...I guess Boo really is missing...

Oh dear. I've been neglecting this blog in favour of (gasp) hand written diary entries!!! It's not that I've been completely ignoring this poor little blog (let's face it, I have good intentions and have been meaning to type them all up) but lately my feelings/thoughts/life have been fast forwarded so quickly that I haven't had a chance to update here. Don't get excited...not a whole lot has changed since my last post...that is if you don't count going on holiday with TGB (the gorgeous boy) and being made redundant from my job (not effective until 17 June to qualify for redundancy payment, which if you were wondering, would just be enough to enable me to pack up and leave the UK behind without looking back...but it so happens that that isn't emotionally possible). Just wanted to let you know that I'm not dead yet...I have plans for this typepad! I just need to pull my thoughts and feelings together and send out a semi-coherent post (ahem....working on that)!

So, I'll be back quite shortly! xx

A short update...

Thankfully my stepdad's surgery went as well as could be expected, and he is now safely at home and resting his weary heart (quite literally). I'm not religious by any means (when you've worked with dead people for a while, you start to doubt the existence of any God), but I prayed a lot to something. I didn't get much sleep last week as you can imagine - but I got more than my poor mom who had to go through all of the drama ALONE. AGAIN. What's the use in having a large (albeit crazy) family if none of them are willing to step up to bat when it's needed the most?!?!? Lucky for them I'm on a different continent altogether, as me in a bad mood with my spectacularly uncensored potty mouth + them being ASS HATS = trouble (and me being taken out of numerous last will & testaments). Probably even luckier is that my days of drunken dialling are (mostly) behind me. Everyone is OK and that's all that matters in the end.

In other news, I am still making forays into the world of therapy (honestly, the man has the most vast array of cardigans and spotty socks I've ever seen). He obviously loves what he does, and must be quite good at it for me to even consider seeing him more than once (tomorrow will mark session FOUR), but it's confusing. I want to work on my (non)ability to have real relationships; he says I have to work on my relationship with myself. I'm not sure I understand precisely what this means, or exactly what it is I'm supposed to talk about. Instead of nodding in agreement, tomorrow I might bite the bullet and admit that I have absolutely no idea of how to go about that. I have, however, noticed that since I've started seeing him, that I've had the most horrid, vivid dreams about people and experiences I haven't thought about in years. Night sweats, nausea, crying in my sleep and waking up thinking it was all real...only to find myself safely tucked into bed with my gorgeous, lovely boyfriend and then the word RELIEF doesn't quite cover it. Does this mean all the stuff I've tried not to deal with in the past 10 years is slowly leaking to the surface? Ugh. Seriously

This blog hasn't been quite what I was expecting it to be. I'm funny, damnit. And I promise to get back to writing funny (sarcastic) stories soon....cause I have a whole plethora of stories to share!

I carry your heart....

My stepdad (who has been more of a father to me in 10 years than my 'real' father has ever been) is having heart surgery (again) tomorrow. Your thoughts and prayers would be much appreciated. I'm trying to be strong for my mom and for him, but really, I'd like to sit down and have a great big sob. Why is it that the people who least deserve it suffer the most? There isn't much I can do from the UK when they're in Sydney...but I'm there in thoughts and spirit. And all I can do is wait and hope.

Mom - I love you both. More than I can tell you. And CALL ME. Wish I could give you a huge hug. xoxoxoxoxox

Cupid's hit me straight between the eyes...

...who knew the little chubby man with wings had good aim?!?!? I feel like I've started this whole new bit of my life - different from anything I've ever experienced or thought that I would - and I'm terrified. But loving every minute of it. I'm falling in love. And taking a new approach to myself, my life and relationships. And even though I know that the path ahead is going to be hard and I've got a long way to go - this time I don't want to go to bed and hide from the monsters in my closet. I'm smiling for no reason...and I LIKE it!

Mr Smarty Pants may have hit the nail on the head...

Therapist - 1
(and he was wearing the same socks....maybe they're his 'Tuesday' socks)???
Boo - NIL

"Self sabotage is any behavior which thwarts your efforts to accomplish your goals. Self sabotage is when we say we want to accomplish something then go about making sure that we don’t. Self sabotage is when we work against our own best interests. Self Sabotage is Unconscious.
Most of us don’t consciously work to sabotage ourselves. We consciously work very hard to get where we want to go, but something gets in our way. That something is often ourselves and our subconscious. We subconsciously work against ourselves and this internal tug of war is often evident in our thoughts and feelings. We want to go the gym, but somehow don’t get there. We want to apply for that job, but somehow don’t manage to get our resume turned in on time. In this mental tug of war, the subconscious will always win."

Fuck me. There's a whole lot of unravelling to be done.
That is all.

To shrink, or not to shrink...

...well...today I took the plunge and actually went and saw a therapist. He was softly spoken, wearing a cardigan and blue socks with red polka dots and was really quite nice. So it turns out that maybe I'm not a hopeless case after all, and that we can work on my 'relationships', which he sensed was what I needed help with (thanks, tips). I'll write more when I've had some time to mull it over. But I feel...hopeful...

