divorce day 616

and this entry WILL contain spoilers! BEWARE!

and even after all this time, i find it hard occasionally. something with strike an emotional chord or, on the rare occasion, i wake up some mornings with little tiny daggers in my chest after a night filled with unwanted dreams.

the recent emotional blah came as a result of Desperate Housewives, the OTHER love of my life. 

the initial excitement started on a saturday. adverts prepared thrilled viewers for the two hour season finale... it promised a murder, a breakup and a tasty new dish (not like, a meal, but a hunk of man. a meal wouldn't have gone amiss though.). i spent each day riding up to the finale on pins and needles, roping Muffin into conversations he was absolutely not even a little bit interested in (ps. ANOTHER reason he's the love of my life? despite his complete lack of interest in DH, he will listen and feign flabbergasted interest with exaggerated responses and gasps.) circulating mostly around WHO could possibly break up in this, the final episode of the season. he listened to me explain the relationships between all the main couples, their highs and lows throughout the last seven episodes, rationalizing why they should all stay with their prospective other halves.

when sunday finally arrived and the familiar tune started Muffin was in his "beat lab" recording a song. i nestled into the sofa with some cookie dough (and can i just stop right here and now and scold myself publicly for not ever eating cookie dough as a snack before about two weeks ago? i kinda hate that i missed out on over twenty-six years of what can only be described as edible heaven.) and a hot cup of creamy tea and prepared myself for my last date with my four favourite televisual bffs for the next four months or so.

during the course of the episode i laughed when we were due to laugh, tensed where tension was expected and swooned at all the arranged times.

and then... then my heart broke, presumably just as the writers had anticipated certain viewer's previously-broken hearts would. every single agonizing moment of the finale's telling of Lynette and Tom's separation made my chest and head heavier and heavier. the show's composers seemed to have known very clearly what exactly it would take to completely dissect every tiny little emotion that i went through during the course of my own personal separation.

from the initial before-the-decision - when Lynette and Tom took part in activities with friends pretending nothing was happening. heavens knows we tried so terribly to make everything work OUTSIDE of the home... we went out for drinks at the pub, attended birthday parties and put on the faces of a couple who, whilst not completely rock-solid, were going to be okay. we hugged at all the times that social customs have said it would be appropriate and refrained from arguing as much as we could until the ever-so-special walks home started, when everything became arduous and generally too much to handle. every detail of their before was somehow paralleled to ours. the fact that they didn't talk about the giant elephant in the room, lest it became riled and ruined the very precariously-situated emotional china that barely covered the ruined remains of a house that had seen countless emotional catastrophes took me straight back to two years ago when our days had become painstakingly constructed around avoiding potential explosive topics.


to Tom's packed suitcase - left by the door JUST IN CASE. it was a horrible reminder of Christopher's long nights out with his trusty green satchel. that satchel always waiting by the door of his bedroom or the hallway, filled with all the things he needed to be away from the house and away from us. the green satchel was his safety, his place to store his books, bike things, snacks and aftershave. every single time i saw that satchel i ached, knowing that i wasn't strong enough to leave, to spend nights away from my bed and the safety of the memories we'd spent so long creating. i needed them near me so i could very slowly make them manageable enough to leave behind and move away from. i hated Tom in those moments because it reminded me of how much i hated Christopher for making it seem so effortless to forget that we had been together for so long and it was over. i could feel the same exact disbelief and betrayal Lynette felt those first moments when he said he wasn't going to unpack his suitcase because i had been there, i KNEW how deep those words cut and i still carry some of the more awful scars.


to the end - when Lynette spoke of her afternoon away from Tom when she thought he had left, only to find he had gone to the supermarket. the entire time she was speaking, with every single word, i knew what she was feeling and when she let out an exasperated sigh i recited the same word in my mind that she said aloud, and that was "RELIEF." the solace i felt even in the most painful moments JUST after we decided to stop were comparable to nothing. after all the months spent agonizing over such a painful relationship and situation, most of my most favourite time was just after we split up and i could go outside and experience my life with a completely new and clear head... no arguments, no insecurity, just me and the new world on our own together. those days were always the most special for me. they allowed me to learn a lot about my own personal strength and develop an entirely new sense of the world around me. i understand the relief and appreciate more than anything how much of it i was granted in those first several weeks.

and like that, i was left curled in a ball with my tear-soaked blanket and a spoon. it was only after the credits finished rolling that i realized how hard i'd been crying from the pain in my chest to the moisture in the blanket. the pain is sometimes still so great. i wonder about him and quietly hope that he's found everything he wanted. i still wonder so many things, but i worry there's just a lot of questions still that will have to be left unanswered.

either way, i'm glad for all my experiences... our experiences. they've helped me become who i am today and that person is someone more capable of self-love and tenderness than before. for that, i am mostly grateful.

but also for Desperate Housewives.

the entry that is like an ocean metaphor

The wave crashed violently and descended on tuesday night… 

As you all know, my head has been swarming with many varieties of fish for the last week… some like tiny, beautiful little Clown Fish (Amphiprioninae), all cutesy-poo and flippy. All swimming by in an array of colours and playing nicely together, making things feel all light and fun like the ever-famous Disney-Pixar film which has now made fish shop workers hate any customer that comes in asking for a “Nemo.” Deeper and more menacing were the Angler Fish (Lophius Piscatorius), being all bitey and occasionally gobbling up some of the cuter, more fun fish, just because they could. Overall, the Anglers had gotten a little out of control and tuesday it had culminated into a darkness that left me sleepless, distressed and weepy. 

