it's gotta get bad before it gets good...

so, the other night i'm laying in my bed. i'm laying there and doing an intensive internal assessment. checking in with parts of my body, to see if they're all still there, working and not needing any sort of medical attention. this need to assess my physical well-being comes from the fact that America is AWESOME and unwilling to provide any kind of socialized healthcare to people who need it despite certain individual's needs.

i checked with my legs and instinctively began scratching. since my first trip back from England in 2004 i have suffered from a horrible case of itchy legs. i would scratch and scratch until i bled. there are countless scars all over my legs from years of scratching. actually, little known fact, the main reason i originally started to get my legs tattooed was because i hated seeing the scratches and scars all over my legs.

moving on, i checked in with my belly by giving it a squeeze with both hands. trying to compare the size of the amount of fat i held in my hands to some sort of fruit or vegetable. it used to be a grapefruit and has, over the last several months, morphed into a large honeydew. i frowned and hated myself silently for a moment, thinking about how much weight i had let myself gain in the last year. i have literally put on over forty pounds. seeing that number even just now makes me wish i was willing to lie, but i know it won't do much good. i need to be able to see that number and know that i need to do something, that i need to change my way of living because i'm not healthy and i'm only going to become MORE unhealthy if i don't sort my life out.

i checked with my back. presumably as a result of my weight gain, my lower back has been killing me. i can't walk for more than ten minutes at a moderate pace without needing to stop and complain because my back literally hurts THAT MUCH. i worry about my back because the last time i experienced a pain like i am right now was when i had a kidney infection. i can't afford to have any kind of illness right now, but a kidney infection would literally be the worst. i've been VERY careful monitoring my internal organs because i can't even imagine what would happen if i fell ill with a kidney infection again.

finally, i made a stop in my head, checked how my mental health was doing. this is always the most fun for me. i'm now hitting the last of my supply of the anti-depressants my doctor prescribed me before our healthcare ran out and i am to the point now where i've got so little Ritalin left that i have to ration it to days that i know i might want to be more active.

anyways, the internal mental health check was alarming. i'm a mess. i'm existing in this place at the moment where i'm completely unwilling to pretty much do just about anything. i don't want to get up in the morning, participate in anything during the day and CAN'T sleep at night. i'm depressed. again.

i've been dealing with this very special bout of depression for several months now, which has resulted in the elusiveness on my blog, along with other things. this depression has been crippling in a whole new way for me. i'd gotten myself into such a fabulous cycle of self loathing, indifference and cynicism that i'd just completely given up on literally everything. i'd stopped doing my hair, wearing anything other than sweatpants, crafting, writing, talking to people and worst of all, communicating in an age-appropriate and conductive way with Muffin. i had just set myself up in a horrible little hole of misery that was made up of nothing but sadness and disappointment (pretty much all of which, i must add, was self-induced).

to be fair, my entire adult life has been made up a string of situations that have left me feeling HORRIBLY disappointed. i have spent a great deal of time wondering why i constantly felt like i was existing in such a massive state of disappointment; why i just couldn't be happy.

wait, i want to start this miserable part of this post saying that i love Muffin. i love him so, so much more than i think anybody could ever understand. the love that i feel for him, it goes beyond any means of description or explanation.

anyways, do you know that feeling after an argument where you feel like... sigh. you feel completely deflated. no matter how amazing your day may have started out, everything is gone after that last snide, shitty comment. i've got that right now, kinda all the time. lately Muffin and i have virtually lived exclusively between a string of FABULOUS arguments that are born from simple, piece of shit comments that turn completely out of control VERY quickly. i won't bore you with the details, but there tends to be IMMEDIATE escalation and doors are slammed and i am just so tired of feeling that horrible smug, yet ashamed feeling in the pit of my stomach that i inevitably always experience after every single argument.

so tired, in fact that last Monday i just got so, SO tired that i just gave up on any even sort of rational arguing and i reckon Muffin felt the same, because we pretty much broke up for about two hours.

yeah. my life's been THAT magical.

we've both just been walking on an emotional tightrope with our own personal battles staring us down every single minute of every single day. we're both tired, uninspired and angry. not at anybody in particular, but every single tiny bit of anger, sadness and frustration that we had burst into a horrible, disgusting relationship-shifting bubble that i think we kinda needed...

maybe i'm the only one that needed it, really, but it was big and offered me a lot of insight that i hadn't realized that i'd just shut out of my life because of the mess i'd let myself get into emotionally. 

since the day i met him, eleven years ago, i have been madly in love with Muffin and knew that he was the person that i was meant to see my oldest years with. there's never been anybody that i'd be willing to love as blindly as i have him. in the time i've known him i have seen him cheat on me, lie to me and break countless hearts, and you know what? i'd forgive him anything if it meant just a little more time with him.

at least that's what i THOUGHT i felt. it wasn't until last Monday that i realized that i've been holding him emotionally hostage and it's been destroying our relationship. i've been accusing him and hurting him making being with me nearly unbearable, all under the personal thought that i was making things better. i've been arguing blindly with him, not allowing him to offer me any input because i felt justified after what HE had put ME through. i just bulled on ahead with my own agenda, thinking it was helping, and not at all realizing that i was very slowly chipping away at the foundation that our lives were built on.

for months i've been searching aimlessly through countless internet sites trying to find the answers to questions i didn't even have the words to voice. why he was acting the way he was, why he wouldn't change and why he was so angry when he was the one who made the mistakes in the first place... i spent so much time focusing on what HE was doing wrong that i never took the time to stop and ask myself what in the world i was doing to fix things. i was just sitting back, expecting HIM to change, not even toying with the idea that i might need to step up and help. i was so focused on the hurt that he had inflicted on me that rather than letting the wound heal, i would just pick it and pick it and pick it, never, ever giving it a chance to scab over and get better.

last week helped me realize just how volatile i had become... just how difficult i had made life for the both of us. now, we're working together to make things good again. we're working and taking really great steps toward a better life.


the awesome thing? now, since i've stopped hounding him and feeling the need to monitor his every move, i've found myself feeling so much lighter and less strained. i've found myself with more time to crochet and paint and prepare for school (which starts in just over a month!!) i've found myself with the time and strength i was missing for ME, which is awesome.


things aren't perfect right now, but they are most absolutely on the right track. we hit the hideous rock-bottom we needed to and now we're headed back to where we need to be and i couldn't be happier to see the horizon.

my father's day

sunday was a beautiful day, one i had been planning for weeks.

once Muffin had gone to bed saturday night i stole away to the dining room and pulled out the collection of photos, schoolworks and drawings that i had accumulated from my personal detective work and from his ex-wife (who i've developed a very special and still slightly uneasy bond with, btw. she's wonderful and we've been talking very regularly, which resulted in her sending a cute folder full of Molly's school photos and work for me to give to Muffin on father's day, a folder which i am very, very grateful for.). i hung a collection of photos and letters i'd made and packed all the best bits of everything else into a folder that i laid next to where he sleeps, for him to see upon waking.

once i woke i spent the day trying to avoid thinking... just allowing myself to become enveloped in the absolute bliss that i had created for Muffin... i carefully manufactured the day around him and the fact that he is a dad who gets very little recognition.

he smiled and was so happy. he told me it was the best father's day he'd ever had. he thanked me over and over.

but jesusgod did my heart start hurting towards the end of the day when a careless comment was said... a comment that was not intended to break my heart, but that did just that, so very well.

we were strapping into the car, i was buckling my seatbelt when, as Muffin was musing about what a special day i had arranged for him, he turned to me and said, "just you wait until next mother's day..."

i instantly ached and did my regular sassy thing that resulted in me accidentally saying something rather passive aggressive, unintentionally, that... hm, i don't want to say "hurt," but set him to think... i told him that there's nothing to look forward to because i am not a mother and most likely never will be, especially not within the next eleven months.

on a side note, and to explain my doom-like view of our childrearing future, it's worth stating that i've developed a sense of disregard when it comes to ANY pregnancy/birth/kid-related conversations because the constant struggle we have for keeping our OWN heads afloat doesn't bode well for any future in keeping a tiny muffin's head also afloat alongside us. our financial situation combined with the fact that he CAN'T give me a baby has jaded me and broken that typically always-hopeful outlook i used to have re: babymaking.

