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My late lack of posts notwithstanding, June has been a very “full” month. Or maybe it was so full, I had no time to put into words all that has been happening.

First came LARPing.
This may well seem a normal nerdy/geeky/dorky activity, but it entailed going back to my ex husband’s hometown, more precisely, to the exact same location where we got married. I entered the same garden, after some 400 days, all dressed up and made up again, holding a sword and a shield instead of a tulip bouquet. And there I rewrote history. What was supposed to be the quintessential remnant of failure became the symbol of new beginnings, of clean slates and second chances. It became proof that things can change, that stepping out of the loop is possible and that I am in power to manipulate my life to lead it wherever I want, even retracing steps I thought had collapsed.

Then came Vietnam.
Not Mexico, not Indonesia, Vietnam. The first proper journey after my honeymoon, my first time in Asia, my first time travelling for the simple sake of experience. And the Nth time I had to loath my mother because she HAD to say that she was scared about Maddie and I going alone, regardless of the terrorism she always triggers. Nonetheless, we are going.

Then came Marcel’s revelation.
Enough said in my previous post.

Then came the separation hearing.
I decided I didn’t want to think about it. Or rather, I just didn’t, as I know all too well that I can’t really control where my thoughts are headed. It was basically like getting married: it’s not the ceremony, it’s the decision to do it that changes the state of things. So yeah, it felt like a mountain on my shoulders to say “no” when the judge asked looking straight in my eyes whether a reconciliation was possible. But it didn’t change things, it didn’t feel as if it was wrong, or too soon, or uncertain.
Later that night I had dinner with my ex husband and we talked a lot, probably more freely than I’d ever done before. Because I have analysed the whole situation more, because I feel more detached now, because it is plain to see that it was the right and the only choice. The fact that he is desperately trying to get a new job at the other end of the planet does scare me, because even if he denies it, it speaks volumes of what he wants from me right now. And while it’s true that not much would change in terms of practical arrangements, it makes me wonder whether a do-not-resuscitate approach would be smarter and more proper.

Then came New York.
The reign of tanned, tattooed, trained, totally awesome biceps… and ugly faces.
Every one asks me if I liked the city and I don’t really know what to answer, because really, it wasn’t that much about the city. It was about facing an intercontinental flight alone for the first time after 13 years, it was about strengthening a friendship, it was about doing something good for myself as travelling can be. And I did like the city. When my flight approached JFK I had a glimpse of the skyline and all I could think about was “why the hell haven’t I thought of this sooner?”. But it wasn’t just for the Empire State and the Chrysler, it was about wondering why I had stopped travelling altogether, because this is something I have so rarely done with my ex husband. The excitement that a new travel brings is unparalleled and I needed this sweet escape the day after my separation hearing. And yes, I couldn’t help looking at men while I was there. It must have been the whole Sex-and-the-City effect, I thought men in NYC would be great. I was wrong. Don’t get offended, I am sure there are plenty of wonderful males out there and I just lacked serendipity but I was just a little disappointed, I expected… you know… the American dream. Sorry guys, Europeans do it much better.
But oh man, the sushi was great!

