Saturday, December 05, 2015


I think I always bought into the notion that there has to be something wrong with a relationship for someone to cheat: not getting enough [whatever], not being in love with the other person anymore, using it as a way of escaping a poor relationship (the Exit Affair).

But I have no doubts in retrospect that M loved me as much as he's capable of and was content in our relationship - he certainly didn't want to leave; I believe that.

So many times I asked him to set me free if he didn't love me and didn't want it to work, but I was asking the wrong questions. It worked to keep me in the dark enough and off-balance and hide enough that I didn't take the steps to end it before. He did love me. Just not more than himself and was prepared to take away my choices and trample my self-esteem to keep me. I don't think it was purposeful, just inadvertent as side-effects of poor impulse control, maybe.

Wednesday, November 18, 2015

Invisible woman

She looks into the mirror never seeing herself, but many different faces: a cracked kaleidoscope of flesh and features, blurring, shifting, the many masks she wears.

Stripping away the words that surround her, crumple up like leaves in her fingers and blow; away, crackling, splintered; tear away tangled shrouds of expectation to reveal the woman.
Who isn’t there.

In the stillness, in the fog of her breath, she makes out a shimmering outline yet to be filled in. The faint sketchings of shape, a susurrus in the air.

Hand me the paint brush, she says. But takes it for herself.

Saturday, November 14, 2015

Life's good

Grim, I know,  but one of the most excellent parts of not living with my ex, is how the toilet stays that much cleaner. It's not such a gross job as it used to be.

If jobs around the house go undone,  I'm not annoyed,  because there's only me to do it, and I will.

Another is the joy of my money staying in the bank and being the amount I expect it to be.

Ah me.

Having a boyfriend is pretty good. Lots of fun and attention,  lots of sex. Right now I can't imagine ever wanting to live with someone again.

Thursday, November 12, 2015

They say

"midlife crisis" like it's a bad thing. 

I beg to differ. 

Tuesday, November 10, 2015

You keep talking

You keep talking and the words blur into a pulse and I cannot think and I am trying to do something else but I'm hearing you but I cannot make out what you are saying and I do not know how to answer and your voice is filling my head and a panicked heat runs through me and you keep talking and I will not lose control but the anxiety floods and I cannot shape my thoughts into words just want you to stop and you keep talking.

Sunday, November 08, 2015


I am thinking that I want to write a little every day to get back in the habit. So, 50 words a day. Sometimes here, sometimes the other place, sometimes just in Word or on my phone. It's not a big target. It's deliberately small, in fact. I'm hoping I will exceed it regularly.

Let's see how it goes, eh?

Tuesday, October 20, 2015


How could this be?
You were bedrock, the foundations
I trusted in you
Thought you could never fail.
With your love anchoring me,
We could weather all.

You were the storm.
Says silence
I was never a rock,
Said she

But I 
Holding on...

I just


Saturday, October 17, 2015

When is it right to end a relationship?

"I think my guide is in whether a relationship promotes me to be the best version of me possible. If instead it squashes me, turns me into somebody I don't want to be or brings out the worst in me then it's the wrong relationship." - Joysmum, Mumsnet 

 All the yeses...

Friday, October 02, 2015

La Seine

FB huh?

 I appreciate there's some good(?) intention behind this sentiment, but it seems fucking weird to me that the result of all her education is apparently she's married to the president of the United States.

Hurrah, women, don't be defined by your relationships or you won't get defined by your relationship. WTF?

Friday, January 09, 2015

These metaphors

Relationships are Always motion towards a goal.
A straight sleek speeding autobahn
Zipping past the signposts for
Christmas dinner with your parents


Maybe give or take a few.
Maybe not in that order.
Although Death stays last.

Unless you’re Lazarus.
Or Rik Mayall.
He stayed dead
For two days longer than Christ, he said.
That was first time round.
Second time, he’s got it down.
(Flashheart, I can’t wait
2000 years plus.)

But Always motion towards.

Or is it always?
Can it be
Just motion.

Bed squeaking.

A carousel of bite sound scent touch.

Maybe they can be more like a roundabout off that road
But then I see us there, and roundabouts
Are really not our thing
Round and round, which exit? Which exit?
Which. Fucking. Exit?
I don’t know, I don’t know, stop asking.

Not a roundabout then.
The carousel is better because
You might not want to get off
(Of course you want to get off,
But you might not want to get off).

But even the carousel stops.

While the road isn’t so straightforward either
Forks and ways you could go but didn’t
Driven off the road by someone
In a juggernaut
Smashes and collisions
Picking up the charred flesh
And the splintered bones and
Smooshing them together

Which works

Because relationships can be pieced back
When bodies cannot be.