The darkness came from the fact that I have ALLOWED those Anglers to take over for so long and forgot to occasionally stop to feed the Clownies. I had allowed myself to become consumed by the stupid stresses, doubts and worries that have been attempting to take over my life for the last couple of months. Despite what everyone I have confided in has told me, I have refused to accept the fact that this isn’t forever… for me, the things I will be leaving next week will be gone… the current that I live in at the moment is constantly shifting and evolving and to abandon it for a year is to pretty much say goodbye to it because when I come back in a thirteen month’s time, it will not be the same at all… people will have changed, I will have most likely lost touch with some of my favourites and buildings will have been built and torn down. 

Tuesday night the waves came with the help of Pow… he arrived home with a random piece of shrubbery in one hand and a guitar and pastries in the other. I had been milling around the house tidying, cooking and packing and felt deflated. When he arrived I had been curled-up on the sofa watching Mitchell and Webb, wishing I wasn’t feeling so emo… he came in with a proud face and I hopped-up to finish dinner. I cooked and in between stirrings of the pot we talked and hugged. 

We sat and ate… I felt numb. He asked if I wanted to talk about what was going on with me, something he doesn’t do often… my chin did that little quivering thing and my eyes leaked a little bit… 

The next hour and a half was an interesting deep-sea dive of sorts. I grabbed each Angler one by one and showed them to Pow, explaining each of their anatomies… the Muffin one, which makes me feel anxious, lied-to, hurt and terrified. The America one, which makes me feel excited but insecure and doubtful of my future. I had shown these Anglers to Janey, Alison and Ashley over the previous couple of days and they supported me, offering me validation and warm e-hugs. Pow didn’t offer me this courtesy… he was bluntly honest and on Muffin’s side, making me hate him briefly and wonder why he couldn’t just tell me that I am right and offer me a hug like everyone else. Our conversation became heated and all the Anglers became riled so we ended it, finished the film then rinsed his hair. 

The thing Pow was most firm on was the fact that I NEEDED to speak to Muffin about what was going on… so I did just that. Despite Muffin’s almost complete lack of time for me, I finally got in touch with him voice-to-voice and we talked… we hashed things out in between my mobile beeping at me that I had texts. I hung up still not feeling 100%, but more like, 92.6%. 

I checked my messages… the first one was from Pow, reminding me to stay calm and to let him know how it went. 

The other from Christopher, telling me he didn’t think he was going to be able to face meeting up with me before I leave and asking if I ever thought I was going to go “home.”  I replied to the Ex, asking what his definition of “home” was and saying I understood about not wanting to meet up, but I’d really like to.

I then replied to Pow, telling him it went okay and telling him Christopher had texted me. 

He asked if I wanted to talk. 

I said yes. 

He told me to come in. 

I put on a cardigan and padded into his room and curled-up on the left-hand side of his bed. I had never laid on his bed before and was surprised by how comfortable it was. I went through the entire conversation with Muffin, telling Pow the highs and lows, wondering the entire time what he was thinking. He then turned to his side and curled-up facing me and he began to talk… I watched his face as the light next to his bed got dimmer and dimmer (as an aid to allow you to fall into a natural sleep). I listened to his words as I inhaled, attempting, as usual, to memorize the moment. My eyeballs got misty as we discussed his relationships and my move and how he coped with a similar situation. 

He then asked me about my text from Chris… I rolled onto my belly and read it to him. Almost as if to put a period on the end of the final sentence in the text, I received another one from Chris and read it aloud without pre-reading it, which was a big mistake on my behalf. I choked on the words “coffee machine” as i read them out... I remember so well how excited I was when I picked it out and I remember how I HAD to give it to him two weeks before Christmas because I just couldn’t wait to see the glee on his face when he opened it. 

Pow and I talked for an hour more… we talked about the significance of the coffee machine and how his household item was a hand blender. We talked about his divorce and my divorce and how he thinks a proper goodbye is very important. As he talked I laid there and wondered how I was going to go an entire thirteen months without him… he spoke to me about the past and how I’ve changed since I’ve known him and it made my chest hurt to think that this boy that knows me better than anyone else will be 9,000 miles away and there’s nothing I’m going to be able to do about it. I won’t be able to train someone in that time and I don’t have the desire to in the first place. 

We talked until his medication kicked in and he was too slur-y for me to pay attention to anymore and I asked for a hug. I grabbed him and held him and instantly started to cry. I cried and told him how much I was going to miss him and how much I loved him. He brushed it off like he always does and I left him to sleep. 

once i got into bed we texted for a while longer, until I was on the wrong side of 3am and I was going to die if I didn’t go to sleep immediately… 

I laid there, after the final text in a haze of complete content… like everything, all the tension, stress, fear and awful feelings had built up and finally been allowed to crash on the beach of my life and retreat.
Everything’s gone now… like it’s all been washed-away. The only niggling feelings that I have are ones of absolute anguish from imagining what that final hug with Pow will be like or how emotional I will get at my leaving party. I feel okay now, like I CAN deal with this and like this ISN’T forever… although it will feel like ages and when I come back things won’t be exactly the same, I will be fine and that’s all that matters. Chris and I will meet up, Pow and I will continue to make fabulous memories for the next seven days and I will arrive in Seattle next Thursday into the waiting arms of Muffin with a positive outlook and hopeful smile (and most likely sleep in my eyes and tears on my cheeks). Life is going to go on and all the good things that usually happen to me will continue to happen… I work hard to have all the little bits of magic in my life take place and I won’t settle for any less now, despite all the darkness, ugly and terror. I deserve the best and I am going to continue ensuring I have the best. 

Thanks Pow.

Divorce: Day 321

Today, finally, it is all over for me. 

Today, finally, I don’t have to think about it anymore. 

Today, finally, I received my Decree Absolute. 