Then came my new therapist.
In retrospect, June was a “good” month: I was relatively calm and positive, probably due to all the innovations and the decisions taken. But May wasn’t and in one of the deep pits where I fell, I realised it could be a good idea to join group therapy sessions. So I asked my current therapists for a reference and ended up at my first appointment. It is all part of that master plan where I physically need to engage in attempts to help myself get out of this hard place where I have found myself in for the past few months. It was uncommon and foreign, but somehow illuminating.
He acts like the typical psychiatrist: he spits out comments and conclusions about your life which you cannot contradict, regardless of their accuracy; because he’s the doctor and if you don’t agree it’s just because you’re not accepting the reality of things. After three years of therapy and being the introspective person I am, one who’s no longer afraid of even the darkest and scariest truths of the human mind, I don’t really appreciate that, but I suppose it won’t be such a burden in a group environment. Plus, thank Sa, his conclusions were mostly correct in the first place.
The interesting thing was finding myself wrapping up the effects of a three-year-long journey through my mind and soul and discovering just how many things have indeed changed. How many things I managed to change. Perspective gave me hope. Once again I could see that I am the kind to get what she wants, I usually do, and this is no different. I wanted to get better, to change, and I have. My troubles right now are very different from what they used to be. Surviving is not a problem anymore, the task at hand is rounding the edges, getting closer to perfection, getting reality closer to dreams and desires. The way I can see my issues now… I am so much more perceptive. Every day I get closer to new answers and new revelations. And it surprised me to no end that what I have been trying to do for myself in the past six months was indeed correct. I have been praised for the idea itself of seeking a group therapy, since relating to peers is exactly what I need to get out of my cage. In order to step forward I need to step back, reconnect to the very place where my past took a wrong turn, where I became anxious to be a grown up and skipped the rest. That rest, where you take relationships with the opposite sex lightly, where you make mistakes to learn from them, where play is more important than being serious, where my peers help me choose my beaten track, not people from other generations.

So at 32 I LARP, so I get a tattoo, so I try to meet and know and talk to as many people as I can, so I try to seduce strangers and fuck as many different men as I can, so I skate to give my little-girl-self the satisfaction to wear a costume and try to win a competition.
So I regress. Because I need to step forward.

Words are a private thing to me. When I write, I tear down every barrier between my brain, my soul and my hands. When I read, it’s like a private conversation between me and the author, who suddenly becomes my best friend, muse and spiritual guide. I think and meditate much more while I write and read than during any kind of conversation. Talking is more like venting, the magic happens when I’m quiet and thoughtful.

I have read “Eat, pray, love”. Read, because watching the movie wasn’t enough. I thought there was some serendipity in watching the movie, since that happened maybe just a couple of months ago and the reason was just that Renée had told me about Javier Bardem, who I had never seen before and I was curious. I was fascinated because it talks about divorce caused by not so practical reasons, just like my separation, but I didn’t see any other connection. I just hoped I could end up like her and find someone else to love.

Then came Hector with his yoga and his meditation and Sybil with her plan to change our summer destination from Mexico to Indonesia. Then it hit me. So I said to myself: ok fine, you win, I’ll read it.

Read is not the correct verb though, what I’m doing with this book resembles more what a religious person might do with Holy Scriptures: a mix of reading, studying, interiorising, comparing the contents to my own life, learning from it, exploiting it as a guide. Ms. Gilbert has become my teacher, as only someone who has “been there” can be.

I try to spot differences and similarities so that I can evaluate if I can adopt the same strategies or avoid the same mistakes. I don’t know if it’s a useless waste of time or if it may actually help me in the long run, but at least it’s keeping my mind occupied with a potential plan towards healing.


It’s not the fact that she tells about her divorce, a divorce can happen for hundreds of reason, the interesting thing is that she wanted to leave her husband for personal reasons, for introspective reasons. He didn’t cheat on her, he didn’t mistreat her, they didn’t fight all the time, she just realised out of the blue that it wasn’t working anymore and she had the courage to step out of an otherwise functional relationship,  an average marriage which may have been completely satisfactory to most wives, basically on a hunch.

And I understand. It’s the exact same choice I’ve made and I understand the doubt, the conflict, the weight of being the one to splinter the glass castle out of what seems to be no reason at all, although we know, with every fiber of our body, that it’s the necessary step to take.

It might be too early to tell, but I am just grateful that he’s not making it so hard; I have no idea if she ever doubted what she was doing, if she ever had second thoughts, but I am led to believe that if she didn’t, it was also because she realised it wasn’t worth giving a second chance to someone who turned out to be an enemy. This door is still open to me, but I haven’t decided if I want to go through it yet. Leaving someone behind is easier once you see their real face is way uglier than you thought. When this doesn’t happen, there will always be the shadow of doubt in the back of your head that the choice you’ve made might be wrong. But you still know it’s not good enough either.

