport. I said that there was no point going to England, as he wasn’t there. I got a genuine ‘awww’. I brought up New Zealand, tried to put the feelers out there. He said he couldn’t tell me to quit and leave everything here to go over there. Fair enough, that’s a big burden for anyone. While he didn’t shy away from the idea, he also didn’t respond in the way I’d hoped for.

On another call, we were talking about him getting a job and it came up that I’d quite possibly very easily get a job over there. It may not pay huge amounts and won’t be particularly stimulating, but it would be somewhere else. But do I want to do this for me, or for the chance that there could be an ‘us’?

I’m not used to feeling so lost and confused. I want a family, I want my own children and I want to be a mum. But I want so much more right now. I want to be younger so I have ‘time’ to do things; I want love and happiness and self-worth. I want to know what I want.

It would be great if I could get someone else to make my decisions for me. Someone to simply say yes – pack up your things, book a flight and go to NZ. Don’t worry about the money, you’ll earn more. Don’t worry about the future, it will happen, things will work out. Don’t worry about not having kids now – there’s still time.

I hate that I still feel so many responsibilities; that I feel like I should be a true ‘grown up’ and think about things like the future and money and settling down. I know that they say your 30s are the new 20s, but 40 is a lot harder than 30.

I saw my bestie on Tuesday; I brought up spending the week with Gary. I know she didn’t approve, but she didn’t say it, just wanted to ensure that I was okay and not setting myself up for more hurt. I spoke with Emma briefly on Friday as well and again, she too wasn’t impressed. It was T’s birthday yesterday and as I was leaving, I told her I’d spent time with Gary and she didn’t really hold back – said that he only wanted to stay with me so he could have a place to stay, it was more convenience for him to stay with me, didn’t matter that he paid for pretty much everything. It was still all about him.

These three people are incredibly important to me, and they never met Gary. Emma met him once, when we announced our engagement. T and Manda never met him. For such important people in my life, why didn’t they meet the man who I had believed to be my one true love? Was that him or me? He met mum, dad and Donna numerous times and Alison a couple, Mel once. Was I really that much all about him when we were together?

I need to outright ask him the questions. While it may hurt, it will give me closure – closure that I thought I’d obtained when he was here. Some of his values, his victim mentality, his laziness and self-obsession, they all grind on me. When I talk to him these things and others annoy me – I recognize this, yet I still think fondly of him and wonder ‘what if’.

I do need to run away; I’m stuck in a big rut and I need to get out of it. I got rid of some books and clothes last week, now it’s time for me to get rid of more things and evaluate what I need, not just what I want or like having around me, but what I need.

Better yet, someone just tell me what the hell to do and I’ll do it.

To run or not to run…. away

The thing is, I’m now not so sure of what I want. I still have this huge urge inside me to be a mum, to have my own children and bring them up. But I also want … I just don’t know.

Gary asked me why I wanted to be a mum, why I wanted to have kids. I said I didn’t really know, I just knew it inside me. I can’t explain the feeling or the reasoning. It’s just something I have and I know that I so desperately want.

Before he came to stay with me, I asked him to read the letter to my baby post. I think he read other posts as well, which is fine. He told me that reading the blog upset him, but he didn’t elaborate further. I wasn’t too sure if he’d read it, but he did say something about me wanting to have named the baby Lily.

I told him that I was thinking of going ahead with plans to be a mum, go through sperm donor next year. He asked how he could send his stuff over from NZ; pretty much be my donor. I asked if he wanted me to have his kids, to which he said that I almost did. He asked me the same and I responded with the same. We didn’t talk about the baby any further.

I will be honest here and say that I had a deep secret hope inside me that he’d get me pregnant during his visit. I did and do question some of his choices, but he would be a good dad. My cycles haven’t been regular throughout my life, except when on the pill. I was averaging around six to eight-weekly before getting pregnant. But since the miscarriage, I’ve been four to five-weekly. Had I been on the six weekly cycle, when he visited I would have been ovulating, so ripe for making a baby. But that wasn’t the case and instead for our last two nights together, I had my period and I tried to keep the disappointment buried inside me.

Gary did tell me that I do have another ten years to have kids; that I shouldn’t rush into it now. This is what my psychologist is telling me as well. I know this is true, but I also know that it will be harder the older I get and I just don’t want to be an old mum. I want to be able to be physically active with my children; I want to have grandchildren and see them all grow up. But now I am wondering if this is the right thing for me.

Beating alongside my desire to have children is now a growing desire to get out there and do something else. Spend some time on me and perhaps go travelling again. I need to mix things up and experience more again.

I’ve just found out that my landlord is selling the apartment I rent. It may end up being bought by an investor, in which case I have nothing to worry about. But an owner-occupier could buy it, in which case, I would need to move out. This has added to me thinking about change and running away.

The things stopping me are the responsibility I feel to stay here and plan for a stable future; the fear that I won’t get a job when I get back and have to start again from the bottom; the money; the possibility that I just want to do this so I can be with Gary.

I didn’t bring any of this up with Gary, but he did say he’d like me to visit him and he’d like to visit me. He did tell me not to move too far away so he can stay here when he comes over for the Australian Open.

I want to run away so I can forget about everything that’s happened, start afresh and move on. I told Gary so many times that he needed to figure out what he wanted. It turns out that I need to do that. Do I look at getting my British passport and going to Europe, do I go to New Zealand and travel around? Do I pack up my stuff here and just travel Oz for a year? Or do I stick around and hope that I find myself and everything just works out?

The thing is, I’m not sure what I want. Will running away help me figure it out or confuse me further?