OK, OK, it's now 9 Feb and this is my first post of 2011... Total fail, I know. But well. Nothing much to write, except more of the same (you know, bla, bla, lonely, bla, bla, miserable, bla, bla, fighting with my daughters, bla, bla, too much work...). So what's the point?
Well, the point is... errr... there's no point. This is my blog, I don't need to have a point. I can just write here, say what I want and not give a flying fuck what anyone else thinks (especially as virtually no one reads this shit anyway).
Winter has been pretty kind to this part of the world. There have been a few cold days, but more mild ones; a few rainy days, but waaaaay more sunny ones; and, of course, no snow days at all. Yet. I can't help long for the warm sun of spring and summer; I can't wait to start planning the summer holiday (I can't do it yet as friends are coming and I need to know their dates first). One thing is sure - no BlogHer in San Diego for me, I simply can't afford it. Maybe next year (in the hope BlogHer 2012 might be on the east coast rather than California). But I am hoping to take the girls to Italy, maybe via a friend near Marseille...
I'm also planning to turn my life around. I know I've said this before, and virtually nothing has come of it, but the process has started - I've started the big "tidy up", you just can't tell yet. I've been forced to do my accounts for 2010, so for once I'm up to date before tax season starts (this is a first); I'm going to get all my teaching materials sorted out, finish tidying the kitchen (which is already pretty good), do my room... I'd like to move furniture around, make the place FEEL different. I want to change the locks on the front door as D still has a set of keys and I don't like that ONE BIT. I want to paint walls, put up curtains, soften the lighting... CHANGE, CHANGE, CHANGE. I want to get a real haircut (not just a trim), I want to get a proper dinner service (even if it's just an IKEA one)...
This is all random and unstructured, but it's 4.30 am, I'm exhausted, drowning in texts to translate and totally incapable (still) of going to bed at a decent time.
*sigh*
I'm trying my hardest to make 2011 a better year than 2010, but it's hard, and isn't working so far (lots of tears - lots of songs make me cry, and the imminent St Valentine's day isn't helping), but I intend to persist. I'm going to make it happier - somehow.
But I can't help wishing, deep down inside, that there was a man who could love me, help me, comfort me, share jokes and chocolate with me, make me feel special. The frightening part is that it's unlikely that that will ever happen - and I'm really struggling to accept it.
Affichage des articles dont le libellé est bad days. Afficher tous les articles
Affichage des articles dont le libellé est bad days. Afficher tous les articles
mercredi 9 février 2011
vendredi 14 mai 2010
Getting all down in writing
Where to begin?
D has decided that he wants us to separate. His basis for this is that he needs his "independence" (well, yeah, OK, I can understand that the whole middle-aged-guy-with-virtually-no-income-living-off-his-"wife" thing might have got to him. Yeah, I can go with that) and that, as I have been trying to poison him (or otherwise do something to harm him physically and/or mentally, though nothing concrete has been stated), and trying to shag guys found on the internet and all other kinds of rubbish, irrational and deeply upsetting crap, he can no longer trust me about anything. According to him (on his "bad" days when he totally seems to hate me with a passion) I'm a compulsive liar, tyrant, hypocrite, bitch... who has, apparently, needed slapping on two separate occasions in the last couple of weeks. He told me (though he later retraced it) that he regrets everything about our 14 years together except for our beautiful daughters. He's seen a lawyer to get "official" separation papers and joint custody papers drawn up. He is now vaguely talking about wanting his share of the money we put down for flat back (24,000 euros!). He's irrational, unreasonable, totally unrecognisable and, on occasion, downright odious. At the ER the other night with C (she has a persistent, horrible cough and complains of headaches), the doctor examined C very superficially and then focused all his attention on D, recognising what I've already thought myself - that he's mentally ill, that his brain isn't processing information correctly, that he's misinterpreting what he believes are facts. Of course, D refutes this vehemently and refuses to see a psychiatrist. I've spoken to his pastor, who's given me the name of a counsellor that I'm going to try and see really soon (though probably not before the dreaded meeting with the lawyer). He's alienated some of our best friends (who totally agree with me, so he wants nothing to do with them. And no, I can't be blamed because he talked to them first), he's sent hideous e-mails to my best friend, M, in London saying odious things about me and refuses to retract them, he's all sweetness and light and lovey-dovey with the girls, all whilst ignoring me, he hears something I say and cackles at some private joke, as if I've once again proved his "theories" to be right.