The Decree Absolute tells me that the marriage has been completely dissolved. It tells me that I no longer have any legal ties to Chris. It tells me that I am no longer legally a Butcher. 

The marriage was actually legally dissolved on 29^th June but it seems that there was a problem with paperwork and my copy went to my old address. I had to ring yesterday and speak to a very curt woman who snapped at me for a number of reasons before promising to re-send my copy of the paperwork and hanging up on me. 

It is a genuine relief that now, today, ten months and eighteen days after we decided that our forever was over, I can rest easy and not have to worry about it anymore. 

I’ve been pining for his father a lot lately… John was a fabulously eccentric man who I always seemed to get along with quite well. He was always so friendly and warm with me in his own racist, shouty, only-in-pants sort of way and I miss him a lot. I’ve not seen him now for over a year. It was 21^st of July last year and we went on a trip to Calke Abbey. We walked through the massive gardens and I leapt over the barriers to pluck the fresh raspberries off the bushes for an after-lunch snack. That Tuesday hosted a beautiful afternoon that ended with us having a fabulous gammon dinner at home and with Chris and I deciding not to travel back to Wiltshire with them due to financial constraints and a job I had been given doing wardrobe for a short film with a friend. 

I’ve loved John from the first time I heard his voice… his accent being the perfect amount of West Country for me to understand and mock occasionally. He is so loud and has a rare type of self-confidence that oozes onto me when I am around him. He cares not what anybody else thinks, he just does what he wants when he wants and I love that about him. 

Out of all of Chris’s close family, John has always been the one that has made the effort to talk to me and be friendly with me. He’s always been kind and funny and spoken to both of us on a very regular basis. He called almost weekly and I always loved hearing him immediately shout down the line, in his oh-so-familiar voice, “You alright my lover?” I would instantly shout back “you alright John?!” and we’d talk about the recession, booze and work. 

I miss John and I am hoping that I will get to see him during a brief excursion I will be making down to Wiltshire next week. I shall most likely ring him tonight and see if he would mind a quick cup of tea with me… just for me to say goodbye properly and thank him for being such a wonderful father-in-law. He was the best father-in-law I could have imagined having and it’s going to be hard to not have him in my life anymore… 

I find it so difficult to believe that it’s all officially over now. Monday I found myself watching Chris as he sat and talked in his typically animated way to some random person. I was stood with Franny and Jax, waiting for the music to start at a gig I really had no interested in being at, when Chris came out and sat. He was wearing the red and black checked shirt that he bought during one of our Matalan dates over a year ago. His hair was a mess and he was quite clearly inebriated. It was the first time I was presented with him very forwardly touching ANNA in front of me. I attributed this mostly to his being slightly drunk, as I know he gets that way… that’s just the thing though, I KNOW him and it hurt. 

Stood there in that beer garden I love so much, tossing words back and forth between us, I noticed he smelled different. I found myself wondering why he changed his man-perfume and when.
I noticed he had a different mobile and I asked him how long it took him to choose it, knowing before I finished the first word that the answer would be “more than two weeks”… because he LOVES to investigate every single option available from every single source, most times he doesn’t even achieve a purchase as he becomes exhausted from the process long before his brain will let him click into grab-the-wallet-take-out-card mode. 

My heart began to hurt, remembering that he was my husband… I was married to him at one time and we were happy. I watched with harsh judgement at the lack of warmth that ANNA seems to supply to him and I worried that he doesn’t get enough cuddles. He deserves cuddles, they were always his favourite. Even though things were awful in the end I still loved nestling under his chin for a hug… I loved feeling the embrace and emanating body heat of someone else. I wonder why she doesn’t… why don’t they ever seem to touch one another or show any form of outward affection? 

He asked me how I was… not in a patronizing way, but in a way that expresses general worry. He always asks me that and his big green eyes look so genuine every time. he knows me and he knew from the moment I told him I was moving away how terrified I would get so now he doesn’t even bat an eyelash when I begin explaining to him how little I am eating or how the lack of sleep is affecting my daily routines.
From the very first day that I announced I had become emotionally entangled with Muffin again Chris has been concerned for me. He told me often that I was perhaps rushing into things and that I needed to take some time for myself to be free and easy and not have to live for anybody else. I scoffed my way into my citizenship, a flight and moving house before finally sitting down and wondering if he was right… I hated admitting it to him as we were stood there under the neon blue fairy lights, but I really am worried I’ve not taken enough time for myself… I went from being married to Chris to being divorced to planning ANOTHER forever with Muffin within a month… 

Even in the time leading up to my leaving I am not taking time for myself… I am creating for other people, baking and cooking for other people and tidying for other people. I just want to relax… I want to sit, watch every film on my shelves I’ve not watched yet and not have to worry about anything except what bit will be best to pause for a toilet/snack/nap break. I am taking as many precious little moments as I can do for myself, but I am still finding my candle burning at each end and I don’t have the time or energy to re-build. 

So here I am, 321 days into being divorced and twenty-two days from a flight halfway around the world… I have never in my life been more terrified of anything. I’ve never questioned something so much in my head or made so many excuses…  I can honestly say at the moment that I’ve no idea what I am doing… 

I wonder if I should have listened to Chris all those months ago when he said I needed to take a break. 

I wonder if I should have stopped trying to be some sassy and in-control-of-her-own destiny girl and taken the advice of someone that knew me better than most at the time… 

I wonder what will be on my megamix from graham.

Divorce, day 295

39 weeks ago I had woken up to go to work like any other day… Christopher and I had had a terrible week, lots of name-calling, tears and scowls had been shared over the days prior to that Friday. 