i spend the bulk of my days now reflecting on the fact that so many people have babies or children they don't want and i will most likely never have even one. Origami has three... one she never, ever sees and two she sees about once every two years, leaving the gaps in between face-to-face visits without phone calls or letters. one of Muffin's soldiers is pregnant and cares so little about the tiny life inside of her that she tries to "jokingly" offer it to anyone she can, insisting on smoking and ignoring the fact that she is everyday creating parts of a tiny life that she will never love nearly as much as i ever could. i have so much love that i could give... such a huge part of me constantly yearns for a tiny danie. every single thing that i do every day casts me into the same thought pattern of how i would form my habits and hobbies around a child... how i would teach them, how i would hold them, what morals i would attempt to offer them. all these thoughts and what ifs and dreams are nearly always sucked into the black hole that is my reality, that i will most likely never get that chance. i will most likely never have a child of my own that i can raise from a tiny pea-sized thing in my tummy to an adult that i can be proud of.

i then began to cry. as i changed from third to fourth gear, my eyes did that horrible stinging thing and the back of my throat tightened and hurt as a couple of very chubby little tears blazed a trail down the crevice of my nose to my chin. i immediately wished i had my sunglasses on and proceeded to pretend nothing was happening with my face and tried to avoid sniffling at all costs, for the thought of having to go through that conversation was just far too painful... for me, nothing is too hard to discuss, no topic is hidden in the shadows, but this one. i avoid it so carefully that i could easily win a tournament in it, were it made into an official sport.

as we walked into taco bell he persisted. he asked me how i felt about adoption and i tried so hard to just focus on the burrito i was distracting myself with. he asked about what other options there were... options i have researched time and time again, if only to offer myself a sense of what can only result in false hope for me. i told him there was no point in thinking about any reversal of his "snip" as the likelihood of birth defects is increased by forty percent after ten years...

and you know, even if we could one day create a baby of our own, it would never be what we had talked about so many years ago. it would be clinical and only take place after thousands of dollars were spent on fertility treatments and doctor's appointments.

and whilst it was really a wonderful twenty-four hours for him, this father's day only served as a reminder to me that he HAS children that i will never have and that the women he has children with have a special bond with MY future husband that i never, ever will, and that is to be able to create a baby in the most primal and personal ways...

i will never be able to hope one day that the fruit of one of our intimate sessions would result in a tiny version of us, leaving me with a missed period and needing a pregnancy test, because he's eradicated any chance of that. i will never be able to surprise him with the news that i'm pregnant, because doctors will most likely make that announcement to us, in an office, surrounded by diplomas and office supplies. most likely, i will never be able to lose this tiny bit of resentment i have for each of the mothers of his children for being able to do with him what i have always wanted...

the possum

it was 04:48 and i was exhausted and reeling from a very special little morning argument when Muffin told me about him. seeing that we were in the middle of a tiff, i replied with sass, determined to show absolutely no interest in the half-dead possum that may or may not be laying a mere eighteen yards from me. SURELY the fact that i expressed no desire to look at/photograph/hold the dead thing that was laying just by our post boxes would show him that i was pissed off for realsies and it would prove i was more justified and steadfast in the argument and perhaps he would then apologize (yes, danie's before-five brain works in a really special way)

i laid in bed imagining the possum i had seen dead on the side of the road several months ago. it was a desperately cold morning and i was making a pilgrimage to the supermarket for foodstuffs for dinner. he was laying there, completely frozen, and i was compelled to sit with him for many reasons. i'd never seen a possum in real life, he was frozen (which meant he was PERFECT for taking home and taxidermying) and he looked like he was smiling. photos occurred and for the next six weeks i hated myself for not picking him up that first morning every single time we passed by him.

twenty agonizing minutes passed with me thinking about the first possum and i felt i had no choice but to leap up and attempt to catch a glimpse of him through my bedroom window. i could see nothing. i re-checked the text that confirmed the possum was indeed by our mailboxes. i glances out the window once more before advising Booger (my morningtime sleeping buddy) that i just had to go have a look... for research purposes (an excuse i use to explain away mostly everything).

i stepped out my front door and onto my porch, taking in the dawn's fresh, cold air and felt giddy almost exactly at the same moment i saw him laying there, curled into a tiny ball, directly in the middle of the driveway. 

i cautiously walked up to him, attempting desperately to scour my internal encyclopedia for whatever information i may have retained about possums. something told me that they're terribly aggressive and my caution instantly turned into terror as i slowed my advances toward him. i started explaining to him what i was doing, play-by-play, as if i could de-escalate any potential altercations with my words...

it was his eyes that distressed me. they looked so pained and sad. i was too scared to get too near to him, i watched from a short distance and took a photo. i watched to see how steady his breathing was, took one more photo and pranced back to the house. i sighed happily because of how warm it was in my living room after having been out in the brisk morning air. the guilt instantly consumed me and i grabbed a blanket and marched outside with itt.

as i walked up to him i rationalized with him again and he allowed me to pick him up with the big blanket without any hassle and i carried him to the porch, wrapped him up warm and went in to get him some water.

after i laid the bowl of water next to him i sat and talked with him. i felt very connected to him at that time, which might be why i felt it was so necessary to save him from the indignity of dying right there in the middle of the road where everybody could see. i felt like i had to make him feel like someone cared. i know animals don't rationalize things like that, but a small part of me likes the thought that the little guy would be grateful for being wrapped up and put in a sheltered area away from more harm. or maybe i did it because that's what i feel like i need right now...

i feel a little like i needed to do that for him because i understand... i felt like i knew his pain he was lonely, hurting and tired. i've been feeling a lot of similar things the last couple of weeks and i would relish a little TLC like that. someone to talk to me, hold me and make me feel safe and warm. so maybe i did it because i'm hoping karma will come back to me and offer me something in kind. maybe.

meh.

she would have been...

yesterday, my mum would have turned sixty-five.

for the last two weeks i've been battling some rather ugly emotions surrounding my mum and the fact that this was the sixth birthday of hers that she's missed. the sixth birthday that we've not gathered as a family and celebrated the fact that she was another year older with a pile of suitably tacky fibre-optic angels and country-music cd's.

to everyone it's just another day now. not a day for celebrating or eating cake. it's a day of nothing special for anyone but me, it seems.


my mind's been a mess, thinking about her and waking from dreams of her being alive. dreams that have make me spend the following morning doubled-over, missing her face and her hugs.

i've been attempting to dissect the things i've been experiencing in the last several weeks and all i can conclude is that she's gone and there was nothing i could have done about it. one day she was there and then she wasn't... she was ill, in hospital and i was five thousand miles away and completely helpless. all i did was stop calling as often because it was too painful for me, not thinking about the pain she was having to endure. 

whilst i was in england it was easier for me to hide from her pain. i didn't have to listen to countless doctors listing the new medications they would try. i didn't have to see her arms covered in bruises left in the wake of medications that made her skin fragile as a peach. over there i could happily prance through the supermarket without having to see her favourite type of bread, which would inevitably leave me feeling that familiar pang of loss in my chest from knowing that my time helping her with her shopping was cut horribly short because i left and she became more ill.

being back for her birthday has only really awarded me the chance to feel guilty for all the things i didn't tell her, all the times i didn't ring and all the photos i didn't take.

in an attempt to create some sort of connection and reason for my grieving this long after her death, i've been contacting my family to see how they're dealing with the loss... what they were planning to do for her birthday. i spoke to my sisters, grandparents and aunty... most of them didn't even seem to remember or want to mention that it was her birthday.

ladonna was the only one who mentioned our mum. she said that it's not her birthday that upsets her, but more the anniversary of her death (august thirty-first). i tried to understand why THAT day, the day we've only had to live with for six years, was more emotional for her than the day that was celebrated with a combination of hugs, tacky romance novels and red lobster for fifty-nine years.

i sought to grasp how the fact that we will never, ever be able to go and see her in her room filled with too many stuffed animals, arms filled with presents wrapped in glittery wrapping-paper... something we celebrated every year that i have been alive, could be less emotional than a day that we all had anticipated and grieved for already.

obviously, i don't think her pain is unjust, because i absolutely do still feel horrible botheration when that last day in august finally arrives and i am forced to remember that final phone call and the fact that i felt so helpless. i feel a pain that i wish so hard i could take away. i wish that i could go back in time and buy a ticket home the day she went back in the hospital so i could have been there, holding her hand and actually saying goodbye to her... making sure that she KNEW i loved her.

i so often feel like i wronged her for not having been there. for leaving to pursue my own future when i knew she was so fragile and needed me. i look at photos from her last birthday and i almost hate my sisters for having been able to be there. for having been able to spend the day listening to her talk and watching her smile.

that's what i miss the most. her smile. it was so simple and beautiful and she offered it so often for no reason other than that she was alive.

so, here i am, a day after she would have turned sixty-five... wishing i'd not missed so much, but also, hoping so much that she knows i still love her and think about her every single day. one day, hopefully, this will get easier.