He hasn't slept here for over a week. We've had endless "discussions" - often arguments - but neither of us will back down. I refuse, outright, to admit to any of the utter crap he accuses me of. And he refuses to accept that I'm telling the truth and says he can't trust me.
I'm trying to come to terms with the idea that I'll be spending the rest of my life alone, and that in the very near future I'll only be with my beautiful girls every other week.
There are times that I want him to come back, that I yearn for our happier times. And then there are others, when I hate him so much I could scream. He's destroying our family, he's hurting the girls, he's hurting our cat, he's fucking up our lives, all because he believes CRAP that isn't even remotely true. I'm 100% convinced he needs psychiatric help, but there' s almost no chance of that ever happening.
I'm being destroyed by the thought of only spending half my time with my babies. I can't bear the thought of it, it makes me feel sick inside. He doesn't have his own place yet (no job, no income, no benefits; he's staying with unnamed friends every night - though I know for a fact he stayed with someone in this building last night because I saw him come in at 10.30 pm and leave again this morning at 10) so the joint custody thing can't happen just yet, but it will, because he wants it so badly and isn't open to any kind of reconciliation process. This separation is "doing him good" and the fact that it's killing me and making the girls aggressive, tearful, withdrawn and unhappy is irrelevant.
My father's come (he barely knows the half of what's going on - it would kill him to think that I'm being accused of such horrors, that I've been slapped, that I've been treated so fucking badly) to stay for a whole week, which is sweet, but really tough. We're not, and have never been, a touchy-feely kind of family. I don't share emotions with my father. So, along with the fact that I'm totally overwhelmed with work, I also have to try and act as if this separation thing is actually super and fun and wanted by both of us. I'm exhausted, bled dry, a wreck.
I yearn to see my two closest friends, M and J in England, but can't afford either the time or the money to go. I booked us all a week in a gîte in Italy and have had to cancel (no return of the deposit, either, so that's 140 euros down the drain), so I probably won't be going anywhere this summer. I'd love to go and spend some time somewhere relaxing with the girls, my sweet babies, my angels, but I can't. I have to try and save up so I can take driving lessons, so I can use the car and gain in independence.
I feel like my life's in tatters right now. I'm finding it hard to concentrate, hard to be civil to D when he comes round, hard to forgive him for this totally craptastic situation that he's put us in. Of course, he blames me for it all and sees himself as the total victim. But he's a delusional, back-stabbing, mother-fucking liar. Yeah, I'm a little bitter.
I've got good friends, friends who care and who can help me, but it's the "garde alternée" that's doing me in - my babies don't have the same surname as I do, C's British passport is out of date, and L doesn't have British nationality. I swear, if D ever tries to take my babies away from me, I'll pursue him straight down to the gates of hell and back, I'll use every trick in the book to get them back.
Oh, Lord, this is such a mess. I love my dad so much, but can't wait for him to go home (next Wednesday) so I can just collapse in a blubbering mess on the floor in the evenings instead of having to make small-talk.
It's my birthday on Tuesday, and I'm dreading it. The girls want to come home from school for my birthday lunch, and I'm delighted that they do. What I don't want is D here, fouling up the atmosphere with his pointed remarks and surly looks and snide comments and private jokes and what have you. Right now, this evening, I would be quite happy for him not to do anything about my birthday whatsoever. But my father's here, so I'm not sure what's going to happen.
I'm a wreck and I don't know what to do, what to think. I feel horribly alone (yes, I said I've got friends, but the two best ones are in England, and the ones here all have kids, and work, and have their own lives, own hassles...), horribly in need of comfort, horribly scared about the future. I want my babies, I want to be with them, I want to be with them all the time.