We had been unhappy for a while. The moments of bliss that we shared grew fewer and further in-between as the months went by. 

I had begun spending a lot of time with people that were not Christopher’s biggest fans. I guess mentally I had already begun a phase of de-nesting… building up a support network that did not involve him or the people we shared as friends. I had been developing friendships for the months prior to our split with people that he did not know and, unfortunately, were quite volatile when the subject of ‘husband’ came up. 

They had seen me for several months…  seen my happiness and mental health unfold into almost a complete state of disrepair. I had begun having regular sleepovers at Hannah’s just to get away from the house. I had begun spending more time at work because it was easier to focus on casenotes and databases than my marriage. 

39 weeks ago I had a regular day at work. My boss was off on annual leave and I had a training session on E-Procurement., a new system we were having set into place within the Trust to allow for an easier and more centralized means of ordering necessities.  

I consumed the information at work with great excitement, as I have a constant and disgusting need to learn as many things as possible. 

I rode the bus home at half past four, just like any other day. Got off at the fourth stop and walked the rest of the way to the home I shared with my then-husband. I always dreaded the last three minutes of my walk home… just as I turned right, past the apartment buildings, lavender bushes and invasive trees. I hated that bit because it was always the time when I would reflect on my day, wonder what kind of a mood he would be in and what reason he would have to nag me and make me feel awful THAT day. No matter what kind of day I might have had, it was always, ALWAYS completely deflated by the time I arrived at my gate, for all the stress I had allowed to consume me for those 180 seconds. 

39 weeks ago I had decided to split from the forever I had spent the previous five years creating.
I can’t actually believe it’s been that long since that night. I look back now and see how far things have come along in my life and am amazed. 

Nearly ten months have gone and in that time I have become British, moved house, bought a ticket to America, lost a shit-ton of weight and just generally been well. I feel like I am living the life I actually came to England to live and unfortunately, it took me leaving Chris to allow for that to happen. 

A small part of me (VERY small) feels for him when I get the slightly emo array of texts from him talking about how hard it is… but then that bit tends to get overruled when I get a sassy or weird text… like, a couple of weekends ago I got a random text from him saying, “Oh cool for you that your next encounter with a wedding will be a laugh out loud joke fest compared to my soul crushing white church wedding.” This came as I was sat on the bus with janey on the way to her parent’s house. The sun was lighting the left side of my face far too much for my liking and I showed the text to janey before responding and asking what he meant… 

As it turns out, ANNA’S mum was getting married last weekend and Chris had attended the wedding. As per the text, you will see that the wedding was a proper “white wedding” (although, I am FAIRLY certain that the entire basis of a “white wedding” is purity and blah, blah, blah. So how one could possibly wear white as a sign of purity with their three daughters stood next to them and think that the whiteness was expressing anything other than a big, stinking lie is beyond me.). His text came after I had sent him one asking him, yet again, to do the one last piece of paperwork for our divorce (the Decree Absolute). 

He responded saying that he was sat at the head table and it was all a very serious affair and generally giving off the vibe that my next wedding was going to be a joke and that I was lazy and I should have done the paperwork myself and a whole truckload of other crap I’m not even interested in trying to remember right now. 

Every negative encounter we have had recently has been as a result of my enquiries into the progress of the Decree Absolute. By the time I had received the above-mentioned text thirteen weeks had passed since we were given the go-ahead to submit it. Thirteen weeks is ample time to get some paperwork together in my mind, but not in Chris’s, apparently, as he just fought it and participated in emotional thrashing-around at any mention of the paperwork being done. At the end of it all, last week, he called me names, asked for my address and then sent me a text. The text contained the picture you can now see to your right and said “Look! Soon to be divorcee! I was avoiding it because it makes my stomach hurt.” I replied, just confirming that what I was looking at was indeed the final bit of paperwork being submitted and received this, “Yeah. Just think of me when you are busy remarrying in a few months. Sanctity Schmankity.” It digressed from there to something about him being emo and whatever… I don’t know. It’s all a bit depressing and I don’t like to dwell on it any more than I need to. 

But GOD did I dwell the other night. I found myself caught VERY short of emotion… I was sat in my usual spot in the beer garden at Bar One with Pow and Amy, prepared to cheer a sufficient amount for the comedic stylings of Nick and (other) Amy when, during the break to the interval, I hit the emotional brick wall. I had kinda bumped in to that brick wall a little earlier in the day when I was looking at a photo that John Goncalves was tagged in on Facebook. I clicked it mindlessly as it looked interesting, not even looking to see who had tagged him or who’s profile it came from. I looked at the photo of some etchings someone had done into some wood… I clicked the photo to see the next one and lost my breath. It was a photo of Chris and ANNA. It was a photo of them being a couple. It was a photo not unlike ones that he and I used to take. It was a photo that, for some very peculiar reason, made my eyeballs misty. 

So, that evening when Chris walked off the stage after doing a set my eyeballs decided to become misty again.  I imagine it was the combination of me being drunk with the fact that I was in a pub that I frequented with Chris quite a lot that made me feel particularly bad… it genuinely made my tiny heart strain with pain as he passed-by me. Not in a longing sort of way, but because I’ve lost something. I was married to him and he used to be a part of my everyday life and now I’m not and he’s not. I’m not made of stone, things do hurt sometimes and that night, I fell over all morose and Pow kept trying to cheer me up… singing and dancing for me. it didn’t work. The veil of sad had been tossed on my face and I was stuck with it all night. I was fine by morning, but it didn’t half hurt to come to that kind of a realization whilst I was out trying to have a good time. 