three hundred and sixty-five.

fifty-two weeks ago Muffin and i were in england.

fifty-two weeks ago Muffin and i were laid in bed at around eight in the morning, watching one another's faces and reveling in the fact that we were together, finally, after all these years.

fifty-two weeks ago Muffin and i were touching one another's faces and whispering little vocal love notes into one another's ears.

fifty-two weeks ago Muffin asked me, officially, to be his girlface.

in those fifty-two weeks so many things have come to pass. emotions, hair colours, accommodations and countries. it's been a scary, fun, intimidating and overall completely beautiful.

i've been thinking how to best reflect on the last year and i think, for me, the best way to do it would be for me to reflect on the months individually... see what i processed and have a nice, clear vision of what i've gone through to get to this point. to this place where i feel more confident, safe and in love with my relationship with every passing day.

so, let's get this show on the road. it might be ugly, it might not. we'll see.

march 2010

the last time i saw him was yesterday morning, 29^th March at 0708am...

we held one another in the queue together until I wasn’t allowed to be snuggled up to him anymore and then we held one another over the barrier until he was too far up the queue to be able to touch me anymore... even then he left the queue three times to come hold me and kiss me. The final kiss was the best one… I held the left side of his face with my right hand and kissed him as hard as I could. My left arm wrapped as tight around him as possible. I held my breath and memorized every single detail that I could in the seventeen seconds we held the kiss… I memorized the smell, his eyes, his lips, the taste, his hands on me… everything. My mind scrambled in a million difference directions in an effort to commit every single detail possible to memory. 

I dragged myself up the stairs and stood at my bedroom door for two minutes before holding my breath and going in… I stepped past the threshold and waited… performed an internal investigation to see what emotions my body was going to throw at me… I meandered around the room, touching everything I could remember him touching, smelling everything I thought might smell like him. I flicked on my PC and stared at it… not really sure what to do. I opened my email and started writing him… within three words I started to cry again.
all i knew how to do at that moment was cry. I sat, slumped in my chair and stared at the photo on my desktop.

April 2010

'well there are plenty of other boys out there that you can be with...'

this sentence was actually said to me by the muffin about an hour ago...

obviously, if you are an avid reader of my blog, you will know that muffin has been fixed... this is old news, but news that muffin has been dealing with by sweeping it under the carpet anytime the topic of children might possibly rear it's ugly head. a topic he is understandably jumpy around due to our history...

he said this and my heart sank... i had absolutely no idea what to say in response to this, so i said nothing. i remained silent and he babbled about something and then said the phone was about to die. i said okay and that i loved him and hung up.

On this day, at this time in twenty-four weeks I could very well be back in america… 

The only thing that keeps me sane through all these thoughts is the knowledge that just slightly over a year after my departure from all things English I will be returning with Muffin… he and I will return to the world of accents and Scotch Eggs. We will return and endeavour to begin a new life with a new culture and a new world to explore… 

May 2010 

In 100 days I will not have to worry about when my citizenship will be coming through.
In 100 days I will not have to worry about whether I have enough money to get the bus to work.
In 100 days I will not have to worry about when I will purchase my ticket back or how I will get to the airport…
 In 100 days all I will need to worry about how how good I look when I land and the first thing I will say when I see him again.

the date has changed because the thought of being away from Muffin for much longer than that kills me... actually kills small parts of me. i look at him now and it just fucking aches that i can't put my arms around him. it makes my body actually feel physical pain to know that he is 3,000 miles away and it is not possible to go all Master Fantastic on him and reach over to Iraq and pick him up and snuggle him.

so, because of distance, because of time and because my tiny heart is so, SO sick of hurting, i will fly direct into Seattle in 100 days and be greeted by my Muffin FINALLY with the knowledge that this is for forever. we will NOT be forced to part due to the ARMY or a treatment facility or anything... we will finally be allowed to be together, just the two of us, for the rest of our lives if we so choose. the prospect of this makes me so ecstatic. 

when he muses with me about picking me up and tells me that he will be 'driving me home,' it makes my heart do a little hoopity dance that i can't help but love. i adore him and i adore everything that we will be doing together. 

    

June 2010

In seventy-seven days, I’m leaving… 

I HATE it when one of us has a series of busy days, because typically the other one of us has the tendency to get quite clingy and needy and I can’t deal with that. I love when we talk and I love the fact that he and I are pretty much constantly on the same wavelength… what I DON’T love is the fact that he is most likely going to read this and freak out and think immediately that I hate him and don’t want to move to america. I so do, but whilst all of my time here is winding down and his time in Iraq is winding down we are talking less and less and it is hurting more and more. I feel disconnected, lonely and tired. I guess I am just incredibly worried that I will arrive in america and all the things I had been hoping for will have completely dissipated due to the lack of contact and we will have nothing left but a bit of sexual frustration which has to halt eventually like most things. I worry that I will arrive and all of these eggs that I have put in my basket will just get tossed around and broken and then what will I be left with? Nothing. I’ll be back where I started… 

this isn't to say that i don't want to go to america and give it a go still... this isn't meant to be taken to say that i am staying in england and never talking to dane again... this should be taken for the fact that i am finally, for once in my life REALLY thinking about what i am doing (wait, does this mean I am ACTUALLY a human, capable of rational thought processes?! WHAAAAAAAAT?!)
  

several weeks back Muffin had told me that he was busy and that he didn’t have the time to contact me as much as I wanted and that he worried if we had to go a day without talking I would fall to pieces. Well, ever the spiteful little lady, I spent the following two days not talking to him, purely to show him that I was able to do it. since then I’ve severely cut down my talk-time with him which has, in turn, left him emailing me less and… well… let’s just say we only really talk during the brief calls he makes to my mobile, which SHOULD be good enough, but when he spent the first two or three months grooming me with between three and six LONG and incredibly emotional, lovely emails a day and photos and videos and OMG… 

I’ve been left feeling a little like a deflated balloon. I’d gotten so used to having him there, always sending me emails and taking photos and things… 

Now, I just feel complacent. I feel like I’ve backed off SO MUCH that we’ve created a distance that makes me feel really ugly inside. I don’t feel as excited as I used to when I see him come online…. I still DO get excited, but nothing like I used to. People at work have started to notice that I don’t talk about him as much and I guess I just generally have this fear that when I get to america it’s either going to be incredibly good or really, REALLY bad. 

I am aware that I am most likely in a tizzy at the moment because I am scared. I realize that perhaps my mind is creating this fabulous series of doubts in an effort to stop it from having to process all the scary stuff, I AM going to persevere… I AM going to go to america and I AM going to give this time with Muffin a proper go. I know I would regret it for the rest of my life if I didn’t. 

I officially now have an email in my inbox worth £512. 

I find it baffling that I can spend such a vast amount of money and have so very little to show for it. Like, if I had something really substantial like a pony or a dolphin as a result of that transaction, I would feel much more satisfied, but overall, it is a massive anti-climax… I had built-up the tension about booking a ticket, worried myself sleepless most nights thinking about leaving, desperately hoping that the purchase of this ticket would magically make all the little twinges go and quell every little concern I had.
No.
Now I still find myself concerned and still have twinges, but am half-a-grand poorer. 

I’ve since handed in my resignation and I officially finish work at half past four on Monday 23^rd August.
And there we are. I officially leave my favourite place in the entire world in fifty-eight days.
At half past three on the morning of August 26^th I will be drunkenly bundling all m y favourite people into a hired van after a night of celebrating the birth of my Pow and my last night in the country. We will nearly all be in fancy-dress and we will (hopefully) make it to the airport for four in the morning. it will be an emotional affair that will most likely break my heart harder than it was broken when I left america. The people I have bonded with over the last six years have grown to be so special to me and the thought of living without them bloody kills me. 

...we are strong in our convictions, support and respect for one another. Our history is beautiful and has built us up as a couple that can withstand most anything because of what we have seen and endured both together and individually.
But when you travel out, there’s a layer that makes-up about 1/28^th of the rock that is a little out of control and that you just can’t maintain, no matter how hard you try… bits keep falling off. Like if you were to take a bowling ball, cover it in maple syrup and then roll it around in corn flakes then play catch with it. The bits just won’t stay on and things just get messy.
The main reason this layer is so out of control is because of the distance and time since we’ve seen one another…
The time for words has now expired and they seem to have become mechanical and monotonous for me. 

I need human interaction and warmth from Muffin.

In fifty-seven days I will be there for him like nobody ever has been.
I will love him as gently as he needs it and show him that it is possible for someone to be there for him unconditionally and selflessly.
In fifty-seven days I am going to be everything he ever wanted and I can’t wait. 