Oh, Lord, please, stop this year from being such a suck-job, please help me find peace and happiness and freedom from all this crap, all the money problems that persist, persist, persist...
Please, help me!
D has decided that he wants us to separate. His basis for this is that he needs his "independence" (well, yeah, OK, I can understand that the whole middle-aged-guy-with-virtually-no-income-living-off-his-"wife" thing might have got to him. Yeah, I can go with that) and that, as I have been trying to poison him (or otherwise do something to harm him physically and/or mentally, though nothing concrete has been stated), and trying to shag guys found on the internet and all other kinds of rubbish, irrational and deeply upsetting crap, he can no longer trust me about anything. According to him (on his "bad" days when he totally seems to hate me with a passion) I'm a compulsive liar, tyrant, hypocrite, bitch... who has, apparently, needed slapping on two separate occasions in the last couple of weeks. He told me (though he later retraced it) that he regrets everything about our 14 years together except for our beautiful daughters. He's seen a lawyer to get "official" separation papers and joint custody papers drawn up. He is now vaguely talking about wanting his share of the money we put down for flat back (24,000 euros!). He's irrational, unreasonable, totally unrecognisable and, on occasion, downright odious. At the ER the other night with C (she has a persistent, horrible cough and complains of headaches), the doctor examined C very superficially and then focused all his attention on D, recognising what I've already thought myself - that he's mentally ill, that his brain isn't processing information correctly, that he's misinterpreting what he believes are facts. Of course, D refutes this vehemently and refuses to see a psychiatrist. I've spoken to his pastor, who's given me the name of a counsellor that I'm going to try and see really soon (though probably not before the dreaded meeting with the lawyer). He's alienated some of our best friends (who totally agree with me, so he wants nothing to do with them. And no, I can't be blamed because he talked to them first), he's sent hideous e-mails to my best friend, M, in London saying odious things about me and refuses to retract them, he's all sweetness and light and lovey-dovey with the girls, all whilst ignoring me, he hears something I say and cackles at some private joke, as if I've once again proved his "theories" to be right.
He hasn't slept here for over a week. We've had endless "discussions" - often arguments - but neither of us will back down. I refuse, outright, to admit to any of the utter crap he accuses me of. And he refuses to accept that I'm telling the truth and says he can't trust me.
I'm trying to come to terms with the idea that I'll be spending the rest of my life alone, and that in the very near future I'll only be with my beautiful girls every other week.
There are times that I want him to come back, that I yearn for our happier times. And then there are others, when I hate him so much I could scream. He's destroying our family, he's hurting the girls, he's hurting our cat, he's fucking up our lives, all because he believes CRAP that isn't even remotely true. I'm 100% convinced he needs psychiatric help, but there' s almost no chance of that ever happening.
I'm being destroyed by the thought of only spending half my time with my babies. I can't bear the thought of it, it makes me feel sick inside. He doesn't have his own place yet (no job, no income, no benefits; he's staying with unnamed friends every night - though I know for a fact he stayed with someone in this building last night because I saw him come in at 10.30 pm and leave again this morning at 10) so the joint custody thing can't happen just yet, but it will, because he wants it so badly and isn't open to any kind of reconciliation process. This separation is "doing him good" and the fact that it's killing me and making the girls aggressive, tearful, withdrawn and unhappy is irrelevant.
My father's come (he barely knows the half of what's going on - it would kill him to think that I'm being accused of such horrors, that I've been slapped, that I've been treated so fucking badly) to stay for a whole week, which is sweet, but really tough. We're not, and have never been, a touchy-feely kind of family. I don't share emotions with my father. So, along with the fact that I'm totally overwhelmed with work, I also have to try and act as if this separation thing is actually super and fun and wanted by both of us. I'm exhausted, bled dry, a wreck.