History for £500 please...

The one bit of advice that I have never forgotten, and for some strange reason has stuck with me thus far, was my nan saying to me once (when I was about 13) "In a relationship, there's always one who loves more - and frankly, it's always better to be the one who loves less". At the time (being the relationship virgin that I was) I thought this was a life mantra that I could heed and live by. The smartest piece of life advice I'd ever get. It would be easy to always be the one who loved less. And you know what? Now I'm 30 and I think it's possibly the saddest piece of advice I've ever been given. And it's always stuck. And it's always been true. Horribly pessimistic, but seemingly and undeniably true. Let's face it - the first time you "fall in love" you give yourself wholly and completely, and at 15, when you think you're an adult and have life all figured out, a massive blow to your previously unbroken heart (not to mention your ego). With each heartbreak, you give a little less, and hold back a whole lot more. The little things you were then determined to overlook before are the things that ultimately kill off a little bit of your heart and soul each time....until you look back one day and wonder at the cynical, scared, judgemental, undeserving (did I mention TERRIFIED) person that you've become. And you wake up one day and realise that every misdemeanour your heart has ever been dealt is a bulky bit of baggage and mortar that you carry on to your next encounter with love. And that makes each new relationship just that bit harder. Because like Pavlov's dog, you've learned that a certain situation leads to a certain outcome, and although you shouldn't judge one person by another person's standards, you can't help yourself. I have never claimed to be smart at love. I'd go so far as to say that I'm emotionally retarded in my real life. If anything, I am a hopeless case. All the ones I've ever wanted have never wanted me (although let's face it, the ones I've always thought I deserved and wanted have all been first class WANKERS), and all the ones that wanted me, I've never wanted, but because I felt I had the righteous higher ground, they were easy because I just didn't care all that much. And it was safer that way. For my sanity, it was easier to be with those who worshipped the ground that my mortal feet walked upon. And those who I would have (and did) walk over hot coals for? Turns out that even though my brain knew the reality, my stubborn heart refused to accept the truth, and chose instead to live in a fantasy laden Sweet Valley High novel in which a 'relationship' existed (did I also mention that whilst wallowing in my own depression that it was so much easier to live in make believe land? Being depressed is what I'm good at. It's rather comforting and familiar, and should be listed as a 'hobby' with awards and everything). And looking back? I know that I've never been in a relationship so far where there has been equal parts of love, respect, awe, friendship and sexual longing/satisfaction - I've never been with anyone (until now) who made me want to be a better person, or made me feel that with their love and support, I could conquer anything. And we won't even get into the trust issues that are simmering below my surface after being cheated on. That's a whole other blog entry waiting to be written. Sure, there's been the falling over backwards to be who I think you want me to be, along with the 'your last girlfriend did what? I shall try my hardest to be the complete opposite of that' mentality so that I can keep you and feel somehow like I've achieved some sort of crazy one-up-manship in my deranged head. And while I've been the one trying so hard to be the one that she wasn't, I managed to lose myself in the process. And now? I'm in the situation where I feel like I am the one who loves more, and I'm scared. I think about him when he's not around, and it makes me smile. I love being around him, and I can't help but touch him just because he's there and it feels like there's some magnetic force that compels me to do so. He makes me laugh. And he makes me feel beautiful. And I trust him when it comes to almost letting myself lose control in areas I've never let anyone delve in before. And despite all of that? There is a deep, dark shadow lurking in myself that I don't know how to control. The evil voice inside my head that doesn't think I deserve this happiness, and wants to convince me that I am nothing more than a passing whim, the girl that is OK for now, but in reality, he is with 'for now' whilst on the search for someone 'better'. Every text, call and email that he receives in my presence (and in my imagination) is automatically putting me on edge...because it could be from the unknown, unspoken of and imaginary 'her' - the more deserving, funnier, skinnier, saner version of myself who he really wishes he was with and is still looking for. I am a mere imposter, a stop gap, in my mind. And I am my own worst enemy. I really, really don't want to fuck this one up. I wish I could explain it better than that, but I can't. I wish that when he says things that upset me, that I could open up and state rationally why it is that I'm upset, instead of feeling like I've been punched in the stomach and might throw up and then internalise that and turn on the infamous silent treatment that I've perfected over the years, that I could say rationally that my feelings have been hurt, and that I'm petrified. I wish I could stop myself from thinking that I'm not good enough, and that if I let myself open up and shift some of that self depreciating armour, that I wouldn't feel vulnerable and unworthy of being loved. That I could feel that I was, just this one, 'enough' and didn't have to pretend to be anything other than what I am. I so much want this to be the real thing. I want this to work. And I want more than anything for this to be the one that I don't sabotage. I'm running out of countries to run away to...but what I want more than anything in this world is to just be happy. And now? I'm going to take my irrational self to bed. Because as we all know, I have to be on time for work tomorrow. One does have to pick ones battles.