In my case, the problem is the opposite: he is not making it hard, he is making it too easy. He accepted everything passively not trying even once to say no. He is still never making his voice heard. Not only he doesn’t talk about what he thinks and feels, which is perfectly in line with his nature, he doesn’t even try to stop the process, to prevent us from growing apart. He is just not there. And in the back of my mind I can’t help but thinking about all the times I have wondered if he would have fought for me, given the necessity, and how scared I was at the idea that he wouldn’t have. Because somehow I knew he wouldn’t have.


The strange thing is that it looks like rebound, but it’s not. I haven’t found my David yet, and I wonder if I ever will, may he be an actual rebound or not. At first, I thought it would be Coach, but obviously it hasn’t turned out that way. Then came Hector, but it didm’t turn out that way either. And the list goes on and the title hasn’t been awarded yet.

She stated she was one of those girls who always had a boyfriend, practicing the famous Tarzan Move: grabbing the next liane right after if not even before dropping the previous one. So it’s perfectly in style that she found another partner right after the former. It’s never been like that to me. My partners were like islands in the Pacific, rari nantes in gurgite vasto. I’ve never had a rebound, or if I did, it was only in my imagination. Just like Coach.

She needed to break the spell and try to be alone because she had never been alone in her life. Do I actually need the same treatment? I realise I have to overcome this ancestral fear of being alone; as I know I do, do I necessarily need to be alone to make it? Of course, I mustn’t make the same mistakes again, I have already dwelled in a relationship too long for fear of being alone. This means, I shouldn’t and won’t move in with the next guy straight away, I am going to need months to think this over. But then again, who knows when the next guy will come…

Will the next guy be a rebound? I guess it depends on when he’s coming around in the first place, if it’s going to take 4 months, it couldn’t be. If it’s now, maybe. Or maybe not, considering all of the thoughts of my awakening. Maybe what I need to find is peace of mind more than peace of body; I need to learn to find balance, interest, enthusiasm and tranquillity even when my heart is completely empty, when I couldn’t name a single guy I am interested in. I need to find focus on projects which have nothing to do with love.


I am not the only one. I may venture a guess and say that all of this story is so meaningful to me just because my story just like hers was full of mental issues. I am not sure I can say I suffer from depression, I have actually never been clearly diagnosed or rather I have never cared to know the diagnosis, but concentrated much more on what I could do to get better. She had to resort to therapy and antidepressants because of the pain brought by the divorce and the tumultuous relationship with David, so after. I’ve done this before. And I’m still doing it.

I wonder, and deeply hope, that this is going to prevent me from hitting rock bottom. It’s the last thing I need. This is supposed to be the  beginning of a journey and I would very much like to treat it as such, not something I’ll need the next two years to recover from. This is supposed to be me all grown up and aware of myself choosing another path, it’s not supposed to be the monster which is going to eat away all of the progress done in the past 3 years. I wonder if it would be a good idea to consider drugs right now, because I can count on very limited resources and unloading some of the weight might be for the best. Cutting myself some slack, for a change.


Of course, when you’re single you are lonely, or rather, you tend to feel lonely, but in this she has a clear advantage over me. It looks like she has a way with people and everyone ends up liking her. She has friends in every corner of the world, she admits to having a keen proclivity towards making new friends everywhere; even this thing of always being in a relationship is astounding proof of her marvellous social skills (yes, I am severely envious).

Mine suck. Not only most of my anxiety comes from the very idea of being alone, I find it extremely hard to connect with new people, either for friendship or romance. If I were to leave for an unknown country, or rather three, for a whole year, I could well be institutionalised after a couple of weeks of mutism. The first time loneliness crushed me I was in Germany, alone, in a godforsaken village where I knew nobody and had nothing to do all day. Being alone to me is not just boring, it can turn into a nightmare. I’ve always made a point of doing things on my own, the truth is I hate it and end up doing it just because the alternative would be doing nothing alone, instead of at least doing something alone.