July 2010 

so, I’ve not heard his voice since last Wednesday. That’s the first point. The second point is that I am a needy loose-cannon who needs to get a freaking grip.

’m not just terrified… I am both excited and terrified. Like, I am SO superpumped to see what it will be like to live with Muffin… so excited to see how many kisses we will be able to fit into a day and how many cuddles we’ll have. I can’t WAIT to have his arms, voice and body within arm’s reach at most given moments… to finally have all of this rubbish ocean malarkey out of the way and to just be able to be with one another. I honestly can’t wait. No matter how scared I am, I know that what I will feel when I finally get to go and be with him with no pending date for departure will be so, so much bigger and make any doubts, worries and whatever else my mind can conjure completely disappear. He’s my world and I can’t wait to actually start my life with him.  

...she asked how things have been with Muffin… I said they hadn’t been great. I outlined the roughdraft of that essay by discussing the lack of contact, the busy-ness and the fact that he seems to enjoy participating in leisure activities with his estranged spouse (going to gigs, meals out and generally hanging around).
Now, I don’t want to sound unreasonable, as I KNOW he is living with her and I KNOW that some interaction is unavoidable, as I have been there myself with my own special version of “The Estranged,” but in my opinion, there are two problems with the situation.

I think for a week I was setting my mind into position of “defeated” before it had even begun though…  preparing myself for coming back on my return flight and wondering why I was even bothering going in the first place. I had played-out a scenario in my head that saw me stay here and live the fabulous single life for a while… being promiscuous, decadent and some other adjective I can’t even think of at the moment. For a week I had seriously considered calling it all off, so terrified of the possibility of it not working that I didn’t even want to bother because we would both just end up getting hurt anyways. I had lost the will to get excited when I heard his voice, forgotten how to say “I love you” and not sound bored… 

Since then, over the weekend, I am finding the weight noticeably lifted… I have been focusing on the more positive things… realizing that I shouldn’t expect things from my relationship, but rather be grateful for the things that I get…. The emails, photos, videos, phone calls. Despite their rarity, they are such beautiful little sparkly parts of my day... or maybe that’s because of their rarity? I love Muffin and really, honestly want to give this a go so I can see what kind of a perfect thing we can create together… some sort of magical super-couple that has seen ten years pass with every possible obstacle in their way but with love persevering at full speed. 

August 2010

five days ago today, i was somewhere over the atlantic. i was still drunk and my eyeballs were still puffy from saying goodbye to all my favourites. i had taken six 10mg valium and just wanted to sleep but was distracted by the DISGUSTING woman sat next to me who refused to take her stupid neck-pillow-thing off, even whilst walking down the airplane aisle to her seat.
five hours ago i was in the middle of a jet-lag coma, certain i would never come out of it. i laid on the bed and apologized profusely to Muffin for being so tired. my head just simply refuses to play nicely with the Pacific time zone. i keep waking up when i would wake up in england...

Muffin is wonderful but has been over-compensating and feels the need to constantly try to impress me with the sights and points of interest in the area, when all i really want to do is sit and... actually, i've no idea what i want to do. at the end of a shopping trip or a mince around town i come home and just feel lost. i am here, in this house that is unfamiliar to me, has a distinct lack of my THINGS (because i'm a fucking retard who didn't pack until the last minute whilst she was drunk and weepy, thanks Nick, by the way). i've placed my fake teeth on the shelf and my books are over there on that chair, but it still doesn't feel like HOME.

being with Muffin is really, REALLY nice, but still feels incredibly strange. i keep picking out stupid faults and i don't know if it is because i'm scared and want to go home or if it's because i really, honestly am trying to look out for ME this time. i was laid in bed with him this evening, on my left side, nestled against his right, explaining to him that i loved him but that i really, REALLY need to be happy for me. the stupid thing? i feel guilty for saying that... for saying that i will get back on a plane in november if i am not happy. i need to be happy. i need to feel like i am thriving. i need to feel normal right now...

September 2010

two weeks had passed by a mere eleven hours and we were laid in bed.

this was thirty minutes ago.

in a sleepy haze, as my left hand drew up the entire right side of his body, he told me that i complete him.

because he was such a sleepy bear, i didn't ask for him to elaborate, but i didn't want to say anything else either... i just told him i loved him... which i do, so much.

i laid there, listening to his heart beat and sighed, the air forced out of my lungs causing a breathy scene on his tummy hair, apparently, because he stirred and asked me what i was thinking. "nothing..." was what i said...

what i was THINKING was completely different.

what i was thinking was what ways i complete him...

...here we are, danie, signing out, still scared, but kinda excited about the road ahead.

i guess at the moment i am just wondering... if i should stay here and see how it all pans out; see how this story ends. or should i jump ship again to find a destiny for me, not someone else?

i've been going through a weird phase since i've been away from washington... i began processing things re: my relationship in a stupid way and letting my imagination go wild. i've been moody with him and worried and taking a lot of that out on him, which in some ways, i could say is justified, due to the fact that the worry and mistrust is his own fault, but he REALLY doesn't deserve it. it all became calm last night... we had a long talk when LaDonna and i got home from our day's shenanigans and we talked about how honest he feels like he can be now and how much he wants to work to make things perfect for us. we talked about his other relationships and the reasons they failed and why he felt ours was special... he reassured me in a big way and when i hung up the phone, i writhed on the bed in glee until my mobile went again and he told me in a smug voice that he had written me an anniversary present and it was SOGOOD and he wished he could play it for me but he CAN'T because our anniversary isn't for several more days. all these little things, i know they're just teething problems that we'll get through eventually, i just need to keep a good head on my little shoulders about it all and make sure i don't lose sight of what's most important... although, as more days pass, it seems that a lot more importance is lying on US rather than just ME, which i am not sure what to do with, but i'll just run with it and see how it goes.

sometimes even now it all seems so foreign to me... i'll see his face and it'll take me back to that July in 2001 when we first started dating. when i walked into the McDonald's where he was employed and he made excuses to come to the front of the store to talk to me. i still can't believe it's real occasionally. 

October 2010

two weeks ago Muffin rang me and asked me if i would be willing to make a toy.  

he asked me if i would make a blue car with red racing stripes for his son. i obliged, immediately invisioning how i was going to create the most perfect, woolen piece of machinery ever for his little boy.

after many days of work and a lot of procrastination, i finished it last night.

i introduced myself and pulled the car out of my bag and Ryu immediately hopped off the jungle bars and snatched it from me, telling me it was amazing and dancing around on the rocky playarea with his new car-friend. he then came up to me and asked if i wanted to come over to play...  

again, i stopped. i had to catch my breath and realize that this was okay and that i could do this. i could spend time with this little boy. he's not a threat, he's not evil, he's just an innocent kid who wanted to play. i looked at his grandmother and she said i was more than welcome to come over. i tried to imagine all the things that could go wrong if i went over and couldn't come up with one so i took a deep breath and said, 'okay.'

...i arrived home and texted him to say that i love him and that i love his son. 

every now and again the past comes back to get me. OUR past. the past that he and i struggle so violently to escape. the past that forced us apart so abruptly eight, nine years ago. 

thousands of questions have gone unanswered over the years... questions i could turn the volume down on for a very long time, but questions that have been forced to the front of my mind since he and i have decided to give all of this a proper go.

what do i do with this? how do i deal with it? does it just go away eventually?
who knows. i guess we just have to see what thursday brings us.

i worry that over the last several weeks, whilst i was away in Cheyenne, i processed a lot of things alone and have not had any form of a safeplace or soundboard to help me to make any healthy or conscious decisions, leaving me wondering if the decisions i've made are okay and will benefit ANYONE, let alone me.  

this hit me hard because in all the time i had away in Cheyenne, and even now, five days later, i have yet to tell Muffin everything that's on my mind. i don't feel like i CAN. he just has so much going on at the moment and i don't want to have to add to it with all my crap.

i seem to have completely lost the will to fight. like a dog who's been given that final shot to be put to sleep, but still has the little bits of energy to kick or flail its limbs. i remember this feeling in England. i remember the helplessness and i want to stop it now, because it almost killed me then and right now, it seems to be accelerating and feeling worse by the day. it's stressing Muffin out and... i don't know.
he feels like he's losing me. he held me so tight last night and said he didn't know what to do. i don't even feel like it's appropriate for me to ask for anything specific anymore... i just feel stupid when he gets like that. like i've done something wrong. i feel like i shouldn't have to ASK him to do nice things... i feel like he should want to do nice things for me if he feels like he's losing me, that i'm not going to tell him what to do.

we were snuggled on the sofa after a deliciouso Arby's din din, watching a film and enjoying the fact that we've been together for seven months when Origami decided to text and say she wanted to finally pay him her half of the mobile bill, so could they meet up. she wanted to meet at Wal-Mart, so he said okay and asked if i wanted to go.

as we walked out he just kept repeating that it was awkward... i asked why and he said he didn't know. this happened three times before i said, "well, you either need to tell me why it was awkward or stop saying it, because it's doing no good and obviously you WANT to talk, but if you're not going to then please stop." or something along those lines...
he kinda told me some things and then, for some reason, announced to me that he kept a five-foot distance from her the entire time. i told him that it didn't look like it to me to which he replied, 'fuck off."
so, there we are. after a lovely seven-month anniversary day featuring him making me breakfast and us going on a workout date, we got to pander to his estranged wife and then come home to him holed-up in his "beat lab" playing guitar loudly and doing whatever else it is that he does in there...

