January 2019

We have a new year. Excellent. Now let’s see how many months it takes me this time to remember there is now a 9 instead of the 8. Probably until 2020 and then I will be entirely screwd because two numbers change at once. So far, the year has started off not too badly. There are some changes on the horizon in regards to work, which will mean bye bye to night shifts (at least to a large degree) and regular working hours, so more time for family and friends. More regularity and hopefully decent nights sleep again which is needed direly.

NYE was a rather lovely affair, we stayed in, made pizza from scratch and watched Deadpool 1 and 2. In pyjamas. Kids loved it, I loved it, just what we all needed. In general it has been a very chilled week – our au pair has returned which is rather good as I am always worried we scare them off and school is around the corner again too. Christmas has gone mostly back in the loft, but I still haven’t said good bye to the tree or my nutcracker collection. The second will probably stay, but the first mentioned will have to diappear soon, it would be nice to be able to move again in the lounge.

What is not so lovely is that Mr Cat after his little operation has decided to spray again and the amount of washing I need to do is driving me absolutely insane. Plus the smell is horrendous. Really, really horrendous. I’m not entirely sure what to do about it but I think he will have to sleep in the kitchen from now on, close to his bathroom.

There was a minor set back from one of the dads of my tribe, but as it was conveyed on Sunday and on closer inspection appears to be a lot of rubbish, I am not entirely certain how this is going to play out until I have investigated it further and conveniently for said person, it’s impossible to do so on a Sunday. I am a little concerned but for now I am not panicking just yet as I can’t be certain yet what is going on.

One thing happened this week that makes me thinks though this is going to be a good year. Several years ago I fell out with some friends as the guy was behaving in a rather unpleasant way. I have seen him around but we have always chosen to ignore each other. We happened to cross paths this week and he came up to me and apologised for his behaviour back then. We had a brief conversation and then parted ways but I do admit it left me with a pretty good feeling.

On Sunday I finally caught up with an old friend of mine, ordering pizza and drinking non-alcoholic Prosecco on the sofa while putting the world to rights. A good end to the first week of the year if you ask me. If this is how it’s going to play out, I’m good. Here’s to that.

It’s a very apt feature image this week, a rather fitting metaphor for myself in the middle of the night. Bright lights. As in I am wide awake, in no relevance to how utterly tired and exhausted I am. The same routine every night of tiredness and initial sleep, followed by some lightning stroke in my head about an hour later and me being wide awake for the rest of it.

School started again this week so life should go back to normal. But it has not and after two months of working mainly nights and too many of them at that, neither mind nor body can handle this lack of nocturnal rest particularly well. Not at all really.

I have gone through this week in Zombie mode, dangling from one day to the next but not really paying attention to what’s going on. A good thing has happened, that I am itching to tell the world but it’s not quite wrapped up yet and I don’t want to jinx it.

I had the best intentions of starting spring cleaning by the stroke of January 1st, which if I’m lucky will be completed by Christmas. And I downloaded the Couch to 5k onto my phone so I can finally get my backside into gear again and do some proper exercise but so far – you can guess – that has not happened yet either. Any leftover motivation you have, please send it my way, I am in dire use of it.

Friday the boys go to stay with their dads for the weekend and although I miss them like mad, I am glad I can spend the next couple of days not doing much and at least try to catch up on this elusive thing called sleep. I’ve tried the warm bath, the no internet or TV (yes, believe it or not I am capable of doing that), the hot chocolate, the herbal tea – you name it, I tried it and nothing has helped. This is not such a great start to the new year and I really hope it improves and pronto at that.

After a whole week of lethargy, I did feel obliged to do something on Sunday. The weather wasn’t too bad, I had to leave the house anyway to pick up Son C from his Dad so I decided a little detour would do me good. My choice fell on Highgate Cemetery. East, as West is only accessible by guided tour and I thought to best leave that for the summer. Karl Marx is buried here, looking down oversized and sternly from his headstone but then dying is serious business I guess so he has every right to look a bit grumpy.  I have a thing for old cemeteries, the withered old headstones with their decaying beauty fascinate me. It would be an utter exaggeration to say my little wander made me feel invigorated, but it did blow some cobwebs out of my head. I also discovered soft sugar and cinnamon pretzels that afternoon, which was a surprising taste sensation, I intend to have again soon.