I can’t think of bouncing back from all of this if I don’t learn to connect to other people, but it’s against my nature and changing takes a really long time. I try, any way I can, I am thoughtful while conducting my relationships with anyone. I try to absorb from them and try to improve my behaviour, but I don’t suppose I am going to chat up a stranger queuing in front of me anytime soon.

But at the same time, I perfectly understand how the ultimate goal should be to learn how to be alone, instead of how to avoid loneliness. Connecting to others is fundamental, but it will never saw a patch where my own soul is torn.


The whole concept behind the Italy phase is learning to enjoy pleasure. She probably didn’t even know that herself before leaving, but in the end, that’s what emerges: you need to learn to indulge, to act for the mere sake of pleasure. That pleasure is mainly in food, being Italy not only the cradle of one of the best cuisines worldwide, but also because of the typical aggregation that the ritual of eating involves.

I thought of this very specifically a few weeks before I started reading the book. I need to learn to pamper myself, just like a boyfriend would. I obviously and unfortunately will never be able to give myself the sensations that a comforting body next to mine could bring, but much of the rest, I could. Buying myself gifts, cooking myself beautiful dinners, watching my favourite movies, going to the spa every now and then, cuddling my body and soul as best as I can.

Food has always been a very ecstatic experience for me, and I will probably have to come to terms with gaining a few pounds – hopefully just a few – where I haven’t lost any to begin with. In this plan, Cartier’s delicacies – no stones involved, that’s the nickname the local greengrocer won for his prices – should help, with peace of mind of the piggy bank. My fortune is I don’t need to fly to the other side of the world. I can do this at home.

And pampering myself includes gaining some self-realisation and personal satisfaction through the act of preparing food. Not only I am finally challenging myself with recipes for my own dinner, I have taken up baking cakes for anybody. I would have never thought it could be so easy and never thought of the pleasure of letting others enjoy your creations.

The sabbatical

I was actually thinking of doing most of it from home. Liz is lucky, she may have lost all of her possessions due to the divorce, but she also has a job which allows her to leave for a year-round journey and still have a job when she is back. More than that, a job that paid for said journey on a guess: that her book would be a hit.

We all have our personal journey through divorce or separation, close to nobody wrote a book about. Most definitely, none of us went on such a trip. We can’t. We don’t have the money, we don’t have the means, we aren’t allowed. But the journey can still be done without moving too far from home. It’s enough to have a project.

I am not a spiritual person. I don’t believe in God or any other divine entity, I never have, I’ve always been like St. Thomas: if I don’t have evidence – and I mean scientific and tangible evidence – I won’t believe in anything. So the whole idea of praying goes too far for me right now. But situations brought me to evaluate the concept of oriental philosophies and practices and all of a sudden, meditation seems to have a very valid point. It might help in calming me down, in detaching myself from situations, in learning a bit more optimism.
It has worked out for others, I don’t see why it shouldn’t finally help me too.


Accept your life and you might survive it” Robin Hobb

The first time I read this sentence I was in the middle of my marital crisis. I was riddled by what I should have done, accept that I didn’t love my husband anymore and let go or try to wait the phase out. It made sense, back then, to accept things. Now I can’t accept it anymore.

Now is the time when you evaluate your life and realise there is something that isn’t working. Now it the time when you have to accept that something isn’t working but accepting the way my life is now would mean living no longer.

Change is needed, once again. It’s probably the same exact change that was needed before, only now that the first step is done, it’s manifesting itself in a different way.

I feel the all of the weight of loneliness now, and while I realise life for any single is at times lonely, I also understand my reaction to it is not healthy.

