Did you just call me fat?

So… I’ve decided to dabble in that crazy online dating world… Everybody’s doing it… :p

And I can tell you, it’s fun. It really is… But it’s not what I need or want from life right now…

But I’ve met some crazy people – so many levels of crazy in fact… Just one week!

 I’ve been abused. I nicely told one guy, after the preliminaries… Look, you seem like such a nice guy, but you’re ten years younger and you’re looking for marriage and kids. I’ve already been there, done that… But I wish you the very best in your search… Polite, yes? Not wasting his time. So he should have said thank you… Should have… Instead, he abused me!! How dare you say what I want! I don’t want kids with you! You’re nothing but a *insert loads of expletives and name calling*. I’m new to this site and you should respect that!…. At this point, I should simply have blocked and reported… But I replied with: as someone new to this site, you need to be aware that swearing and abusing people is not ok and you will be reported and quite possibly denied access… He response? Oh, sorry… But you (yes, of course it’s my fault) are a judgmental and mean hearted woman. I spoke to you on here two months ago. You live *insert place about 50km from me* and I want everyone to know what you are like!!… Wtf?! Again, I responded… What can I say, I was tired and grumpy and it provided some distraction…. Look, you don’t know me. You’ve convinced me with someone else. You’re obviously not new to this site at all. You need to go now because you are abusive and kind of scary… He responded: admit it though, you want me don’t you?…. Wtf?! Yes, then I finally blocked him…

I’ve ‘met’ loads of awesome people too. Guys who don’t actually want to meet, they just want someone to talk to. I can do that! 🙂

But, I actually met one. Nice guy. Lives near my dad. Let’s have coffee… Still a nice guy, but no chemistry at all… So I sent a message – thanks for the coffee. Loved chatting. Would love to stay friends with you as we do get along well… His response? Sorry, I try to restrict my friends list to people who live within a few kms of me (wtf?!)…. And then, he added on… Btw… I had no real idea what you were going to look like. You could have been anorexic or obese or somewhere in between. You’re quite curvaceous. In a good sexy way… More wtf from my end… So I asked friends – what the hell does curvaceous mean? I’ve never been called that. I was ‘skinny’ pre children and ‘fat’ afterwards… The girls all thought it wa a compliment… I wasn’t convinced… So I asked the guys… They told me – there’s skinny, there’s fat, and there’s the blurry lines in between – you’re in the blur, most people don’t care, some people do…. You’re not really curvaceous… Sounds like he was covertly disappointed you weren’t skinny. So I was right, he did just call me fat! Rechecked the message and there was more – you should add that you’re curvaceous to your profile, some guys are into that kind of thing…

So! Whilst I’m slightly offended… I’m more indignant and amused. But cannot believe he just called me fat! 😂

Those moments… when someone who knows you well stops you and tells you to simply stop… and you do…

You stop. You breathe. And you realise the path of destruction you are on… self destruction.

Because yes, the last few weeks have been hard… but so have the last few years… But in these last few weeks, you’ve started to realise just how hard it has all been…

When I first saw the pics of his arms, I thought my heart would shatter… The next day, an hour and a half going over the events of the last few years, all of the years really, the moments that led to this one particular moment… That phone call… realising that maybe, just maybe, I can’t do this on my own any longer…

But it seems to be so long after the events now… and even though they still go on, it feels rather foolish to finally be seeking help… a listening ear… because I’ve made it this far without one…

But I am just so tired of it all… and I am so very, very tired of doing it on my own… because friends are always busy… but available tomorrow… or maybe next week… but they’re there… somewhere… And I know their heart is with me, but they are not… And even if I talk to them, they don’t get it, because they haven’t lived it, and there are still so many stories I just can’t tell yet…

But oh I want that ear… that shoulder… just someone to sometimes take a little of the burden… someone to call at 3 in the morning when it’s been a really, really bad night…. someone to drink that bottle (or two) of champagne that’s been in the fridge for months now just waiting for the right night and company… someone to text during arsenic hour who can make me laugh even though I want to scream… or someone to read the story, clean their teeth and convince them to stay in their damned beds just once….