I yearn to see my two closest friends, M and J in England, but can't afford either the time or the money to go. I booked us all a week in a gîte in Italy and have had to cancel (no return of the deposit, either, so that's 140 euros down the drain), so I probably won't be going anywhere this summer. I'd love to go and spend some time somewhere relaxing with the girls, my sweet babies, my angels, but I can't. I have to try and save up so I can take driving lessons, so I can use the car and gain in independence.
I feel like my life's in tatters right now. I'm finding it hard to concentrate, hard to be civil to D when he comes round, hard to forgive him for this totally craptastic situation that he's put us in. Of course, he blames me for it all and sees himself as the total victim. But he's a delusional, back-stabbing, mother-fucking liar. Yeah, I'm a little bitter.
I've got good friends, friends who care and who can help me, but it's the "garde alternée" that's doing me in - my babies don't have the same surname as I do, C's British passport is out of date, and L doesn't have British nationality. I swear, if D ever tries to take my babies away from me, I'll pursue him straight down to the gates of hell and back, I'll use every trick in the book to get them back.
Oh, Lord, this is such a mess. I love my dad so much, but can't wait for him to go home (next Wednesday) so I can just collapse in a blubbering mess on the floor in the evenings instead of having to make small-talk.
It's my birthday on Tuesday, and I'm dreading it. The girls want to come home from school for my birthday lunch, and I'm delighted that they do. What I don't want is D here, fouling up the atmosphere with his pointed remarks and surly looks and snide comments and private jokes and what have you. Right now, this evening, I would be quite happy for him not to do anything about my birthday whatsoever. But my father's here, so I'm not sure what's going to happen.
I'm a wreck and I don't know what to do, what to think. I feel horribly alone (yes, I said I've got friends, but the two best ones are in England, and the ones here all have kids, and work, and have their own lives, own hassles...), horribly in need of comfort, horribly scared about the future. I want my babies, I want to be with them, I want to be with them all the time.
Oh, Lord, please, stop this year from being such a suck-job, please help me find peace and happiness and freedom from all this crap, all the money problems that persist, persist, persist...
Please, help me!
mardi 6 janvier 2009
Not quite as planned
But new years never are, are they?
I always, somewhat naively, assume that the start of a new year is going to make me change some, if not all, of my many bad habits. That things will change around me, that I'll suddenly find the happiness I've always seen as being strangely elusive.
But of course it's not true.
The weather - by south of France standards - is crap, I've been up late every night, up late every morning (except today, as it was back-to-school day so I had to get up for that, but of course I was back in bed by 9.30), I've gone back to my eating too much junk all night (chocolate porridge yesterday, crisps and cake tonight) and I feel lousy.
To cap it all, D and I have now had 2 very disturbing conversations - one yesterday, in which he went back to one of his favourite themes: my "lacking something". He claims it's because I'm "the most truly atheist person he's ever met", but then completed that with insinuations that I have no imagination, lack emotion, lack feeling... That I'm a fucking robot, in other words. I was really angry (though we've had this conversation many times before, usually with me ending in tears), but held back from crying and held back from making all the criticisms of him I could make (and there are many - the main one being his total incapacity to hold down any kind of money-earning activity). Bastard.
Then we had another conversation this evening, starting with C's upcoming birthday party. One of the little girls coming has a name I hate. I told D that this girl's mother had confirmed her daughter was coming and he said how he really liked the name. I then said "yes, it's great, if you're into Eastern European hookers or something", which in turn got him on to the subject of one of the times (in our first couple of years together) he was unfaithful to me. And how! It was 1998 and we were on holiday in Bulgaria. He (in my company) got talking to a group of Ukrainian women (all sluts, is my guess, but I could be wrong) and then basically told me to bugger off back to our hotel on my own. He spent the night (so he told me) with one of them (the one with the same name as the girl C has invited), came back, vaguely apologised and then, later on, laid into me for spoiling the holiday and being a bitch. I know I was spineless and pathetic and should have told him to go shove it, but I was getting desperate for a baby, had never met anyone who wanted to stay with me (what's wrong with me?!) and was terrified, at nearly 30, of never getting a chance again. So I took it on the chin and "forgave" him. Except of course I've never really forgiven him for humiliating and insulting me like that. And that means that nearly every time we argue, this hideous incident rears its ugly head.