I gave some thought to one thing my therapist said the other day, that I probably tend to get so involved in relationships with men even before the relationship has started because I hold back so much from any other relationship.

What I need now is some balance.
My way of diving head-in in boys is not just unbalanced, it’s basically arrhythmic. My fear of loneliness brings me to have an extremely full life, where no empty minute is allowed, but what I would like to do is reach the point where being with friends is a pleasure, not a necessity, and so are silence and alone time.

I don’t know what I have to do to get to that point. The problem with change is that it takes time, while time is everything I don’t have the patience to wait for. It’s a process, I know that, but surviving with this sorrow every day makes me feel on the edge, it makes me say “I can’t go on like this any longer”, while all I need is time to adjust.

The only way to fight this anxiety is having a plan, knowing that I’m not just waiting with idle hands but that I am actively taking fate in my hands to make my life what I want it to be. The more I don’t like my life, the stronger is the need to steer it clear of everything that isn’t working.

I am in therapy, that is something, but right now I unfortunately don’t have the money to increase the frequency of my sessions and I know anyway how slow and unpredictable that process is. It changed me radically, but it might take years, I need to do something more to get out of this impasse. That’s why I thought to turn to meditation or self help groups. I need a direction and I need to concentrate on that purpose to contain my impatience.

Right now all I want is to be with people who I can talk to about this mess I have inside, but I can’t do it. Even tough friends are supposed to be there through good and bad, I don’t want to become a dead weight, I don’t want to call just because I desperately need help, it doesn’t feel fair.

My problem with meditation and 12-steps groups is God. I understand how believing in God is one of the most powerful weapons to defy anything in life, but it’s not like a t-shirt you can buy, whether you have faith or you don’t. I have always been too rational and material to accept the idea of an entity whose existence cannot be scientifically demonstrated. Moreover any idea of God that I may have interiorised is too strictly connected to Catholic precepts, which for too many reasons I cannot make my own. I have never believed in God and when the reasons are this logical, you can’t just decide you want to believe from tomorrow on.

I believe in a feeling of sublime and peace with the world. I believe in the power of nature, I believe in the power of will, I believe in love. These are my Gods. Are they enough to turn to for help and find serenity?

At times I wonder if I’m making this much more difficult and complicated than it really is. I have been so used to blaming my psyche that maybe I can’t recognise simple sorrow anymore. What if there is really nothing wrong with me but I am only and simply heartbroken? Can I still understand when I am heartbroken? A heartbreak has never been just a heartbreak to me, there has always been some sense of abandonment, some self deprecation, some older wound still hurting. Now it’s just the same, but maybe, just maybe I am blaming it too much on mental issues. Maybe it’s nothing more than the natural grieving process after a break up.

And probably, I have been thinking about myself and my transformation way too much where I have given way too little space to the thought of my husband and the relationship I have left behind. But probably it would have been too early before, it needed time to settle and digest the earthquake, before I could work through the shock.

Now it may be time to do it.

I feel like a PC with too many applications open, I’m going to have to close one by one if I want my RAM to be free.

It must be the spring. Let’s just blame the spring.

The week that just passed left me stressed, tired and wearied out. I had to deal with any kind of uninvited trouble, starting with a broken boiler, followed by organisational problems of any sort at the arena, trouble with the phone company, a very bad training fall which probably lead to a cracked rib, a whole week of news blackout from Alex, a major Campus reunion, my first attempt to enter the wonderful world of Adventures Worldwide… it was turbulent.

Campus reunion was weird. It was the first time in a very long while I attended one of these meetings alone. I met my ex husband at Campus. Still, there were a lot of people there, some of whom I hadn’t met since I left Campus, and one of them, Missy, didn’t even know who I had been with all this time. I told a few people that things had changed, that we are not together anymore, and while it’s still strange admitting this to people in general, these people were there with me before I even met my ex, it was like reconnecting to the past exactly where I left off. Many of them had a hard time recognising me; they were used to see me in my jeans and snickers, with long hair, no make up at all and well, it was 7 years ago… but all of them were pleasantly surprised. Spending time playing foosball with the boys just like I used to was bliss.