What. A. Week. After not seeing each other since November for a number of reasons, Monday had been date day with the Cowboy, only that he had to cancel due to attending hospital with an ‘allergic reaction’ (no joke). After dutifully texting me regularly the previous weeks, he went back to his silent routine and eventually on Friday, things came to a head yet again.

Let’s address the inbetween first however. On Tuesday, I went for afternoon tea at Podium, the restaurant at the Hilton on Park Lane and it was absolutely fabulous. A chocolate chip scone with salted butter ganache was just what the doctor ordered. It was a birthday treat for a good friend of mine and we followed it up by a visit to the Sky Garden. We both had never been and the views are really spectacular.

The rest of the week just plodded along with the beginning of a massive clear out as in the five years in our house we have accumulated incredible amounts of random stuff. I think I might get banned from the local recycling centre soon.

Fast forward to Friday. Cowboy and me wanted to play the week by ear with a view to meeting up then if he was better. But my asks about his well being were ignored until I finally asked him Friday evening if we should call it a day as I just had had enough. I’m not bloody Rapunzel waiting in some tower. Unsurprisingly, it was all too much for him again and he said yes, let’s split. I wasn’t even particularly shocked or surprised. The one thing I asked though that, after two years of seeing each other, he would have the decency to sit down in a pub with me and tell me to my face why it was better to not see each other anymore. Like a grownup. Like a man. As it turned out he is neither.

Saturday morning had begun with him assuring me he still loved me, telling me how lovely I was and he was just not in a position to be in a relationship or be able to give me anything back which I deserved so much and how much guilt he felt about all that. Then I asked him about his ‘friend’. And it all changed. He got angry and insulting.

I thought about how to handle this all night Saturday. I did still believe him she was just his friend, but I also had to make sure there was just no going back for us this time. I could not do this a third time and I know myself well enough that I would have fallen into the same routine again. So I decided to send her a message, briefly explaining who I was and asked her to look out for him as he wasn’t in a good place right now. I knew he wouldn’t forgive me this intrusion into his personal life and that was what I needed to ensure our ties remained severed forever.

To cut this story short while it is still unfolding, she was not his friend but rather his girlfriend of the past seven years.

I guess this week will stick for a long time, for all the wrong reasons. A total headfuck from start to finish. And it still continues even if I’d like to eradicate it from my mind entirely and just forget about it.

I spend most of this week texting back and forth with the official girlfriend (or should I say now ex-girlfriend), because let’s face it if I like it or not, I was the other woman for those two years. And I wasn’t the only one either. Cowboy Steve has been a busy guy indeed. No wonder he was always tired. And quite frankly, how someone can be as calculating, manipulative and just so shit a being a human being, I cannot get my head round. Although, I don’t think this guy qualifies for the term human. He is infinitely substandard to that.

I managed to muddle through work, I admit to falling of the waggon and consuming a large amount of alcohol which in turn made me feel even more shit, because I know to stay well clear of it and yes, I had a couple of good cries. There has been hardly any food touching the insides of my stomach either and I don’t care too much about this either.

On Friday, we met at a pub near Victoria and talked. And drank. And realised even more all those little things we noticed he did which we could have picked up on but he explained them away and we believed it. Because it still is hard to understand how it is possible for someone to get up in the morning and look at themselves in the mirror. Obviously it is. We know now.

What makes it even worse is that she is absolutely lovely. A clever, pretty girl who put herself through uni, carved out a great career for herself and has been waiting for this c*** to make good on his promises. No matter how bad this is for me, it’s infinitely worse for her.

I know I had a very lucky escape here. This could easily have continued like this. Thank god it’s over. One thing I know for certain though. I have no grace in me when it comes to Cowboy Steve. No forgetting, no forgiveness, no understanding, no indifference. He made me part of something, I would always have walked away from if I had known the truth. I really hope he dies a slow, painful and lonely death after a long, miserable and empty life. The irony is, if he had been honest when I first raised my suspicions, yes I would have been angry and upset, but I probably would have never contacted her because I would not have wanted to be the one telling on him.

I’m grateful that this has happened now. The year has only just started, so it can only get better, right? To make a point of that, I booked my birthday trip away with a friend. We are going to Madrid. That trip he promised me to Florida and Key West has to wait a bit now but it will happen.

Here is to better things. And a new week ahead.

Much love marvelous people. Candidly yours, TC.


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