Yeah, I have a pretty fucked up relationship with D. Sometimes I really don't think he knows me (or cares) at all. And I'm pretty sure he only stays with me because I'm the breadwinner (and always have been). And I only stay with him because I'm more or less sure I'll never find anyone else. Hardly healthy, I admit.
That said, we do seem to get along pretty well, and don't actually fight that often, despite the fact that we spend most of our time together (both working from home (though he doesn't actually work very much)). Maybe I'm just being blind, stupid and naive. But it's all I've got right now. And we have our sweet girls to think of, too.
But those two conversations have really shaken me up, thrown me down and left me in a total funk. It's nearly 3 am and I'm cold as hell, but I'm too wound up to sleep.
And, final nail in the coffin of this new year, money worries continue - many clients are just not paying me what they owe, I'm overdrawn in both my private and professional accounts and, because I'm in a funk, all I can think of is BURNING PLASTIC. Especially as the sales start here on Wednesday.
What a crap start to 2009!
I hope your new year is going better (and that mine improves!).
I always, somewhat naively, assume that the start of a new year is going to make me change some, if not all, of my many bad habits. That things will change around me, that I'll suddenly find the happiness I've always seen as being strangely elusive.
But of course it's not true.
The weather - by south of France standards - is crap, I've been up late every night, up late every morning (except today, as it was back-to-school day so I had to get up for that, but of course I was back in bed by 9.30), I've gone back to my eating too much junk all night (chocolate porridge yesterday, crisps and cake tonight) and I feel lousy.
To cap it all, D and I have now had 2 very disturbing conversations - one yesterday, in which he went back to one of his favourite themes: my "lacking something". He claims it's because I'm "the most truly atheist person he's ever met", but then completed that with insinuations that I have no imagination, lack emotion, lack feeling... That I'm a fucking robot, in other words. I was really angry (though we've had this conversation many times before, usually with me ending in tears), but held back from crying and held back from making all the criticisms of him I could make (and there are many - the main one being his total incapacity to hold down any kind of money-earning activity). Bastard.
Then we had another conversation this evening, starting with C's upcoming birthday party. One of the little girls coming has a name I hate. I told D that this girl's mother had confirmed her daughter was coming and he said how he really liked the name. I then said "yes, it's great, if you're into Eastern European hookers or something", which in turn got him on to the subject of one of the times (in our first couple of years together) he was unfaithful to me. And how! It was 1998 and we were on holiday in Bulgaria. He (in my company) got talking to a group of Ukrainian women (all sluts, is my guess, but I could be wrong) and then basically told me to bugger off back to our hotel on my own. He spent the night (so he told me) with one of them (the one with the same name as the girl C has invited), came back, vaguely apologised and then, later on, laid into me for spoiling the holiday and being a bitch. I know I was spineless and pathetic and should have told him to go shove it, but I was getting desperate for a baby, had never met anyone who wanted to stay with me (what's wrong with me?!) and was terrified, at nearly 30, of never getting a chance again. So I took it on the chin and "forgave" him. Except of course I've never really forgiven him for humiliating and insulting me like that. And that means that nearly every time we argue, this hideous incident rears its ugly head.
Yeah, I have a pretty fucked up relationship with D. Sometimes I really don't think he knows me (or cares) at all. And I'm pretty sure he only stays with me because I'm the breadwinner (and always have been). And I only stay with him because I'm more or less sure I'll never find anyone else. Hardly healthy, I admit.
That said, we do seem to get along pretty well, and don't actually fight that often, despite the fact that we spend most of our time together (both working from home (though he doesn't actually work very much)). Maybe I'm just being blind, stupid and naive. But it's all I've got right now. And we have our sweet girls to think of, too.
But those two conversations have really shaken me up, thrown me down and left me in a total funk. It's nearly 3 am and I'm cold as hell, but I'm too wound up to sleep.
