Hopeless

Hopeless romantics scare me. Have you never been scarred from love? Please tell me what that is like if you are a hopeless romantic.

What does hopeless romantic even mean?

Since giving in to the love I feel for GG and accepting that I am loved and in love, I’ve been in a very sappy mood.

I’m daydreaming a bit more often, I’m seeing couples for the first time in ages and smiling at PDA’s instead of cringing. I’m lying on the sofa or in bed wishing that GG was with me on the nights I’m alone, and telling him so (I don’t ordinarily, because I’m a strong independent woman who doesn’t need a man). My independence has dive-bombed and I’m now looking ahead on how I can fill my free days with GG, planning dates and fun things to do, or just deciding to chill and eat some food before getting an early night. It is close to 8 months, yet the bedroom antics are as wild as ever.

I’m a firm believer that if a guy tells you he loves you after sex or alcohol, you have to give him the benefit of the doubt. That oxytocin has us all messed up.

GG and I have just spent the best part of a week with my son on the English coast. We’ve been camping. One night, after a particularly dirty bedroom session (I really can’t go into detail, because our sex life can be rather twisted and I am honestly ashamed of myself, but not so ashamed that I won’t do it again, you feel me?) GG says ‘ I fucking love you’.

It wasn’t immediately afterwards, and GG has been telling me he loves me for at least a month, so I allowed it. I replied ‘oh yeah? I love you more’. It was as simple and straight forward as that, but in the moment I said it, after nearly a week of watching him playing and supporting my son, hearing their laughter and seeing him nurture him, I couldn’t hold it in. It might also have been the oxytocin you see, but when I woke up the next day, I knew I’d meant it. As we packed all our stuff away and loaded the car and van up with our gear, me returning home and GG off to visit some friends to do some more camping, I did not want to say goodbye. I hugged him and I didn’t want to let go. I kissed him and I didn’t want to stop.

So, what is a hopeless romantic? Can a love cynic be turned? Because I think ya gal right here, miss independent pants who doesn’t need a man, who won’t give up her free time, who thinks the Menz are dogs and they deserve nothing, is becoming one.

Crazy Train pt4

Is there a Goldilocks zone for telling someone you love them? Too early and it’s just weird. Too late? Well, that’s my question. Can telling somebody that you love them ever be too late?

Please see Crazy Train Pt1 Crazy Train Pt2 and Crazy Train Pt3 for further context

GG told me he loved me on 11th July. That’s a month ago.

I still haven’t said those words to him. Partly because as you all know, ima but if a psychotic mess at times and I’m overthinking my feelings for him and I don’t want to say those three little words without meaning them and it doesn’t help when I have temptations thrown in my face and and and.

See all these excuses I’m making?

Truthfully though, what do those three little words even mean anyway if not backed up by actions? And this leads me onto a complaint, a very minor complaint, but still.

Gg fails to send me kisses on his goodnight texts and rarely texts good morning.

Now, in the grand scheme of telling me he loves me, organising weekend trips, making efforts to get to know my son, introducing me to his family, cooking my dinner and doing minor chores for me, you are thinking this is insignificant.

And you would be right. It is insignificant in the grand scheme of all those other things. But it’s the small things that really matter. Because I can do all those big things myself. I’m grateful for when he does them of course, and I appreciate him for those things, but it’s the little things that make the most impact.

Like little ‘post it’s’ randomly left.

Or finding my fave chocolate in the fridge

Or picking up those rare crisps you love that hardly anywhere sells

Or randomly sending me breakfast when I’m working at home and have a ton of stuff to do

Folding my laundry (I cannot explain just how much I despise this task)

Send good night and good morning texts. With Xx’s

Back scratches and tickles.

These are all things I have done or do for GG. And are worth way more than the three words ‘I love you’

And I know words of affirmation are some peoples love language. But it’s not mine. And it’s not GG’s.

I guess the thoughtfulness that was there in the beginning has started to wear off.

I wouldn’t mind but we haven’t even had an argument. 8 months!! This makes me suspicious…because it usually means he’s a bottler. The silent treatment type. The passive aggressive.

I had 13 years of it and let me tell you, it’s worse than yelling.

The crazy train continues….

Give me strength

Next Friday is going to be the biggest test of my life. All of the hard work I have put in trying to heal myself and make better choices in dating and follow the peace instead of the chaos and to not self sabotage and just go with what feels good, not with what feels exciting. It will be the ultimate finale on what feels like a long journey through self-love, self-acceptance and self-discipline. It will see me pitted against temptation and influence, the evils of sin. Like King Leonidas vs the Persian God King Xerxes, I will be leading the fight for all single women, kicking temptation into a hole, after exclaiming ‘This is Sparta’

Ok I’m getting carried away. Definitely over exaggerating. Ish.