Today though, I am happy with the semblance of a relationship I have with Chris, even despite the divorce. we get on well enough to be able to talk amicably most of the time, which is all I could really ask for… 

I don’t regret it and I absolutely stand firm in my belief that us splitting up was one of the best things to happen to the both of us.

Divorce: Day 231

Thirty-three weeks weeks ago today the whole of my life altered completely. 

Thirty-three weeks ago today I was still married, but very unhappily. Things between chris and I had become so strained that he had resorted to hating a very good friend of his and calling into my place of work to check and see if I was in. the arguments were heated and often, leaving our relationship in such a state of disrepair that we decided we had no choice but to give up. We were both tired physically, emotionally and mentally. It was too much to have to deal with anymore… well, I am really only at liberty to speak to myself, but I can’t help but think that he would agree were he to be reading this. 

all those weeks ago i never anticipated that i would have come as far as i have or done the things i have done. 


i found myself alarmed the other night at the realization that it has indeed been eight months since we ended things. the revelation came to me perched at the bar in my favourite pub... i was chatting with franny and fondly remembering all the fabulous times i've had there over the last two years and already finding myself pining for the saturdays i won't be able to prance into that beautiful little place on newland street and smell the familiar stale beer scent that i have come to love so much, saturdays when i won't be going home covered in dog hair after romping around drunkenly with buddy, the tiny resident canine. 


memories came to me, swirling in the shape of gigs, cupcake extravaganzas and fag breaks with strangers... all of which were done by the side of my then-husband. the bulk of my first memories there involved chris in some way... it's not until recently, perhaps the last couple of months that i've found myself willing to go out on my own and have a good time. now though, most of my saturdays tend to see me prancing out to the pub if only to drink myself into a stupor and heckle the local hussies, disableoids and hideous chodes that filter in and out of the pub with the owner, nick. i love and cherish my saturdays and am on a mission to occupy as many of them as possible with fabulous memories involving elderflower cider, franny, nick and billy ocean. i seem to have very happily developed the ability to go out and have a good time on my own, something i never anticipated i'd be able to do had you asked me to eight months ago... now though, i go out and am finding myself existing with a new-found confidence that i have fallen madly in love with.


the last two weeks my mobile has played host to countless texts from my ex-husband... the first arriving on the day of my newest tattoo... i was reclining in a pub on a sofa that was seemingly made of clouds, musing over the fabulousness of life when my mobile vibrated on the table. i scooped it up expecting a comical limerick from Pow or some sort of love from the boyface, but instead it quoted the sender as 'Estranged.' i snorted at janey and opened it to find a fairly casual text asking when my tattoo would be occurring and how i was. i replied advising i had just left the tattoo shop and asking if he wanted to see a photo of my newest inky baby. he said he did so i sent him a photo and asked how he was. janey and i were in the middle of discussing what his motives were for being so friendly when i got another ping/vibrate telling me about his day and generally being delightful. 


this has been going on now for the last eleven days. this all comes as a surprise to me after a meal we had round mine three weeks ago. chris arrived at mine with the intent of looking at the fishy babies and planning what to do with them when i offered him a meal as i had baked bread and was making spaghetti. he obliged and we had a really lovely meal that saw us range in topics of conversation from Muffin to Manface to the fact that we both believe americans over-medicate everyone and everything they possibly can. we ate and talked and had a generally nice time... all to be squared-away by a final thought, a'la jerry springer, outlining the fact that talking to me was still incredibly painful for chris and he most likely wouldn't be in touch for a while. 

despite this forecast the conversations have been flowing and chris and i have been  getting on quite well... he is finally finding himself able to talk more about things, claiming that he's decided he wished he could hate me, but at the end of the day, he really does like talking to me and i know him really well, so it's nice for him. 


i would be lying if i were to say that it's nice to finally be able to talk to him and be amicable. i am slowly learning to stop referring to manface by her loving pet-name and i am remembering slowly why he is a really good person. he's funny, quick and JUST the right amount of cynical. it's nice to have that back in my life, at a lovely and safe distance.

the distance comes in the form of texts... mostly daily... the content ranging from topics about bands we are both listening to and how things are going with our prospective significant others. 

the last day or two my mobile has housed texts discussing how surreal it is for him that i am leaving. he just keeps repeating that he can't believe i'm going. i don't really know what to do with this information, so i am just putting it in an envelope and filing it away with the other strange and confusing bits of my life.


in other divorce-related news, i have officially met ANNA (who i plan to, from here-on-out, refer to by her real name, at the request of chris... i am feeling nice, so i have obliged). this happened on a night i was particularly drunk and looking incredibly fabulous. i was on form enough to prance over, shriek about my ducks (see later blog) and then grab her and apologize for ever upsetting her. she seemed pleased and said she'd like to talk if i was going to be around later in the night... i said i was, but once i had another drink in me the bile in my stomach said i wasn't. 

last night sealed the amicable deal, when during my regular date-night at bar one, whilst sat at my regular seat (which offers me the PERFECT perspective of any and all people who might enter the pub) with nick and franny, ANNA and chris walked in... i was desperate to contain my glee as i pulled out my little tin covered in unicorns and moustaches which houses my smoking (cancer) products. i told franny she needed to smoke as well and we pranced outside to see them sat there with their perspective drinks. franny and i chatted a bit and then, somehow, i can't really recall, i was beckoned over to them. we chatted about the fact that i had seen ANOTHER man dying (see later blog), about the gallery opening nick and i went to and how incredibly inebriated i was. 


we bantered for a while and i was then saved by an attack stage left... it was my squishy pow-face and amy. i spun around and immediately embraced amy, then pow. the three of us squealed about everything and then nothing... then got more drinks.


the remainder of the night was just delightful. i existed in between chats with Nick and ANNA/Chris/Mark... ever-being followed by amy, so as to ensure i said or did nothing stupid. we smoked, drank and generally got on okay. it was nice and today, i can say that my divorce is going okay... chris and i have gone past the horrible fighting stage and are now on regular speaking terms again, which pleases me. despite all the bad times we had, he's a really good person and i hated the thought of losing that. 


now, please enjoy some photos from last night... 

the things we did and didn't do...