Talking to Marco again was strange. Talking to Lawrie again was stranger.

These are the people I was closest with when my relationship started. And for one reason or the other, I lost contact with both of them. Lawrie was starting a relationship in the same exact moment back then, one that would rip him of all his friends and make him a completely different person. Of course we couldn’t know beforehand, we see the results now. He’s been with this girl – a really stupid cow – a long time, and I found out just the other night that they had finally split up. But he hasn’t gone back to being the person he used to be anyway.

The manwhore… we used to be so close, once he came to me and told me “Hey, I’m graduating tomorrow, how about we get my mum’s new car and start a road trip the day after?”. So we went, drove for some 2000 miles and stayed away a week. He shot videos of the toilet door while I was inside, commenting the whole thing. I had just gotten together with my ex then. We’re complete strangers now, we hardly even talked to each other.

With Marco it was different. It was all as usual, his bulky presence, his filthy glasses, the nonsensical conversations. It was just where we left off, it felt strange thinking it had been indeed 4 years since the last time we saw each other. Still, everything is different now.

And then Sunday I spent the afternoon at Louise’s and Maurice’s, talking about the failures of my marriage. They are getting married in September and the news of my separation  shocked them to a point that they wanted to make sure they wouldn’t fall in the same pit, so we organised “the sermon”. Talking about it came naturally, just like talking about a book you’ve read dozens of times over. As I spilled everything, I noticed panick on Louise’s face every now and then whenever I pointed out peculiarities she could relate to, be it the fact that my ex used to think about work and work only, or that I used to have very few friends just like she does. And each time they got worried, I only thought they should not.

Under so many points of view they are different from the couple we used to be… starting from the fact that they actually wanted to try to understand what can go wrong in a marriage, to the fact that both have had at least one other long-term relationship and both stated that what they have now is not even remotely comparable to the other relationships. People say when you meet that special someone you finally understand why it never worked with anybody else… Then they told me how they met, and I almost started crying. They both used to write blogs and started commenting on each other’s pages until one day they decided to meet. They were very worried about revealing this details, I guess most people would think it’s disdainful and stupid. I couldn’t help thinking it’s the most romantic thing I’ve ever heard.

I really hope I am the exception here, that it will work out perfectly for them and for all of the others left agape by my shocking story. They can’t see it, probably, but I like to think it worked out for me too.


The house is emptying.

First it was the boxes full of newly Amazon ordered stuff, then a few kitchen appliances, then clothes and toileteries. It feels different. It doesn’t look like my house anymore, it looks like something is missing.

Indeed, what it isn’t anymore is our house, and what it officially is is my house. I need to get used to the voids, used to the order and cleanliness that were never there before. I need to take the time to rearrange it as my place.

I slept alone tonight. It wasn’t frightening, his physical presence was the one thing I didn’t really miss. It’s the stuff, the change I see in the environment around me.

The first weekend alone in the house. The first full day of loneliness. It’s so hard I can hardly breath.

I went out with Maddie last night, we went clubbing to a place near her home, in the hope of finding someone she used to know and reconnecting to old acquaintances. That obviously didn’t happen, plus it was one of the hardest nights so far. I realised how hard it’s going to be to meet someone new, to make new friends, especially with no money or little time.

I hate clubbing. I hate the fact that the music is so loud that you can’t even talk, I hate the fact that you can’t see around because of the lights, I hate the fact that people is supposed to go clubbing to meet new people and you end up even sadder and lonelier once the night doesn’t turn out the way you hoped.

At the same time, I really don’t have the money right now to do any other thing that could bring me to meet people. Any course I might enrol in costs more than I have, if I want to go to New York to Sabrina and I just can’t fathom what would be best in the long run.