November 2010

no matter how may cuddles, sexytimes or amazing kisses, i will always wonder how much commitment is behind it all. i've all this before, only to have it stripped from me and to have to wait eight years to have it again.

i feel stuck in this place full of mixed messages and general confusion.some days he's really, super, megaexcited about our future, and others... he's just, not.

i feel taken for granted and hurt.

wednesday night became the night that i officially learned how hard it is to be the significant other of someone in the ARMY. 

i never realized it was so hard. i never realized that i would feel so lonely and i never, ever realized how much his job would affect me.

i have a flight that i could get on at 12:50 today... a flight that will take me back to England, Franny, cider and the life that i knew as my own just over three months ago.

i would worry about Muffin and where that would leave him. i'm not completely sure how it would actually leave him as he, like Pow, seems to find it easier to joke when actually, i'm being painfully serious. i asked him several times last night how he would cope if he came home today to find me gone with my key sat on the coffee table. he joked as he snuggled under the warmth the heavy stream of water the shower was spewing at us, said he would cry for ten minutes and then get over it, move on. part of that scares me, because i believe part of that to be true. after a bit more joking he had to abruptly get out of the shower because his emotions got the better of him. as we dried i asked him what was up, what he was thinking... he said that he didn't want to lose me and that he felt like he was already losing me.

December 2010

it feels like he's hiding.

any bad things aside, he's incredibly beautiful and makes me smile bigger than anyone ever has. he's so beautiful and listens to me and loves me. things are all just so new at the moment and he's just... i love him. everything about him. he's a beautiful person and i adore the evenings that we get to spend together and the mornings i get to see him before he goes to work. it's not completely what i dreamed of yet, but it will be, i can tell. for all the fragile moments we spend together, i love him... because he knows me and i know him. we'll be okay, i can feel it in my bones. 

January 2011

he just seems to feel nothing. he doesn't seem to share the same excitement and overall enthusiasm that i do in our finally being together. he doesn't seem to have any interest in learning about me or doing things with me unless they directly benefit him. 

February 2011

this has been the first valentine's day that i feel like i've been really, absolutely in love. i spent the entire day in complete awe of how much i love Muffin... i stared at his hands and feet and nose and literally couldn't believe how much i love him. it hurts, how much i love him. he made it a perfect day and i can't seem to find enough words to thank him for giving that to me.   

...Muffin walked into the kitchen with one hand behind his back and the other holding a supermarket bag with my ham. he mumbled about flowers and how he hadn't gotten me anything huge and then pulled me close and handed me a cutesy ceramic cupcake with five carnations and a heart in it. i was immediately delighted with the glitter, cupcake and flowers and sat the gift down to kiss his face off for being a good listener when he pulled away and said, "oh dear, it looks as though this came with a ring." it was at that moment that i forgot how to speak and how to not weep.

all of this, this heavy, horrible came to a head a week or so ago when i just completely lost it with Muffin. there were tears, raised voices and a lot of honest realities expressed that worried him. since then he's tried, bless him. he's really making the effort to hold me tighter and for longer. he's really showing me that i have at least one person that loves the shit out of me and wants to see this over so i can resume normal activity.

last night i held Muffin and was terrified to let him go. i held him and he kept attempting to escape but i just pushed my face into his chest harder to stop him from leaving me and seeing my tears. i don't want to lose him, i don't want to lose myself. i am so terrified that he will see me as this broken thing and not want to wait around until i put myself back together again. i just want someone to hold me. make me feel okay. i don't want words, i don't want eye contact, just a cuddle. 

March 2011

i think for march, it's going to be better for me to just tell you things, as i don't seem to have blogged much about the last month. immediately after the last blurb up there was posted a lot of crappy-crap came to light. a lot of things that have almost caused me to leave Muffin. i very nearly walked out the door to never look back. 

the things that have happened have not been blogged about for many reasons... the pain, the discomfort and also because i just don't even know how to approach the topics. let's just say Muffin was doing some questionable things and HAD been doing those questionable things up until our eleven-month anniversary (which was an AWESOME anniversary present, btw). 

since the discovery and hideous fallout things have been amazing. things have felt a lot less secretive, mechanical and ugly. i now feel more and more every day like i can trust him. like he is being honest with me and things will be okay. 

so, all in all, despite the last year's quite severe ups and downs, it's been worth it... the year has offered me great insight into my personal strength and also into what we will be able to achieve. he's a good person who deserves to be loved as good as he gives, which i am now doing. 

hopefully, this is only the first of many anniversaries, so join me on the ride.

 

he couldn't wait...

laying in bed most of the last week or so has supplied me with some overly dramatic thoughts. ones that i refuse to act on in any sort of emotional manner, but ones that are causing me a great deal of distress overall.

i spend the early hours of most mornings with the left side of my face squished on my pillow with thoughts racing through my mind. thoughts that drive me flipping crazy overall. thoughts that i just can't seem to shake no matter how hard i try. they just prey on me like i'm a tiny injured animal who can't escape and no matter how many sleeping pills i take, they just will not go away. they just push through any sleepy haze i might be in and destroy any kind of respite i might be attempting to achieve. i only seem able to sleep during the days now, after Muffin's left for work, and even that sleep tends to be horrific and filled with dreams that i would rather not have to have (ones that feature Pow being nice to me and us reconciling, which hurts more than anything else, because i then have to wake up knowing that he still hates me and that is just something i hate to deal with. those, they are my worst nightmares right now)

they all culminated into too much for me some night last week when Muffin finally decided to come to bed after yet another five hour Black Ops spree (this seems to be his new, mostly-favourite thing to do, stay up until late, late hours and play Black Ops until i can't stay awake any longer, so i sleep). i was laid in bed attempting to sleep but not succeeding.

he came in and i was silent. i maintained my stone-wall demeanor and listened to the B-52's tell me about the rock lobster until he rustled around loudly, let out a sigh and asked me what i was thinking.

i said i wasn't thinking anything, which he instantly knew was a lie, as he has met me before and anyone who's ever met me knows that i am CONSTANTLY thinking about pretty much everything all the time.

my thinking has traveled between so many different planes of thought over the last, let's says ten days, that i just... i can't seem to get a grip on myself and what's happening in my head. i don't know what my mind is trying to do to me.

like, initially, it started out with my head tormenting me, advising me that Muffin must not love me if he is willing to spend as much time as he does wrapping himself up in computer games, website design and hiding emails from me. my brain was constantly telling me that there is no way that anyone could ever actually care about someone and then try to find as many distractions as he does just to spend time NOT with me. i became unsettled, moody and down. i cried, wrote, talked to janeyface and didn't talk to him.