I have a works do. An evening to finally celebrate retirements with those who have left us over the past 18 months. England has lifted almost all of its COVID measures to allow the world to start getting back to normal.

Which means laughter, dancing and booze. And Mr Big!

We have been working with each a bit over the last few weeks and all has been well. I’ve banished all romantic thoughts and feelings for him. And we have gotten along as we normally do, friendly, professional with the odd dirty joke thrown in for good measure.

So I wasn’t worried about the works do.

Until he said ‘you’re gonna be there Friday?’

‘Friday?’

‘Yeah, the leavers do’

‘Sure am’

And then he looks me up and down, maintains eye contact for just a second too long, throws me a wink and smiles!!!!!!!

Motherfucker.

Now, I’m not weak willed. In fact I’m bloody stubborn. Too stubborn.

I raised an eyebrow to him as he kicked the door open and said goodbye.

But if this mofo thinks for one minute he’s gonna be flirting with me on this evening and giving me fancy vibes and loving on me, then he has another thing coming. Let me tell ya!

But boozy me? Oh she’s not stubborn at all. She’s loving. And soft. And influential.

She’s the romancer, she’s the one who lets her guard down. She’s the chancer, the adventurer, the rebel too. She has no inhibitions, she’ll dance on tables, cuddle people, she’s touchy feely.

So for the past two days, I’ve been having an internal dialogue with myself

‘We want different things’

‘We work together’

‘He’s had his chance’

‘You have a boyfriend’

in the hope that when boozy me decides to show up, they will be firmly planted in her mind should Mr Big try anything ungentlemanly.

Of course, the easiest thing to do would be to take my boyfriend. Except, he’s on a stag do. Far away.

I could just not go? Not even an option.

I could not drink? Please.

Nope, I’m holding onto the fact I have grown and however thin that line maybe be, I’m confident I will not break it and undo all the lessons I have been learning.

I will not. I will not. I will not.

I’m back…I think

3 years ago, I found myself swallowed by a big black hole. I was numb. I was exhausted. I woke up one Friday morning and I could not move. It wasn’t because I was paralysed physically, but mentally and emotionally I was broken.

I’ve suffered with anxiety as far back as I can remember. I have stubby fingernails and some pretty crazy actions, borne out of overthinking, that pay testament to that fact. But after a break up, a new home, a new job, finding my feet with single parenting and the loss of my beloved dog Rosie, the cracks in my toughened exterior finally shattered into a million pieces.

I rang the doctor. I had no idea why I was feeling the way I was but after a 20 minute chat, the doctor simply said…it’s not an anxiety attack you are having. You are depressed.

For the first time in a long time I cried. I cried and cried and cried and cried. I struggled to breathe through the sobs as the reality dawned on me that my brilliant astute brain and my inner strength had finally given up on me.

Of course they hadn’t given up. Simply put, my mind and body forced me into facing my reality that I cannot lunge myself into all manner of exciting things as a way of dealing with what was going on inside.

I was hurt. I was sad. I was carrying a heavy guilt. I felt like a burden on my friends and family and rather than face that head on, I simply ignored it and went on with life. I was fixing a broken heart. I hadn’t felt loved in a long time, nor did I think I was deserving of it.

At the very same time, I had met a guy. He was nicknamed Super Mark because he had done all these incredible things. He had such an amazing life story. Things were moving rapidly, but when I woke up on that Friday morning I had no idea how I was going to tell him.

He knew I was off work. And one night on the phone he asked me if I struggled with depression. No, I answered. He responded softly saying ‘I have you know. I’ve been depressed to the point of suicide. I know from experience that the only way to start healing is to talk’.

In that moment, everything I had been holding in came tumbling out. I have no idea how long I was on the phone for. He patiently listened to me pour my little heart out. I have no idea if he was listening really, but I sensed he was from his mmm’s and aah’s and awww’s.

By the time I finished, he simply said ‘this is a chapter in your life. You won’t feel like this forever, just for now. Do you feel better?’

It dawned on me in that moment that by talking and getting everything off my chest, I felt a sense of relief. I wasn’t ‘fixed’. I had simply opened the door into healing.

And the mad thing about it, was that afterwards, Mark didn’t run a mile. He chose to love me instead and gave me a wonderful 8 months. That is until I found out he told my Dad that my mum was fit and how much fun it would be to have me and her together.

(Which is proof that even the good guys can be grade A fucking dickheads)

I digress. Back to healing.

I started therapy and working on doing things that made me happy. That’s how I got into football coaching. And how I got back to my hiking. I started budgeting properly and planning days out to the beach. I discovered hypnosis and meditation. Eventually, although it took a while, I found writing again.