Luckily at least, we ended the night talking in Maddie’s car in front of her house as I used to do when I was 18 with Faith. That’s one thing that can always make me feel good. Apart from when she made me realise how wrong it is to rely so much upon a partner as I need to.

I see the two sides of this thing. I know how wrong my attitude could be, because, as she says, you can’t really trust men. But on the other side, you just can’t try to build a serious and deep relationship without relying on them and trusting them fully.

I understand the way my heart functions, I understand and I see that I can’t connect to friends the way I connect to a partner. I know it shouldn’t be like this, that I should learn to rely on other relationships as well and that this is how I felt in the beginning of my awakening. I don’t know if I lost it because it was all a lie or because of the grief I’m feeling right now. I don’t know how much of what I am feeling is normal and to be expected or if it’s my issues.

I feel lonely because I am missing all the feelings I used to have inside. There is a hole there now, instead of what was filling it and I have no idea of how I am ever going to be able to fill it if not with the same kind of feelings. This is why I feel the need to love again so much.

I miss the way it made me feel. The safety, the tranquility. And I wonder how much of that feeling was granted by the mere fact that there was love and companionship or how much it was my husband as a person to grant me that. As long as I can’t change the fact that I need to have a partner to feel whole, I have to wonder whether any person I am in love with could do or if different characters may not give me what I need. I am for the first time wondering if there was more to our relationship than I can see.

But then again, I don’t know if it’s the grief talking or the truth. When I feel well, when optimism can break through I feel hope and I feel like everything is going to be ok, but when I’m not all I can think about is being with him, calling him, seeking help with him. If I need to rely on a man so much, shouldn’t I be with someone I can trust completely?

Will time be enough to heal or will be difficult as it has ever been?

I don’t know what to expect. I’m feeling so bad that I can’t figure out how I’m ever going to feel better than this. It feels like it’s going to be like this forever. And probably it won’t, anybody would tell me it’s going to go away, but the truth is I don’t know that. I have never gone through this sort of break up, I have no idea if I’ll ever work this out or if I’ll just end up being frustrated and angry with life just like I was before.

Alpha, Omega and everyone in between

As the day of the camp gets nearer, all of my energy is fading away. I feel so damn tired. I believe physical weariness is partly responsible, but it’s my brain that needs a holiday more than my body. I wish I had a switch, a full blown switchboard, where every thought can be turned on and off as I see fit. I haven’t learnt to do this yet, being able to focus on anything else when there is a precise thought running around in loops in my head. When I was younger I couldn’t study, now I can’t work, while all I would need for my sanity’s sake would be to just let go, not think about it and concentrate on something else, the more practical the better. I just can’t shut it out instead, it keeps haunting me, it feeds on my energy and my tenacity, I succumb to it. Unless I learn how to accomplish this, it will start pushing me away from anything good still left.

I am starting to be weary of training as well. It used to be my refuge, the one sacred ground where I could free my mind from thought and let my muscles dominate time. While this is still true up to a certain point for any time I go practicing alone, I can’t stand training anymore. It just became so heavy, so massive, it’s not about the sport anymore. Concentration is key and a thousand voices keep racing in my head while I try to do things. I can’t do it with all of this noise, worrying about the way others see me, worrying about other eyes on him, worrying about his eyes on me, worrying about my disability to concentrate in order to succeed. I am going to be there on Friday to the social dinner and I am going to camp, but right now, I wish I didn’t. I just find it so useless. The day I called him, it must have been the weather, the talk I had with my husband, the fact that everything seemed ridiculously pointless, but I had the absolute certainty while talking to him that I just invented everything in my own head. There was nothing there, nothing at all. When I got home from training last night I couldn’t bear the idea of being exactly in the same spot in a week with nothing left to hope for. That is how it’s going to pan out, nothing happening, not a hint and a whole lot of time, energy and money down the drain. The top of the irony would actually be if he hooked up with someone else while at camp. I realised this just yesterday, never thought of it before. And again I heard the voice of the 17-year-old me saying “did you seriously think someone like him may like someone like you, given a choice?”.