THAT thinking then developed into me attempting to rationalize what he was doing, but left me completely unable to. i just found myself hurt because every single day that i am with him, i feel glee and pleased to be with him after all this time. i feel thankful for each moment that i get to spend with him, every morning his face is pressed against mine when i wake up, every night i fall asleep as the little spoon and every single tiny millisecond in between. i could happily still just sit with him and not have any other distractions but our own bodies and voices. there's still so much i want to learn about him and us.

he just seems to feel nothing. he doesn't seem to share the same excitement and overall enthusiasm that i do in our finally being together. he doesn't seem to have any interest in learning about me or doing things with me unless they directly benefit him.

we get up, i make him breakfast and lunch, he leaves for work and i tidy, cook, etc until he comes home, at which time i will shower him with kisses and love. most times the shower is brushed off for the meal i cooked and computer games. i tend to remain steadfast and sit beside him whilst he plays, hoping that he will pay attention to me and want to talk about stuff. after a few hours i typically lose interest and prance off into the bedroom in a flurry of kisses and snuggles, hoping to lure him away, but with no luck. the pillows and i cuddle alone for sometimes up to two hours before he even realizes i'm gone and comes to bed.

when i broach this or most other subjects with him he never has anything to say. he stares at me and then ignores it, which tends to leave me feeling rejected, ignored and generally like he doesn't care.


now, last night, my thinking took a sudden and more hurtful turn.

after talking about our future a couple of nights ago i realized that it will be a goddamn long time until we progress any further than "going steady" or whatever it is we're doing. this wouldn't have upset me or preyed on me so much, had we not been planning things for a long time. things that would finally make everything in the world exactly what we, or at least i, had always wanted.

that conversation harassed me for several days and then last night my mind kinda freaked out and realized that he couldn't WAIT to marry his other wives. he got those rings on their fingers as quickly as  he could but with me, no. he wants to wait. he wants to do this magical thing that he calls "right." this thing that he thinks will just make everything so completely different than the things he had before.

why can't he see that the things we have, the things i give him, are substantially greater than the things he's had before?

or are they not? am i no better? just some filler until he realizes that i'm not what he wants?

i have no idea. this is rambly and painful and i needed to get these things out of my head. i just want to feel like he's actually committed to me after all these years. that i am actually the one he plans to stick with. i have no certainties right now, and to be honest, i don't really feel that i deserve them. i just feel like right now, i'd like to talk, and be given a chance, which seems beyond us.

blargh.

Day 21 - A picture of something you wish you could forget.

i wish more than anything that i could forget the horrible words exchanged between myself and one of my best friends. words that have since ended our friendship and altered my future greatly.

The only frontier left now is the heart

Dear You...

i never thought i would have to write this.

this goodbye.

it's more painful than i ever thought it could be, but the nights are getting longer due to the weather and i need to let you out of my head so it'll hurt less in the lengthening hours.

i am writing it and posting it here knowing you will most likely never read it, but also knowing that you, in a bout of rage or emotion or whatever it was, told me you never wanted to see me or speak to me ever again. those harsh words, usually reserved for playground tantrums and menstruating spouses, have been adhered to for just over a month now.

most days and nights i can't watch films or look at photos or listen to songs because of you. because of our history.

it is almost as if more than half of my senses are completely useless because all they do is make me want to die. everything reminds me of you and our friendship and i miss it so much.

some days i have to completely eradicate any thoughts of you from my house, putting the kibosh on any of your music and any films or meals that you and i might have shared for fear that if i were to encounter any of these forbidden things on that particular day, i might fall into a heap of something weepy, painful and all together awful that i don't want to experience.

the nights that i actually do sleep are typically filled with dreams of me seeing you again, sometimes with them bringing light at the end of the tunnel and you being kind and hugging me. other times, most times, you are horrible to me and make me cry so hard in my dreamy sleep that i  rouse with tears in my eyes and nothing to hold on to because Muffin doesn't understand this kind of loss.

god knows he tries. he really tries to listen. i've explained my feelings and emotions to him over and over again and i'm afraid that even now, nearly three months later, he still cannot fully understand more than that i am hurting and have to cry from time to time. he's not experienced a loss like this, so i don't expect him to understand. he holds me, and that's good enough most of the time.


i wonder if you too struggle. if you too find yourself avoiding certain films on the shelf for fear of the memories it will recreate for you.  i'm most scared that you don't feel like i do. that you don't care that this friendship we had is completely gone and has been for over a month now.

am i so disposable that not having me there is the same as having me there?

did all the things you and i go through over the last six years mean nothing more than what a letter and a messy bedroom could easily destroy?

it seems that way. and that hurts.

just know that i miss you. god i miss you so much. i miss your voice and face and kindness. you don't have to stop being kind. please don't.

i heart you squishy. so much.

heart,
dan

"you are now being blocked by this person (click here to find out why)"

it feels like he's hiding.

i've nothing to hide from him... i'm open completely about every movement in my life from emails to photos to phone calls. everything. i do that because that's what i feel a relationship should be. no secrets or anything hidden. i had that with Christopher and it ultimately helped to ruin us.

but Muffin... i feel like i am completely not a part of his life outside of the things that i can DO for him. things that sometimes feel forced behind closed doors. doors that are more often than not closed by his own hand.

daily, i am stuck in this house with nothing to do but laundry, dishes, hoovering and cooking. i've no money and no means to do anything outside of the house beyond walking to the post box at 15:04 (give or take a few minutes) and, when i've got food stamps, to the supermarket to buy more things to cook with.

all of this, the daily routines i seem to have gotten myself stuck in play out week after week. he's out of the house more often than he's in and when he IS in, the time is spent with little or no talking unless i initiate it. i noticed this the other day when i was in the middle of talking and noticed that he hadn't said ANYTHING about his day, despite him having been out of the house for over twenty-four hours and having more than 170 facebook friends (i bring this up because, weather he likes it or not, i update him on even the little things that happen with my friends that i think are special and should be shared, but him, nothing. it's like NONE of them ever do ANYTHING noteworthy at all, ever), he just had nothing not even a peep.

i tell him about even the most little things that might be weird or i think he may be able to offer me insight or support on, like emails from people that are questionable or comments that leave me feeling uncomfortable. but anytime he checks his emails, he does it VERY secretly and is quick to act in an odd way when i walk into the room and his emails are open. which leaves me asking questions, which i don't like. it's either that he hasn't received one SINGLE email in the last three months or that he just doesn't care to share that part of his life with me. which makes me wonder why i bother sharing those parts of my life with him?

i tell him about my days and emotions and life and he rarely has anything to say when i say those words that he's no doubt just as tired of hearing as i am so absolutely tired of saying: "So, how was YOUR day?" or "What have YOU been up to?"

those and any questions like them tend to be met with a sleepy gaze and shrug or are completely ignored.

getting any information out of him is like pulling teeth.

i try to be proactive in his life and help him to see that i'm here to support him and listen to him, but he offers me nothing to go on without me having to more-or-less drag it out of him tiny detail by tiny detail. it's a painstakingly long process that i don't bother doing as often anymore because i feel like i deserve better than that. i feel like i deserve to be respected and to have him WANT to tell me the details of his life because he WANTS me to be a part of it... not because i hassled him until he broke and told me.

he hides things, things which i've found out in round-about ways, things which, to my mind, didn't need hiding. i can understand that he's most likely just so USED to having to hide things that he just does it as the norm, but for me, it's lies. that's what it breaks down to plainly. lies.

i heart simplifying things.

the big things that i notice he's just NOT talking about, which worry me because they are huge things that really, need to be talked about are as follows:

Molly... for whatever reason, he is still very secretive about all things Re: his daughter, which confuses me because he was perfectly fine with me going and hanging out for hours with his son, who he is not really at all close with, but he will do all he can to hide photos of her from me and avoid calling her unless i am out of the room or he is out of the house. it hurts that he is just completely unwilling to discuss anything to do with her at all. the only time i ever get any updates on her is if i extract the information via his famous one-word answers, which tends to take longer than the meager details he even offers me are worth, which makes me wonder why i bothered in the first place. i feel like it is incredibly important that he shares more about her with me, but i feel stupid for having to ask. i feel like, this is the one other person in his life that has a bigger pull on him than i do, but i'm not allowed to know anything about her. it's not jealousy so much as just WHY?! why will he not ever tell me anything about her?! i just don't get it. it feels like he's setting me up to fail when i meet her... like he's not preparing me in any way at all to meet her, which, perhaps is his plan? is that me being rash or over-thinking? perhaps. but with all the blocking he's doing, what else can i think?

his divorce... like, once. that's the number of times he's come to me for support on his emotions or feelings toward his divorce. when i was going through all my crap with Christopher, Muffin was my numero uno, so i went to him when i needed to talk or help processing things. he was a huge help when it came to talking me through my feelings towards my divorce, but it's like he just doesn't want me to know anything at all about whatever the fuck is going on between him and Origami. he comes home occasionally after Behavioural Health appointments and tells me that it was hard because he had to talk about his divorce and then tends to scuttle off into another room after looking notably misty-eyed and sad. beyond that, he will not throw me any other bones. i ask him questions and want to talk to him about it, but he always brushes it off as though he's fine and it doesn't matter when, after seeing him get weepy the other day at the mention of his divorce, i KNOW that it's actually the complete opposite and i should just... i don't know. wait? hope he's willing to come to me EVER when it comes to any of his big stuff. is that what i should do? it feels like if i do that, it'll shove a huge wedge between us that might not offer a salvageable relationship at the end of the day. beyond all the emotional stuff, there's also the fun topic of when the FUCK her shit will be out of the house, which he never fails to make me feel guilty for asking about. she said December but that's clearly not going to happen, so i try to push a little on occasion and ask him what he's gonna do (because if it was me, i would have fucking nixed the bitch ages ago and put "return to sender" on all her post and either put all her stuff on the front lawn after notifying her that it was going to be there or at the very least, fucking billing her for the storage of her shit)... literally, every time i bring that or anything else Re: Origami up, he instantly becomes defensive and moody, which i can empathize with a little, but seriously? having the reminders of her all over the house constantly, every day, is NOT healthy for him and is NOT going to help this process go by any smoother. i don't know if that's what he wants... if he just can't or doesn't want to let go of her for some reason, but he's always quick to remind me that this is HIS house and that i don't pay any rent, which tends to make me feel awful and put me back in my place, so... yeah.