And, final nail in the coffin of this new year, money worries continue - many clients are just not paying me what they owe, I'm overdrawn in both my private and professional accounts and, because I'm in a funk, all I can think of is BURNING PLASTIC. Especially as the sales start here on Wednesday.
What a crap start to 2009!
I hope your new year is going better (and that mine improves!).
vendredi 9 mai 2008
happy families
So, this was a bank holiday today in France. Should mean "nice family day out" somewhere.
But no.
This was actually a pretty crappy day here in our house.
D was in bicker mode pretty much all day, and I could feel his not-spoken-but-thought-very-loud criticism of me very consciously. L of course didn't have her nap this afternoon and D went ape - shouting, saying nasty things he didn't really mean (though how's a 4-year-old supposed to know that?), confiscating ALL her soft toys (including her beloved Lapin Jaune) but one, dealing out punishment after punishment... Horrid, really horrid.
Then we all went for a "walk" at the zoo, which was OK, except for D's general snottiness which came and went all afternoon.
Got home, D still snotty, L hideous in the car and sent straight to bed... Joyful evening, as you can imagine.
And now, D's gone to bed and still seems pissed off with me for some reason, like all this stroppiness is somehow my fault. Like to know how he figures that.
God, it's tough being in a relationship.! We've been together for 12 years (yikes!) and have had a fair number of humdinging rows, but basically we get on fine for a couple who live together and work from home together.
But that doesn't mean that sometimes I wouldn't just love to stand on the roof of our building and scream at the injustice of some of D's remarks, comments whatever.
On a more serious note (if you're going to be downbeat and frustrated, you may as well go the whole hog and be downright gloomy too, eh), sort of watched a deeply disturbing film this evening - "21 grammes".
Holy shit, it's depressing! As I wasn't really watching, I didn't really get past the "woman whose husband and two little girls get killed in an accident" part. My blood ran cold.
Especially after the panic attack I had the other day about the very same thing happening to me.
I feel sick with worry.
I've already lost one little girl. I just can't bear the thought of anything, ANYTHING, happening to C or L. They are the light of my life. I love them more than anything on earth and always will. They're bright, beautiful, kind little girls. My world.
Please keep them safe and healthy.
Please let them live happy lives.
Please.
But no.
This was actually a pretty crappy day here in our house.
D was in bicker mode pretty much all day, and I could feel his not-spoken-but-thought-very-loud criticism of me very consciously. L of course didn't have her nap this afternoon and D went ape - shouting, saying nasty things he didn't really mean (though how's a 4-year-old supposed to know that?), confiscating ALL her soft toys (including her beloved Lapin Jaune) but one, dealing out punishment after punishment... Horrid, really horrid.
Then we all went for a "walk" at the zoo, which was OK, except for D's general snottiness which came and went all afternoon.
Got home, D still snotty, L hideous in the car and sent straight to bed... Joyful evening, as you can imagine.
And now, D's gone to bed and still seems pissed off with me for some reason, like all this stroppiness is somehow my fault. Like to know how he figures that.
God, it's tough being in a relationship.! We've been together for 12 years (yikes!) and have had a fair number of humdinging rows, but basically we get on fine for a couple who live together and work from home together.
But that doesn't mean that sometimes I wouldn't just love to stand on the roof of our building and scream at the injustice of some of D's remarks, comments whatever.
On a more serious note (if you're going to be downbeat and frustrated, you may as well go the whole hog and be downright gloomy too, eh), sort of watched a deeply disturbing film this evening - "21 grammes".
Holy shit, it's depressing! As I wasn't really watching, I didn't really get past the "woman whose husband and two little girls get killed in an accident" part. My blood ran cold.
Especially after the panic attack I had the other day about the very same thing happening to me.
I feel sick with worry.
I've already lost one little girl. I just can't bear the thought of anything, ANYTHING, happening to C or L. They are the light of my life. I love them more than anything on earth and always will. They're bright, beautiful, kind little girls. My world.
Please keep them safe and healthy.
Please let them live happy lives.
Please.
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