So… I stopped… and I breathed… and I realised I am right their on the cusp…. and I don’t know what tomorrow will bring, or who will be left standing beside me when I choose a direction to fall…. but oh, I hope there is at least one there at the end… just one to see this through to the end….

Because I am also so very, very, very damned tired of losing so many people along the way…

 
I know I should link this to the original site, but I’ve lost it…

Anyway…

You pick a picture, one of six, and it tells you your true personality. 

True story. 

It’s on the Internet… It must be…

So this is me. And oddly, this is the conversation I’ve been having of late. Because this is me. This is the me I was meant to be. And I know this. But along the way, I took the wrong path, and I tried to be someone I’m not…

But I don’t know how to be me anymore…

I don’t know how to be strong enough to be the opposite of everything my kids think I am…

And I don’t know if the me I’ve been us the right choice, or the me I want to be is the answer…

I can’t even begin to explain that urge for freedom to people… Most just want the white picket fence and 2.2 kids… They want the dream they bought into all those years ago…

And the crazy thing is, I still actually want the fairytale. I want it all. I want the mad, passionate extraordinary love… Or loves… To go with the mad, passionate, extraordinary life… 

And I want to run, or fly, til I have no breath left inside…

 

Late night doubts…

Midnight…. and he’s just wet the bed for the first time in years… Saturated it in fact…

And the logical part of my brain is telling me it’s just a glitch… a moment in time… that it doesn’t mean anything…

And the other part of my brain tells me that something is bothering him… he’s angry.. he’s hurting… and I don’t know how to fix this either…

Because that is the problem. As a parent. I just don’t know how to fix anything anymore.

And I don’t know what the right answers are. And I don’t see the point in any of it.

In the middle of chastising or explaining, there’s a part of my brain saying – you’re an idiot… no one cares… in the scheme of things, it just doesn’t matter…

And that voice is right. It doesn’t matter. Truly.

Which is why I can’t help the mantra that just goes round and round and round… I shouldn’t have been a parent…

I still feel like I’ve stolen a life meant for someone else. Not that this isn’t my life – because it is… but I feel like I stole one meant for someone else… and that’s why none of it seems to work… not really…

And I look at these children and I know… just know… that the parents they were meant to have would have been so much better at it…

Me…

I’m not as forgiving or as understanding as people think I am…

I am tolerant…

I weigh up the relevance to my life…

I think that appears as incredibly understanding, but I’m actually not…

I’m also not as stupid as people seem to think… Why do people equate ‘nice’ with ‘stupid’? I am tolerant.

We all judge. The minute you walked in that door, I made assessments of the way you looked, dressed, walked, what you wore… I judged you. Yet people say I am not judgmental… Oh. Yes. I. Am… Very….

I just don’t see the point of me pointing this out to you… or the point in arrogantly dismissing you… You are different – that doesn’t make you better or worse than me, or even equivalent. Just different. And different can be interesting.

So when you say something, do something, wear something, make a choice, something… yes, I judge. No, I don’t often agree with it or like it. But it’s your life, not mine. And if it doesn’t have specific impact on me, I’m going to keep those thoughts to myself – most of the time…

But as I said before, I’m not stupid… I see what you hide. I notice the little things, because I am always, always aware of the little things. You can sit in front of me in a bright green jumpsuit with rabbit ears on and a flashing nose, and I’ll barely register what you are wearing or the things you say…. but I will notice your body language… and I will notice the pauses in your speech, the catches in your breath, the way your eyes falter when you rest them on a particular person, or smell a certain scent… I will notice you glance at your phone and I will see the wince… or the way you tilt the phone just slightly so I can’t see those photos clearly…