war things... right, so Muffin says he has quite bad PTSD. this comes from three trips to Iraq and seeing a lot of things... things that i know nothing about. things he refuses to tell me anything about, apart from that they are bad. well, "bad" for me is manageable. "bad" for me is something that shouldn't keep you up at night or give you nightmares or severe depression. "bad" for me is an adjective that i reserve the usage of for things like, the taste of the milk when it's gone off or the way i feel this season's Eastbound and Down ended. this is why i know that either he's just not comfortable talking to me about it or that he's... i just don't know. i don't want to push him, but he just KEEPS telling me that he's never felt more comfortable with anyone and that he trusts me more than anyone, so what's the fucking deal? am i just not ever, EVER allowed to know anything about his war stuff? he keeps saying he'll tell me, but nothing has materialized. years have passed with nothing... no information beyond the simple adjective of BAD.



like, do i have to put more than ten years into this relationship to finally have run the gauntlet enough to be awarded this and other precious information in Muffin's life? i just want to be there for him and support him and help him through things, but he just will not let me. at all.

i feel so incredibly helpless... like there's nothing i can do about it. our relationship is hidden from pretty much everyone in HIS life and... oh, i don't know. it all just feels like a big mess sometimes. particularly on days like today, where i'm pining after england and it's cold and windy outside.

i just want this all to feel okay and for us to be an actual couple... no hidden trapdoors, no secrets, no lies, just us. what we've always said we wanted.

blargh.

All Weak...

i tend to find the judgements i cast upon myself to be incredibly harsh ones and not at all healthy. i sit here, day after day, assessing the things that i think and the expectations i hold, always marking the final drafts of those exams with a massive, red FAIL!

daily i see myself judging all of these unfulfilled expectations i have with a heavy and austere hand that offers little or no mercy to the tiny danie inside of me that just needs holding sometimes.

i wonder more and more often lately what i am doing and why i am doing it. who exactly i am existing for.

when i'm alone or in certain company i find myself feeling strong and sure of the tasks ahead of me, capable of mapping out the paths i must travel to achieve the things that will lead me to some sort of salvation. the problem is that when it actually comes down to the action part of the plan, my confidence immediately collapses and i end up feeling stupid and petty for having wanted or having felt something. someone will say something or pull a face that will completely crush all of my logic and desire, leaving me with a big, empty nothing in my arms that i have to try to explain. i HATE having to explain myself, especially when i am approaching something with such confidence, only to have it belittled and destroyed. it's this lack of ability that worries me about what my future will look like.

currently, i don't know what my future holds. i am constantly reviewing the things i have in my life. i have been for the last three weeks. mostly, today, though, i am questioning England and all the things i thought i had there and all the things i thought i was leaving behind. i speak to people i thought i was closer to and wonder if i just WANTED there to be something important and special there so i didn't feel so alone. i wonder if a lot of the special moments and friendships i spoke so highly of in the months preceding my departure were just fabrications, musings created by my own mind to help me sleep easier at night and to ultimately try to sabotage my progression subconsciously ("progression" being me moving back to America, Muffin and general life advancement).

all the relationships i THOUGHT i had and held in such high regard seem to have completely fallen apart since my departure and others that i hadn't embraced as much are developing and making me wish i'd expanded or tried harder before my time in the land of accents ran out.

at the end of the day, that's what it always comes down to for me, trying harder. i constantly feel like i need to do all the work and put all the effort in for fear that if i don't, i will lose this THING, this stupid THING (i don't even know what it is, it's just a THING) that, i guess, allows me to prove to myself that i am worth it, that i exist. like i NEED certain friends or objects in my life to prove i am valid and have achieved something.

it's not good and it's not healthy, what i'm doing, this emotional terrorism i am committing, putting myself through.

a huge thought i've been having is whether i should bother going back to England at all now. speaking (or, in some cases, NOT speaking) to people i thought i was so close to before i left has resulted in me feeling empty and wondering either what all the fuss was about or where it all went. a great deal of harsh words have been passed between myself and people i thought i was close to, people i loved. words that have made me question myself more than i can remember ever questioning myself. words that have left me wondering if all the effort i have put in, all the time, love and work, has actually been a waste.

i seem to have completely lost Pow... i'd rather not go into details, but just know it seems to be gone for many reasons. it was gone three weeks ago when i spoke to him on Skype and it's just dilapidated from there. all i've been left with from the ruin of that is a lot of empty and hurt. i felt the relationship he and i had was much bigger than what it seems to have turned out to be and now, i WANT to throw all my toys out of the pram and cause a scene, but really, i know i need to deal with this, whatever it is, with as much caution as i can, so as to salvage any small bits of the beautiful we had together so i can piece them into a semblance of a memory in years to come.

so, after losing Pow, what else do i have there? Janey? she's on her way here... Nick? i've not heard from him in ages. since leaving England i've heard from a small handful of people, many of which i've not expected at all, and the rest of them seem to have fallen off the face of the earth. i guess all i have left, apart from this handful of people, are passing friendships that are meaningful, but can be visited in two-week increments.

all the dreams i have at night have lately been pictures of doom and gloom for England. friends and people that i love abandoning me, hurting me or forgetting about me. i wake most mornings to a furrowed brow and tense muscles, sometimes unable to decipher the real from the dream in the first several minutes of being conscious, leaving me feeling guilty and wondering what i've done to deserve this.

i've abandoned attempting to contact a lot of the people i loved most before i left England because i don't understand what's gone wrong and it just results in me feeling pathetic and worthless... wondering why people can so easily just forget about me and ignore me.

i guess i just feel like right now, tonight, i need validation, like i need someone to tell me that i am going to be okay, but very few people are willing to offer me that kindness. this is where my old therapist would tell me that i need to seek those things within myself, but how am i meant to achieve that when i spend so much time questioning things and beating myself up?

i just feel so weak. so, so weak.

me and the trapped crickets, we don't trust you

it happens at least once a day... my mind decides to freak the FUCK out and stop trusting him for like, two minutes.

i'll be fine, sitting around, leading a normal life, existing with relatively sane mental-processes when my brain will suddenly over-analyze something ridiculous and i will immdiately develop a distrust for Muffin and the things he does.

i remember, prior to my leaving England and prior to Pow and Amy's breakup, i used to scold Pow constantly for his paranoid ideations. i know that whilst this isn't QUITE the same (as his went far and beyond what could be considered sane), and whilst mine have actually turned out true once or three times, i still, every time, hate myself a little for not putting everything into him and doubting him, even for those two minutes a day.

i occasionally find myself terrified of loving him completely. i'll watch him and things will pop into my head and remind me of all the emotions i went through when he broke my heart in the past... i remember how i promised myself i'd never trust him again.

they are unreasonable, my ideations, and i am aware of this. just one night after i left for Cheyenne, i had a freak-out that made me stop and actually have to scold myself for being so silly.

he had told me that Origami was coming over to pick some stuff up and about twenty minutes after she was due to arrive he sent me a photo of himself in bed, telling me how much he missed me and showing me a "view from danie's side of the bed." instantly, my brain said to me, "Wait, Origami wouldn't be gone by now, i bet she's convinced him to sleep with her and he had her take that photo so he could make you believe he was going to bed when REALLY he's sleeping with her and didn't want to arouse suspicion." the freakout was only heightened when he wouldn't respond to my texts and i didn't hear from him for over an hour. he calmed me and my mind was settled for the time, but i still hate that i find myself having these little distrust episodes so often.

it occurred to me late at night, the saturday before last... i was laid in my step-neice's old bedroom listening to the songs of the crickets that had gotten themselves trapped in the window-well. the movements of their wings creating their songs drew me through my thought processes... the processes that made me worry that there might be something broken in me that won't allow me to trust Muffin, that i might be forever doomed to live a life like Pow, filled with distrust, scepticism and paranoia. for two hours i laid in that bed with a sleeping child next to me (Paige, neice), worrying that my incessant concerns would drive Muffin away and ruin this thing that we have that i hold so, SO special.