I should start this by saying that I am hardly ever nervous about anything… ever. I am a fairly confident and with-it female who has her head locked on straight and in the upright position; I know how to rationalize things in a realistic and healthy manner…  

This is why I found it odd to feel my tummy gurgling with anxiety for the entirety of yesterday.

You see, Chris has a sister and her name is Maria. She is absolutely lovely and is the wife of a gentleman called John and the mother of three fabulously beautiful children named Oliver, Florence and Fergus. 

Now, maria and I have never been what one would call ‘close’ during the course of my seven years with Chris… we didn’t talk often and I think I can count on one hand the amount of times we have hung out. She is lovely and we would have very brief but altogether nice chats on the phone when I was around to answer during one of her phone calls, but overall, nay. 

This is why I found it rather odd to find her sending me texts and emails regularly about a week after Chris and I split up. Her emails and text were not prying… they were really lovely, in fact. She wanted to meet up and make sure I was well. It all came to a head when she enquired repeatedly until I obliged to a dinner out with her, her husband and the kids for last night. 

This was the source of my nerves… I am honestly not sure at all why I was so nervous… I don’t know if I had expected her to attack me or harass me until I broke down, but what I DID know is my tummy was full of ugly at the thought of meeting up with her. 

I mused about possible events at work throughout the day… Al (a fabulous creature that I share an office with) offering me insight and suggestions for dealing with it. I discussed with the muffin some and just resigned myself to a potentially stressful dinner and then home to work on the costume. 

That is until around half three when I received a text from Pow Pow… the text read…

‘Danie she loved it so much, she was giddy. She wants to thank you somehow. But I’m not allowed to say!x thank you.x so I’ll be back tonight if you wanted to do movies?x’

(It must first be noted that the ‘she’ he is referring to is his girlfriend, Amy, and the ‘it’ that he is referring to is the Chinook of glory. Several weeks ago I asked Pow if there was anything in particular he wanted me to make for him as I felt I was up for a challenge and he replied saying that his girlfriend really liked Chinooks. Whilst I was hesitant at first to share my wares out to a complete stranger, I agreed simply because of the precious pouty face that Pow has the ability to pull. I made the magical Chinook with special heart-shaped windows to be given to Amy for Valentine’s Day.)

I immediately rang him and we chatted a bit about how excited she was about it and then he asked how I was… I told him that I was nervous because of the din din and he said that he wanted me to ring him when I was done so he could offer a ‘pick me up’ (which, when Pow Pow is concerned, always involves snack attacks and omgphotos!) I said I would ring him when I was done. 

The walk to the restaurant felt like it took a billion years… in reality, it only took 32 minutes, but it was a long journey that prompted my ipod to play all the saddest songs it had on its playlist. That, combined with the dreary weather set the mood appropriately. I arrived with a suitable amount of gloom and stood patiently at the entrance, waiting for my masticating companions. 

Every single child that passed me was delighted and/or confused by me. My hair proved to be too much to most of the children that were participating in their parent’s patronage… I just smiled sweetly at all of them and waited. 

It had been three years since I saw them last. Florence was barely two, Oliver was still getting used to having a younger sister and Fergus wasn’t even a glimmer in Maria’s eye. They arrived together and I was greeted with smiling faces and tiny, precious voices telling me about their snow escapades from earlier in the day. 

We were shown to our table and I was situated in the circular booth between Oliver and Florence. As we perused the menus Florence proceeded to offer me her version of the Spanish inquisition. She asked me about why I had two necklaces, what the dog tags said, why I had blue hair, why I had a bird on my chest, did my tattoos hurt, why were all the holes in my ears difference sizes, why did my earrings not match, how did I do my nails, why did I have rubber bands on my wrist, was the starfish in my necklace real, how did I get it, how did it die… I could go on. It didn’t stop. I patiently obliged and discussed all topics danie-related with her. 

The meal went forward with conversations about my moving back to America, my job, projects I’m working on and what I did for the holidays. At one point, we got up to get salad and when I came back I shifted some of the coats and my handbag and they so happened to become positioned between myself and Florence. Flo demanded I move everything so she could be right next to me. I moved the objects to the other side and the inquisition continued.

 

Once we finished eating I held Fergus for a while. He threw a breadstick at my glasses and Maria took photos. Once I handed Fergus to his dad Flo decided she wanted to sit on my lap and she sat there and we talked about the toys I make and tattoos and took photos.

I so rarely spend time with children, but I feel like now, especially now, when I see children I NEED one. I embraced being able to play with them and talk to them last night… I just adore the fact that they are tiny versions of us that have just not been moulded yet. It amazes me and I just want one so bad… one that I can teach and snuggle and read to and just have as a part of my life. 

On our way out the door I sent Pow a text asking him if he was about ready for a visit from danie and he replied saying he was and that he was calling his dad so he might not hear me (this is only funny if you know the ‘code’ that was made up on my birthday… suffice it to say that it delights me to no end that he has started using my code. If you want to know more about the code, as a member of staff.).

I then hugged everyone and got in my taxi. I got in the taxi and immediately deflated… without thinking I said aloud, ‘well THAT was exhausting!’ and he asked if that was my family. Now Danie, being the outrageously open person she is (but also being familiar with this particular taxi driver), decided to tell the whole story about the divorce and the fact that that family was comprised of my estranged in-laws to this almost-stranger… he and I talked about divorces for the remainder of the journey and the fact that I was american and may be moving back. 