Reflecting on the last two months, despite the wonderful things I have been experiencing, I have definitely fallen backwards a little. Depression isn’t ever fully resolved. It’s a constant battle of forgiving yourself. Forgiving the feels. Forgiving people. And in my case, speaking your truth. And after the year we have had, being confined to my own four walls, it’s amazing that I didn’t slip sooner.

I injured my foot and broke my big toe at the end of March, which stopped my usual exercise routine in its tracks. I was able to walk so I still hiked a little. And I managed to limp around the football field twice a week, there really isn’t much running in coaching thankfully. But it delayed my progress.

Last weekend though, I climbed 5 mountains (not as dramatic as it sounds. Actually it was, because it was hot as fucking hell in England) and since then I have been doing my 15 minute hiit or dance workouts. The result is I am happier. Less fatigued. More motivated. I’ve found myself singing again, to the point people have commented. I’m dancing as I walk and shop and talk. My mood is just way more upbeat. I don’t feel like writing is a chore (sorry for that), I’m doing the washing again. The plates are no longer stacked high.

I’m not saying that exercise alone fends of depression, but I’m a pretty good example if it does.

So next time I go AWOL, please, somebody shout at me to dance round the living room for 15 minutes and all will be well again.

Peace out mofo’s!

Crazy Train Pt3

‘When love is not madness, it is not love’

How much do you guys agree with this statement?

I’m not sure. I’ve had loves that have their own kind of madness. Not all of these loves have resulted in a relationship. I’ve loved people from afar. And I’ve been in relationships that have been all-consuming.

The all-consuming loves bring excitement and electricity and wonder and yearning and desire and and and.

But my most successful loves (despite them ending, because life happens) have not been all-consuming. They are steady. And secure. They are peaceful, low energy. Safe.

But I’m not the kind of person who would be satisfied by that for an entire life. I need the adventure and excitement like I need my next breath.

I love GG. I haven’t told him. I’m scared that I recognise that the relationship we have, as wonderful as it is, does not fulfil me in adventure and excitement.

It’s really hard to change habits you know. Self sabotage when it has been life-long is a tricky one to curb. My head knows that what we have together is beautiful. Im grateful for it. It’s peaceful. And lord knows after the up and down few years of dating I’ve had, peaceful is what I need.

My head also knows I love him. But my heart and my body just isn’t catching up. I’m logical by nature. My head always overrules my emotions and in most cases that is the right way to approach things. I think?

But how do you will the heart and body along.

I’m comparing again, and I know I shouldn’t. And this is a moot point because neither happened. But how would I be feeling today if this 7 month relationship had been with either FD or Mr Big? Would I even be questioning my feelings?

A big fat NOPE!

So why am I doing it with GG? It’s unfair. I’m unfair. I’m being unfair.

And I can’t be sure I’m looking for reasons here, I’m almost drawing up a pro’s and cons list which is also unfair. I mean, I’d feel pretty shit if it was the other way round, but considering all of the amazing qualities of GG, there really are very few bad bits. Except….there’s a distinct lack of spontaneity. And it’s the spontaneity that I think the quote at the start of this blog refers to. Not crazy in love; I’m not talking about the love that makes you wonder if they are into you. Where they are. Who they are with. The double/triple/quadruple texts. I’m talking about the madness that makes people elope to far away places for shotgun weddings. The madness that makes people vulnerable to being hurt when they’ve not allowed it before. The madness of riding 100 down a motorway with wind in your hair and 1200CC’s between your legs (a motorbike metaphor). The madness of wanting to rip each other’s clothes off at any given moment.

Is it really too much to want to be slammed over the kitchen side whilst I’m making toad-in-the-hole?

Just wouldn’t cross GG’s mind even though it does mine. And I tell him. Often.

The struggle (even though it shouldn’t exist) continues…

Crazy Train Pt2

It’s dark. GG is drunk.

I’m already reeling from the introspection of the last 3 seconds before he finally blurts out what I have been sensing and therefore trying to sabotage for the last few weeks.

I don’t respond immediately. Aside from the fact I’ve just taken a moment to reflect and accurately recognise my selfish behaviour, I’m also conscious that GG is feeling 9 beers brave.

‘Oh, you feeling brave tonight. Is that because of the beer?’ I ask.

Yeah, I’ve been wanting to tell you for a while, but only now do I have the courage’

‘Hmmm’ i murmur, because I don’t know what else to say. This isn’t a conversation I want to be having at nearly 2am on a Monday morning and I especially don’t want to be having it knowing he is drunk and may not remember too well when we do wake up.

So I kiss him enthusiastically, because regardless of how I feel about all this, knowing somebody loves you is incredible. He doesn’t ask me for an answer or push me for any response in kind and then we drift off, with my arms and legs wrapped around him in what I call the koala bear snuggle.

I open my eyes to the harsh sunlight coming through the windows. I take a peep across the bed and GG is awake. Before me. This is rare.