i worried but... i don't know. i still worry, but the moments of worrying are but a few minutes in a day full of perpetual reassurance and love.

i worried, but i know that the things i worry about aren't completely without just cause. it's an awful thing to say, but i would find myself feeling more crazy were i to be worrying so much if we had no history. instead, we HAVE had a history, and a rocky one at that, and that fact makes me feel like, whilst still quite unfair to him, i am processing things. not living in a world of fantasy, but living in reality and contemplating things with a clear (although sometimes irrational) head.

i guess with my time away from him i have been given time to reflect on a relationship that has been "real" for the last four weeks. real in that i have been here and we have been living together, on the same continent, and existing as a real-life kinda-couple.

the time has been beautiful and better than i expected it would be. the time has made me more confident, more in love and more happy. the time has made me trust that Muffin is someone i COULD spend the rest of my forever with.

but as everyone knows, i love to over-think things... everything. and i have a LOT of time to do that currently, with LaDonna and Heyward at work all day and just sitting around a lot. the over-thinking leaves my brain a great deal of time to worry and paint very vivid pictures of things that could be happening in my absence. i know it's not fair on him, but i can't help it. with all the time that i have known him, i have only known things to result in my heart being broken, so i find myself worrying about the day that my brain is SURE will come, when he will do something REALLY stupid and mess all of this up.

i worry about when i go away because anytime i've gone away in the past, he's abandonded me or hurt me... when i went into the home he lost hope and joined the ARMY and had babies. when i went to the seaside for ten days he married Origami. they're two very excellent examples. obviously, i'm aware that it's unfair of me to think that he would have waited for me all the time i was in the home or kept his word in 2007, but i guess the scars from being burned are still there and i am reminded of them in times when i am in a similar situation.

i love The Muffin, and like i've said in countless blogs, i just worry and have a stupidly vivid imagination.

currently, today, Muffin is my life and i've no doubt that we'll be old and senile together one day, once i've crossed this hurdle and gotten my head out of this place that only causes tension and upset in a world that should only really be filled with kisses, cuddles and lovenotes.

it doesn't have to be beautiful...

Well hello Tuesday… I must first apologise for neglecting you… I have been in no fit state of mind to be able to type out a list of things that I love for the last three weeks. I feel like this week I have to, not for anyone else, but for me… I need to be able to see a tangible list of things in my life that are good and are worth smiling for…
The last four days have left me feeling like I’ve been kicked down and beaten up… I feel fragile, used, broken and like I am dealing with all the junk going on in my life all alone.
The bulk of my stress/sad/blah comes from the fact that Stacey (housemate and big, fat lazy pig extraordinaire) has decided to tell me that she’s had her hours cut and that she will be moving out of the house in the next three weeks. Awesome. This has left me feeling frustrated and hard-done-by for many, MANY reasons, the biggest being the fact that when I was her age, I was living on my own in a flat and working two jobs which saw me awake from eight at night until half past four the next afternoon… I was working these two jobs happily to pay my rent and save up to move continents.
Clearly, though… the prospect of living for oneself is just a little too much for our dear Stacey to deal with… clearly it is easier for her to just to go live with her brother when she hits a spot of trouble claiming she wants to ‘be independent.’
Oh yes, I can absolutely see how she would feel independent by deciding to immediately run back to her family the second she sees any slight hint of crisis… and I can totally see how independence is gained by being unwilling to get a job collecting glasses at a local pub two nights a week to make up the difference of the hours being cut…
She attempted to talk it down by saying that her hours might get put back up again to which I said, ‘well, then let’s work it out so you just pay a third of the rent and bills until then…’ 
Her reply was to the effect of, ‘but I was planning to enrol in uni anyways…’
‘Yes, but it is FAR too late to be able to enrol for this year now, Stacey… you won’t be able to start until next year.’
‘errrrrrrr…’ **retarded, distant gaze**
So, whilst I was initially sad about the prospect of being forced to leave my favourite house in the world, I am now just disgusted with the fact that I have allowed someone into my life that has absolutely no drive to better themselves in the face of any form of adversity. I should have seen it from the beginning, when she came to look around and all she cared about when I asked if she had any questions was if I liked to party… I should have seen the signs immediately when the pink, wooden ‘GURLZ ONLY’ sign went on her door and when she told me that she didn’t actually have a bank account. But no, I gave her the benefit of the doubt and she has royally screwed me.
Now, I sit in wait, wondering what the heck I am going to do with myself… how I am going to find someone to move in with such short notice and how, if I can’t find someone to move in or somewhere to move that soon, I will pay the rent next month with enough money to eat or feed chevy.
Now, because I’m NOT a retard, I know that I can get a second job, which I will be enquiring about in the very near future… checking in at the local pubs and seeing about glass-collecting or generally pulling pints. Urgh. we’ll see.
Now, no castle of crap would be complete without a moat of fabulous stress… one could call it septic waste. A moat comprised of arguments with Muffin about molly, emotional conversations with the ex-husband and feelings of abandonment from her closest friend. I try quite hard to look beyond the moat at things further afield… things that are brighter and more made of win, but occasionally, I get a little stuck…
Let’s look at the horizon starting now… let’s see what beautiful things create the landscape of my life… 
courgette and chocolate chip bread
Fry’s Chocolate Cream chocolate bars… first bought in a moment of desperation whilst craving something of the cocoa variety during the later hours of a workies afternoon, this chocolate bar has supplied me now with countless happy afternoons… it’s beautifully bitter dark chocolate outer-layer gently snuggling the fondant centre… oh my LORD. Perfection!
Brother’s Toffee Apple Cider
hoovering
getting free tattoos
REALLY cold cans of cola
Dough Balls from Pizza Express
graph paper
talking to strangers
weird news articles
watching ‘Kick Ass’ with Pow
the Yeti I created for Pow’s advert with Dave
people-watching
colouring my hair
Bar One
Coke Zero
belching
Nick Parker
days that are sunny but  cool outside
having an undercut
live music
the feeling of my tummy growling
how well Pow and I work together
how different my handwriting can be on any given day
creamy cocktails
the fact that I passed my test
lovely texts from Pow
my red scarf
cinnamon
nice conversations with Chris
feeling loved
baby horses
John Goncalves
Valium sleeps
Jim Carrey 

Buddy, the dog from Bar One
being licked by dogs
Franny 
The Queen
homemade foccaccia bread
cinema dates
really good talks with Pow
hanging out with the tattoo boys
good bass lines
Guildhall Market
the smell of Pow's house
the fact that i have made a (good) name for myself within many communities... it only really hit me when i've gone out the last several times and found that people who i've never met know of me and call me by name as the cupcake lady or Honeybun... it pleases me and makes me feel like perhaps i've accomplished something wonderful, no matter how small.
karaoke
Acropolis greasy spoon
seeing people's reactions when i change my haircolour
when Pow sings improvised songs to me
Come Dine With Me
morbid taxidermy
carbonated water
my ipod
audio-typing
rows of daffodills
baby's breath flowers
getting flowers from Muffin... mmm, yes, this lucky little girl got another collection of flowers from the love of her life... flowers featuring lilies and baby's breath... they were the perfect addition to a day that was originally made of fail.
crocheting tiny zoo creatures
my house
knowing i'm leaving for Seattle in 108 days... yes, plans have changed again... big plans, but  i think it will be for the best. danie will be leaving england and flying directly into Seattle on the 26th of August... not to fret though, my tiny wyoming creatures, we will be driving out for a week-long stay and then i will be flying out again for another two weeks after that for OMGBEASTWEDDING! it is exciting but making me fucking tense to think that i have JUST over 100 days to square all the crap in my life away... fuck.
realizing i'm a strong person

 the ducks... yes, my current favourite thing in the world... the ducks... for weeks... perhaps months i have been planning my newest tattoo... three ducks that are the very kitchy symbol of hilda ogden from Coronation Street. these ducks would be my tattoo to mark myself becoming an english citizen... these ducks would also go on my head. the tattoo itself took place two weeks ago... janey, Pow and i had a sleepover the night before and attended breakfast in the morning in preparation for my newest ink babies. i was more nervous for this tattoo than i had ever been for any tattoo ever, in my life. sitting in the chair waiting to have the transfers placed on my scalp i was shitting myself... concerned i might vomit right there on the floor of the tattoo shop. transfers on i settled into the seat and for the next four hours i was in a state of shock for how little having a needle scraped across my scalp hurt. once it was finished i was alarmed again by how little it hurt and how quickly it had healed... within one week it was nearly completely  healed... no scabbing, little flaking and omgsomuch wonderful. i love them so much!