I am realising more and more how often I talk to strangers and tell them everything. Stacey finds it incredibly alarming that everyplace I go I find someone to talk to about things… I adore talking to people. It makes me incredibly happy. 

I arrived at Pow’s and I instantly put the kettle on and began the cups of tea streaming. I sat down whilst he did the washing-up and told him how tired and ‘saggy’ I felt. I explained why I was feeling so exhausted and we talked about that for a while… about my fears for moving back to america, my hesitations and general urgh! 

I showed him photos of the kids and said that I wanted one and he said, ‘well, you’ll have other people’s for a while now!’ I both love him and hate him for making this comment. I love that he knows that I will be a ‘step-mum’ of sorts to the muffin’s three children and I also love that he makes light of it when, in actual fact, I hate the fact that it is true… I WILL have to live through other people’s children. Sigh.

He and I talked about avatar (as he had just gotten home from seeing it). This film has been on my shit list since I saw the very first poster for it ages ago. I HATE fantasy films and I HATE the stupid blue faces of the characters. I vowed never, EVER to see it. He reckons I should go see it in the cinema in 3-d and that I would really like it. I might. We’ll see. He then noted that he saw an advert for Alice in Wonderland in 3-d which I have already reserved him for. We will have a fabulous dinner out (most likely at burger king or wetherspoons) and then go and watch some fabulous imagery whilst consuming hot dogs, popcorn and cola. 

We then talked for a while about his past relationships, Amy, Janey and my moving back to america and then put things on his calendar (namely, our mandible date for tonight, my leaving party (which prompted him to call me a bitch), my leaving date and my birthday).

Then his parents showed up. His mum bumbled into the house armed with wool… lots of wool. I had emailed her earlier in the day asking her if I could steal some of it for the bear blanket and she obliged. His dad was helping him with shifting some stuff up into the loft, so his mum and I sat downstairs and talked about wool, the playhouse, her other kids and the fact that she was amazed by how well and fast and I can crochet without watching. She is so, SO lovely. Both of his parents are; I love them so much!

Once they left we watched a bit of telly and then Ladykillers (the remake). We giggled a lot, ate snacks and then, when the film was finished, we filmed a video and took some super-sassy photos.

Around one a.m. I left and upon arriving home I uploaded the photos and retired to bed, bantering via text with Pow until I fell asleep. 

It’s days like that that I will miss… days that are full of lots of things but also full of… wonderful. Work. Meal. Pow. It was perfect. Just to have a friend like that, god I feel so lucky. 

In other news, it is a mere two days until the muffin gets his orders… a mere two days until I will know the exact day my world will stop revolving around anything but myself and my heart. 

All excitement aside it’s been a bit blargh this week between him and me. Like, we’ve talked some and it’s been nice, but we have both been so busy that we haven’t been able to dedicate quite as much time as usual to one another. I still send him long, fabulous emails several times a day, mostly because I LOVE talking, but he rarely responds with much more than a sentence or anything. He’s a busy boy, starting to prepare for leave, so I will leave him to it. 

Sigh… my heart feels heavy. 

Off to London tomorrow to see my janeyface and to cuddle her to death. I shall meet my future husband and eat buns until I explode. It will be wonderful and hopefully not TOO tense.

five years ago today...

Five years ago today I never thought this is where I would be. 

On this day, at this time, five years ago I was in the middle of celebrating the fact that chris and I had just entered the world of wedded bliss… we had put the finishing touches on the venue where we would party until the wee hours of the morning. We were accepting hugs and cards from all our nearest and dearest who we had invited to share our special day with us. We were dancing our first dance as a married couple to ‘Je T'aime.’ We were happy and madly in love. 

I can remember that. I can remember very clearly now all the emotions I went through surrounding being away from him prior to my moving here…  I can remember the way it felt the day I got to the airport that final time, November 19^th 2004… I can remember exactly what it felt like the night before we got married when I arrived back at our flat... Danie, suitably drunk, was forbidden to go in because chris and his ‘stags’ were there and the clock had already ticked over to the day of our wedding... Nobody wanted to risk the possibility of bad luck, so they barricaded me outside, hysterical, on the steps for nearly twenty minutes until all the boys left and I was allowed to go in and collapse on my bed in an elated, almost-bride mess. 

I can remember waking up in the morning to the sound of my mobile going… the voice at the other end was my almost-husband. We talked in hushed tones about how excited we were… talked about our nights and how much we missed one another (despite the fact that we were mere YARDS apart) and mused about the wedding and how much fun it was going to be. I remember how much my head hurt the instant I hung up the phone, the previous night’s antics combined with the fact that someone had set off the fire alarm in our flat did not go down well. I remember the flurry of excitement that my bedroom immediately became the instant I put Pulp on and opened my door. Girls prancing in and out, hairspray, glitter, curling irons, something old, something borrowed, something new and the dress… my navy blue dress of wonder, to be paired only with my silver veil and shoes for the purpose of walking down the aisle and marrying him… chris… the boy I had met two years prior… the boy that had had the pull on me to drag me 8,000 miles away from all my family and friends with the promise of a wonderful life together. 

Five years ago today I never could have imagined that I would be two days into my decree nisi after being separated from my husband for five months. 

Today I have been desperately trying to clutch onto the memories of each of our previous four wedding anniversaries… what we did on them and how we celebrated the union of our lives… 

The first year I recall us having only recently moved into our first house together. 5 harcourt street played host to us celebrating our first 365 days together as man and wife… I recall getting him books and a card… he got me a card. Some sort of a meal was involved… perhaps even a meal out. I don’t remember anything else.