But here’s the other thing you don’t seem to realise…. and the other thing I keep mentioning… I’m really not stupid.. and even if you think you already know that, I don’t think you actually realise just how clever I am… Because you see, I can glance at your phone, and in the time it took you to think to tilt that screen, I have a clear memory of every picture on that screen… I can read upside down, too – an entire page at a time… because you see, I can glance at a page and memorise most of it – I’m slipping from lack of use so I only get around 80% of it these days… but did you notice I said upside down? Very useful in meetings, or in the doctor’s surgery… or when you leave things lying around that you don’t want me to see… as I walk nonchalantly around your home…

You see, this is the thing people just simply don’t seem to understand. I know when you are lying. When you are hiding something. I hear it in the smiley you forgot to send with your text… the fact that you read my text five times before you replied… I hear it in the tensing of your shoulders or the slight furrow between your brows, the way your eyes flick just slightly… now which side is it again? I can tell you…

But people think I am nice. They think I am so incredibly open minded and nice and tolerant and understanding…. and therefore, I must be stupid….

Watching a TV show with my 16 year old and she said – I want an Alba! My reply? Don’t we all…

An Alba. An Alice. A mother…. one of those nurturing ones…

Obviously, I am failing at meeting these needs…. although she claimed that I am a great mother, but she wants the grandmother… She has 3, none of whom she has seen or heard from in a long time…. none of whom have ever worked out the nurturing part of parenting….

It’s days like today when I particularly want an Alba of my own… or, as discussed with the teen, perhaps just someone who makes me a priority… Mild concussion, a pulled muscle in my back, too much work to catch up on and kids who need love and adoration… Today, I would love an Alba…

But do they even exist? Did they ever? This brings me to one of my favourite soap boxes… the cyclic nature of our generations.

We seem so focused on the inherent narcissism of the youth of today. So many catch phrases. So much condemnation. But! We seem to forget… someone created them…

I’m part of society’s middle child – Gen X… and I am a middle child… so I’m personally blaming the Baby Boomers. The narcissists currently ruling our society. The narcissists quick to point out the flaws of our youth, and the parents raising them…

The Battlers did it tough – two wars and the Depression… so they created an incredible world and doted on their Baby Boomer children.

These BBs then found themselves in an adult world with low interest rates, low mortgages, low cost of living, jobs aplenty… innovation and change… everything at their feet…

Then came poor Gen X – the middle children. Raised in the shadow of their glorious parents. Raised in a world of fear – the Iron Curtain, The Berlin Wall, the Cold War, AIDS and HIV…. Raised to know they were never good enough and never going to be…

And now. The BBs refuse to step aside. They insist on working – not because they need to or even because they particularly love their jobs, but because they can’t let someone else take over… take the glory…

The narcissists of the adult world – belittling others, seeing no fault in themselves, unable to let someone else have the limelight… They’ve left a world where the cost of living is no longer tenable, where housing is unaffordable for most, where jobs just can’t be found (because they won’t leave!)…. and where they look at the youth and use their favourite art form… projection….

So Alba… was she ever real? Or just the fantasy of a narcissistic generation. The projection of the self they want the world to see….

The problem with snooping, is that you learn what someone really thinks about you…

I’ve always been a big believer in privacy. My kids know that I will respect theirs completely… as long as I am not worried about their safety…

So I’ve been snooping. He doesn’t know I have access to his social media. My kids would be horrified if they knew I read his messages…. but I do try to skim them – a token to that privacy :/

But today, I read the comment “Your mum’s a ho” and he agreed…. and elaborated…. Which shouldn’t be a surprise. He’s said worse to my face…. In fact, I should be surprised – the other day he told me “Actually, you’re not a whore… You’re too f%^&ing fat and ugly for anyone to go there”…

But seeing him chat to his friends and laugh about it…

A reminder to respect his privacy I suppose… there was nothing in there to suggest he is currently in harm or feeling harmful… content and happy now that he is no longer with me…