'Tis Done

Dear Dobson,

It's taken me a few weeks to get over the frustrating disappointment of an adjournment, but I can feel a gentle shift in attitude beginning to happen. I never expected to feel optimistic about the impending new year, yet that seems to be where my mood is heading.

The 'C' word has been and gone, and it seems to have been something of a success. Mes enfants were happy and grateful; I don't know that I could have asked for anything more than that. I'm relieved. I've never much enjoyed Christmas, the pressure to have fun and feel close to those I love on one particular day is suffocating. Anyway, it's over and it was okay.

Tomorrow will mark the one year anniversary of my relationship with The Man ending. Yes, there is still unresolved business to deal with but that needs to be parked until May. I have plans to hang with some jazzers all day and all night - it will be joyful, the complete antithesis of what was happening this time last year.

Tomorrow will also mark seven months exactly since my first date with SG Guy. He blew me away with the Christmas present he gave me; beautiful, exquisite, French lingerie. I can't wait to 'try it out' when he returns to London in the new year. Things are good. It's lovely and easy.

I was reflecting on the past year last night - I think it's inevitable when a new one is on its way - and I came across a picture of The Man that had been posted on the internet. I wasn't looking for it, but perhaps I was meant to find it. He appeared more 'ordinary' than I remembered. His hairline seemed to have dramatically receded. He was smiling, but looked dead behind the eyes.

Perhaps I was meant to find it?

Frankie

Spiralling

Dear Dobson,

I have an essay to produce in sixteen days and as you might predict motivation is low, so I thought it was time to pay a visit to our sacred space. 

I have found myself wondering if this complete lack of focus is what it's like to have ADHD?  If so, it must be exhausting.  My brain only seems to be able to cope with minute pieces of information and I'm finding it frustrating.  In a bid to change this state of affairs and given my surplus of singleton hours, I have taken to watching series after series of anything in a foreign language.  As you know I'm a fan of anything dark and Scandinavian, so both series of 'The Bridge' (Bron || Broen) have been an absolute godsend.  I'm now into the third series of 'Spiral', which is also dark but French.  Watching this kind of thing forces me to engage.

My heart remains broken; my emotions feel as if they've been blasted into a million pieces - someone has kindly scooped them up and plopped them in a bucket for me, but now they have to be sifted through.  That's proving more painful than the initial blasting itself.

I am doing my utmost to be 'normal' and do 'normal' things.  Parenthood offers little space for indulgence which can be both a blessing and a curse, my singing is on the up, college is going well (essay aside), I'm back running regularly and support from friends and family is forthcoming.  However...

Going through the motions has never been my bag and there is a distinct lack of joy in most of what I do right now.  Where is the fucking joy Dobson?

Speaking of fucking, the last time that happened was Christmas night and I miss the physical contact.  Though having said that, the idea of being intimate with anyone ever again terrifies me and it all feels a bit dead from the waist down.

As I said, where is the fucking joy Dobson?

Right, I'm off to watch another couple of episodes of Spiral.  The essay can wait.

Frankie

Happy New Year My Arse

Dear Dobson,

These are difficult, desperate days and in the face of such adversity, resurrecting our online tête-à-tête seemed like the only thing to do to preserve a modicum of sanity.

When last we spoke I was on board the Love Train and life was good. It continued to be so until just after Christmas when the stoker decided to throw me off. Nothing was negotiable. Perhaps he thought I'd dodged the fare but I can honestly say I hadn't.

Heartbreak over the Christmas / New Year period is possibly the worst kind. It's that time of year when couples strive to outdo each other with overt, gaudy displays of bile-inducing affection and being involuntarily single amidst all this is akin to having bubonic plague. No-one wants to get too close in case they catch it.

This wasn't what I anticipated going into 2014. I feel as if I missed a big clue along the way; the one that said 'He's going to dump you'. And let me tell you, the man is as stubborn as his Taurus the Bull birth sign - he won't be changing his mind or compromising in any way.

I'm shocked and saddened. I believed we were good together / for each other. Our experience was obviously very different.

Initially I will try and fix myself by taking on board what the Bee Gees have to say above, but luckily for me, I've been broken before so have a few tried and tested methods of my own; good people, running, singing, my course, this blog and strength of character. To be honest I'd have preferred to be planning a holiday with my boyfriend in the new year instead of my solitary emotional recovery, but needs must.

Despite the miserable overtures, it feels good to be back here.

Frankie