I have absolutely no memory of our second anniversary and how we celebrated it… I want to say that perhaps we went out for a meal? 

The third year was celebrated in ANOTHER new home… my current one. We had not long moved in again and we were still reeling from the glee that surrounded the amazing wonder of thick walls, a giant garden and a landlord that wasn’t satan. I recall this year being incredibly strained… we were very unhappy… struggling to have a day pass that didn’t feature and revolve around an argument about money, our sex life or dane. My precious kasey was due to arrive the next day and, from what I can recall, chris and I ordered in chinese food, were disgusted with the service and watched ‘Fido.’

The fourth and final anniversary we celebrated together was… hrm… again, I am struggling to recall. Again, I remember ordering food in and sitting in the lounge watching films with chevy. We laid on the floor with a serious pile of duvets and lots of snuggles and photos. THE Incident had taken place five months prior and we were still running on a fairly mechanical basis from that… I remember loving him that night; lying on the floor talking and loving the fact that I had his face there with me. I remember feeling pleased that I hadn’t left him in September. 

I think I could speak for both us of when I say that never on that night would we have dreamed that in a mere seven months we would be in that very same room deciding that we couldn’t do it anymore… that there simply wasn’t enough left in either of us. 

At one a.m. yesterday my mobile began to vibrate with the promise of a new text, when I grabbed it, expecting it to be another text from pow pow I was surprised to see ‘ESTRANGED’ as the sender. I had avoided sending him any form of communication on our Decree Nisi day as he had made it seem as though my contact was very unwelcome. 

The text simply read, ‘today was the day. Night.x’

Obviously, I knew he was referring to the penultimate stage of our divorce… the announcement of our intentions in court and the posting of a notice for the next six weeks and one day. I replied saying that he was sassy and I was going to say something but thought he might crap his pants (I’m delightful, yes?). The day dragged on with a series of texts and emails between him and I discussing his feelings about the whole thing… we decided to meet up for a drink in town. 

I arrived, snow-swept, to see him with a pint and a shot of whiskey, his favourite. We chatted about the projects we are each working on and about our significant others… it was nice, like that scene in ‘the breakup’ where they meet up at the end of the film and chat… it was like that. We talked and it was okay. At the end of it we hugged, we hugged and I waivered. The instant my arms were around him his smell enveloped me and I remembered everything… I remembered waking up on mornings when he had work before I had gotten up and going to the toilet to find it smelled so much like him. I used to stand in the hall for minutes just smelling the air. I remembered the day he came home with that cologne and how much we laughed at the others he had brought with it… their horrific, flowery stenches. We held one another for a short period and then I helped him out with his double bass and we hugged once more outside before he gave me a fabulous forehead kiss and went one way whilst I went the other. 

I feel like yesterday was important because I need to see him to offer myself… hrm… I don’t want to say  ‘closure’ because I feel like I’ve HAD that… I think I just need to be able to look at him and know absolutely that this is okay… I need to keep checking it, just to make sure. Like, I KNOW it’s okay, but I sometimes need to remind myself by going and seeing his face… I also really, REALLY don’t want to lose him as a friend. He has been huge in my life and we always got on when we weren’t trying to be husband and wife. I really don’t want to lose this amazingly funny, knowledgeable, fun person from my life. Like pow pow and janey, he’s another one of those people that I will never find another of. No matter what kind of ugly we have gone through in our time together, we are still the same people we always were and they are the people that initially started talking in that chatroom seven years ago.

Divorce aside, I have been living in between states of bliss. 

I am still counting down the days until my life actually turns into a Hollywood movie… until I get to be happier than I think I have ever been in my entire life… until my big, beautiful bag of muffins arrives. As of this moment, he will be leaving Iraq in (hopefully) twenty-two days. Leaving Iraq and making his way to my little part of the world that I have prepared specially for his visit. 

All things muffin-related have been incredible. I feel like at the moment, right now, there is no way I could love him any more than I already do… I arrived home last night with a parcel in my hands, a parcel that he had posted nearly three weeks prior. I waited until he got back online and whacked on my webcam so he could see my excited expressions and witness me following through with my ridiculous ‘smelling things’ ritual (yes, anytime I get anything new… ANYTHING. I have to smell it, smell it for ages). I opened the parcel to see a letter first… a letter addressed simply to ‘little bear’ in the most fabulous of handwriting. I opened it, smelled it and read it. Next was a shirt. Then a henry rollins book… one that is a special first edition signed by henry rollins. Then we had a patch that he has had since 2007 that displays his rank. Next to the patch was a pair of dogtags he had specially made for me… all items were smelled thoroughly and cuddled. 

Underneath these was the thing that destroyed me. It was a shirt that he had worn… I lifted it out and smelled it, I immediately began to cry. The smell was… fuck, I can’t even explain it. It was the very distinct smell of BOY that was new and was an actual, real smell that I could associate with him… this was a smell that he picked out and put on himself on a daily basis… a smell that was his and only his. The sweet combination of Iraqi laundry detergent, old spice and axe… the smell that is like no other smell I have ever smelled. A smell I can't seem to get enough of... I keep going back for more and more. 

I can't wait to be able to ACTUALLY smell him... to ACTUALLY have him here in front of me, at the mercy of my nose... that will make all my little life perfect. 

Muffin-related things aside, I am fabulous. Alastair and I have been busy working on Johnny things and that has just been amazing. We have gotten so close as a result of working on this together and that fact pleases me more than anything in the entire world. I love the friendship that he and i have developed... he's such a special boy.

So there we are... Danie, pleased beyond believe and humbled by the whole divorce thing.