I smile. He leans over and kisses my forehead saying good morning. I know he’s hungover, so I tell him I’ll go make the tea. With extra sugar.

We spend the morning doing what young couples in love do, showered, made breakfast and watched the rabbit hole that is YouTube. He invites me stay for lunch to meet his friend. And his dad, but I realise I haven’t re-lined the kitty litter and kitty needs feeding so I need to get home.

I can’t decide if this is a brilliant stroke of luck as an excuse to get out of there or if I’ve genuinely got concerns for my cat who has survived 12 whole years, mostly fending for himself. Either way, the cat is allowing me to dodge yet another situation I’m not quite ready for.

But before I leave, I can’t not say anything. Because then I really would be THE worst.

I’ve slept on it. I’ve had all morning to think about how I feel about him.

So I ask ‘are you still feeling 9 beers brave?’

‘How do you mean?’

‘Well, last night you told me you love me. Do you remember?’

‘Yes. And I mean it. I love you’

I smile at him. ‘I’m not very good at being vulnerable and talking about my feelings. But I’m crazy about you and I’m very happy you are in my life. It’s just gonna take me a little while longer’

Crazy Train Pt1

All aboard.

So this week has been a deep dive into a world of vulnerability. Vulnerability that was unexpected and that I was not ready for.

It all started on Tuesday when GG gave me the key to his house. I say key. GG, the big bloody geek, has a digital door lock. The kind that does not need a key, just a fob. Or an app.

Yes. I said an app. I’m not tech-averse, but if it ain’t broken, don’t try fixing it, ya know?

Anyway, I digress. GG handed me the instructions to download said app. I did. I tested it. It worked. I now have unlimited access to his house. His sanctuary. His safe space.

After a few questions about boundaries and when I can and cannot use it (there aren’t any) I said, ‘this is a pretty big deal’. GG said, and I quote ‘we’ve been seeing each other for 6/7 months, I’m ready for this. You don’t have to be, I’m not saying I need a key to yours, but I’m there’.

Then, I had the worlds longest day on Friday, I had to complete a 3 day audit in 1 day. I was at work for well over 12 hours, but I got the job done. I rock up at GG’s house at 11pm to find he has ran me a bubble bath, lit some candles, switched on the diffuser and poured me a glass of wine.

Stay with me here, I’m not finished.

Last night, we watched the Euro Final. With us both being big football fans and knowing the high stakes that came with seeing England in a final, we made a Sunday roast and then settled down to watch the game. Heartache ensued. C’est La Vie. But by the time the game finished, GG had sank 9 bottles of beer. Too distraught from the game, and very drunk, we went to bed. At some point, we found ourselves looking at the clock and it was 1:20am, wayyyyy past my bedtime. Luckily, neither of us have work today. But GG rolls over to me and says ‘can I tell you something?’

Of course, I reply.

And suddenly I know what’s coming and in those spilt seconds, I realise I have been expecting it. The whole last couple of weeks of my own behaviour, the questioning, the overthinking, the sense that something isn’t quite right has just been a subconscious reaction to what was about to happen; to what I was preparing myself to hear. I already knew what was about to spill out of his mouth and have known for a while as he says;

‘I Love You’

Temporary Madness

I’m the worst person in the world. THE worst.

In the same week that GG gave me a key to his house (!!!) and where he had a bubble bath waiting for me with candles after the worlds longest day at work, I decided it would be a good idea to test the waters with Mr Big.

I got the reaction I was expecting, it’s a one way street to casualville. I’m learning that the sooner I speak up, the less likely I am to spiral into overthinking. So now I have my answer.

And I thought about whether it is possible to break habits? My contentment with GG is what is making me happy right now and I should chalk the feelings I have been having over the few weeks as a temporary blip.

Slowly learning to recognise and experience what is a good thing as opposed to just imagining what it should be in my head.

Revelation

Let’s make this quick.

Profound levels of understanding about myself don’t happen very often. But I think, I THINK, that I have stumbled across one.

I will happily go 2, maybe 3 years living the single life, enjoying what it has to offer. But because the men I choose have similar outlooks to me, I tend not to have any deep or meaningful connection with them. Over time this leads to lowering self-esteem and I get to a point where I need validation that I’m worthy of more than sex. Or worth more than an ego boost to these men. So I get to a point where I meet people who are nice and safe who I have to build slow burns with because I’m not immediately attracted to them and therefore I know I can’t get hurt because I won’t have feelings for them.

But by doing it, I have proven myself worthy of being somebody’s girlfriend and thus builds my self-esteem. Then after a few months of re-building, I’m like ‘this isn’t for me’ because I want the passion, the crush, the desire that comes with somebody exciting.

But the exciting ones never want any form of commitment.

This is my pattern.

This is it guys and gals!