There is just no way out of this, it doesn’t matter how much time I wasted ever since I became a teenager, this part of me will never change. I will always want the guy much more than I reasonably should, I will always be the one battered and left behind with no boyfriend and a broken heart, the one with the systematic bad luck in love. Grabbing the guy I want will never be my thing, no matter how much Cosmopolitan I read, how much make up I use, how high my heels and how short my skirts are. The only time this ever happened was at Campus, with K. I wanted him before he had even started looking at me and I felt like I had won him over in the end. I may have fallen for other people, but it was always in response to their approach or just a casual encounter. It may be absolutely futile to reason about who started what, if we got together in the end, but it matters to me. I need it not to be an exception. Maybe this does have to do with my confidence more than I care to admit, but so be it. I just need to prove my theory through a practical experiment, theory is not enough.

These are the moments I fear, because I feel the lure of staying exactly where I am, changing nothing and swallowing all as is. I repel at the idea of staying with my husband because of this, because of desperation, distrust and lack of drive. Of course it would be the most convenient way out, but it feels so wrong. It feels like the reason we got together in the first place.

While listening to Muse yesterday I found out that at the end of the CD three additional tracks had been burnt. It was a gift from Second Fred. One of them was “You make me feel brand new” from Simply Red. I remember we talked about this one song one night, I just didn’t recall it was in this CD or never really noticed. it reminded me of him at first, of how nice he always was with me, although he had never been in love with me. But then I just thought of Mick’s words, how beautiful they are and how I am supposed to feel that way about my husband but I just don’t. I can’t. I feel like a monster when I think of all the feelings I have lost, I wonder if getting them back would be good or bad.Would it help me get back on track or would it just push me to guilt?

One question lingers in my head: why do I want to start anew with somebody else instead of transforming the relationship I have had for the past 6 years? I still can’t find a proper answer. I feel the need to break free and I don’t know why, I don’t know why I feel so insulated from the past, why it feels like a gap in history. I can’t understand if it is a step forward or backward. Was I neglecting my past while I was with him or am I reconnecting to the past now to make sense of the part of my life I shared with him? I can’t feel the good of it anymore. I remember it as if through a photograph, not being there, only seeing it from the outside. Somehow I don’t want to reconnect with that part of my life, but I don’t see the reason why. I think I may be afraid of losing what I just gained, more confidence, albeit intermittent, femininity, optimism, carelessness, trust in others.

I hurt when I hear him say he doesn’t want to talk about this with anyone, that he doesn’t really have friends, because it’s like listening to the old me. He probably added to my basic distrust of people, nourished it instead of helping me overcome it, and we just shut the world outside, thinking that we were enough for each other. I don’t believe in this anymore. I am trying to abandon my constant demand for perfection, or maybe I have already left it behind and don’t even remember it (unless I’m training) that shows in every time I mess up and don’t get mad or frustrated over it. He has always been the one I had to hide my imperfection from. This may be a big influence from the circumstances, but I feel like he demands perfection but never teaches anything.When he does, it’s just to show the world how good he is compared to them.

I was reading another stupid forum about marital problems and someone raised the problem of alpha and beta males. I had the impression, and  wrongly told him so, that he needed to grow a pair, since he always looks subdued and puppyish. So I started thinking maybe I needed more of an Alpha male. I am actually starting to believe the exact opposite. He is dedicated to the job, thinks he is better than the vast majority of the world’s population, can’t stand being told what to do, never talks about himself and his emotions. He may be subdued with me, which by the way I can’t stand lately, but other than that I don’t see much beta. Maybe I need only an Omega man: someone who is himself and creates the perfect equilibrium between different qualities that make him unique and perfect for me.