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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.


I’m worried about you.

All of us are, some of us have even tried to tell you, maybe the wrong way, maybe not in the best of atmospheres, and you keep retracting, you keep neglecting, you keep all of us out. I can’t believe I could be any different. I can’t believe you would let me in, just because you forced your way into me.

But I keep thinking I have to do something about this. We all see the problem, but none of us know how to convince you to look it in the eyes, once and for all, before it eats you away.

You are too much to waste away like this, there is a universe inside you that can’t go to waste, you can’t annihilate everything you could be like this. You are playing with fire and you will end up imploding or exploding one day and then it will inevitably be too late. You have no idea how hard you could fall, your life is at stake in this and you just won’t contemplate that option.

You are so preoccupied with controlling everything, you can’t see how it is all slipping away. You keep imposing your rules, you keep boxing up everything you see and ignoring everything that doesn’t fit your schemes, when all you should do is giving it a chance.

You have no idea how much you mean to me and how much I selflessly love you and I wish I could do just half of what I wish to make your life a little better. I hate seeing you no longer smiling as you used to but avoiding any contact with the reality of facts won’t help you in the least.

I am no one here, I don’t belong in your life, I don’t know anything about your past, but I know who you are now, whether you like it or not, and it kills  me to see you so negligent.

I don’t know how to close this gap between us, you may very well never allow it no matter how hard I try, you will probably push me away as soon as I take a step towards you and I understand how it’s easier to look away, but I can’t let you do that. Because I know what it feels like and I know how you’ll end up and I can’t let that happen.

There is no way I can do this without it becoming excessively weird, but I’m thinking maybe I should do it anyway. There is too much at stake, maybe I should just muster up the courage and write you an email. A letter, just like I used to when I was 12.

You would never look me in the eye again, I would never have the guts to approach the subject and we’ll both pretend it never happened, but at least you would know. At least I could convey to you everything I need to tell you, everything you need to know. And maybe nothing would change, maybe you’ll discard it as a mad woman’s rambling but if there was a remote chance that it could hit the right nerve, it would be worth it.

I will never have you and that’s ok, but please have yourself, live the life you want, not the one that others imposed on you, please break your schemes and decide what’s best for you, for your heart, for your soul and your peace of mind.

Please start taking what the whole world is ready to give you, please open up just a little and start trusting, start feeling alive, start interacting and being influenced. Reject the perfect cover you want to wear at all costs, it won’t do you any good, you are hiding behind it for fear of finding your own way, but it will suffocate you, it will drive away all the passion, all the love and the sensitivity you have.

Please don’t let it, please step out of this, please break your shell, please break free.

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.

“If you could spare some 15 minutes of your time, I’d like to talk to you about something. Given it’s nothing simple for me to discuss, I’d very much appreciate if you could let me get over with it with as few interruptions as possible, or I’m never going to get to the point. The points, rather. The last time I tried to have this conversation with someone, it didn’t end well; but it was a lifetime ago, where everyone was young and stupid and I hope this time it’s not going to be just as useless.

As you have come to know under awkward circumstances, I am too amongst the pool of desperate girls drooling on the ice during every lesson; what I probably haven’t been that clear on, is that the whole thing goes a tad beyond pure physical attraction for me, as of now. Because of this, I haven’t been just staring during the past few months, I have also studied and analysed him pretty deeply, gathering information from every possible source, from his interactions with me and with others as well as from everything you, Amber and everyone else have ever said about him.

Still, I am sorry to say, I haven’t been able to understand him fully, especially his angle. On the one hand, I have this very strong feeling, which is substantial and not just a hunch, that in many ways his brain works very much like mine. I am not saying this because the idea that your loved one is like you is fancy, I am as puzzled and frightened by it as I could ever be. But this gives me an insight you, Amber, Dave or Mark might never have, because I am that kind of person and I know how we think. Therefore, many of the things I see on him I can categorise as logical, they make sense and fit well together for a mind like mine. Some others of course don’t, as we are two separate individuals, not least of opposite sex. There is though always a little room for deception. Anything he says or does can be ascribed either as the truth, considering my type of reasoning, or as a bold-faced lie aimed just at one thing: fooling the girl.

I have given much thought to what Amber said when we were at camp. At first I had no doubt it could be true, I believed it at once. I wanted to, because it would have been a perfect excuse for me to let go, and somehow I had evidence that it could be true. You know him, better than I do, you know how cold he can be outside of his comfort zone of teacher, how he very rarely stretches outside the role of the professional, towards a more intimate and friendly behaviour. I am still very much astonished thinking of this once instance, where he made a very direct and explicit compliment to me that had absolutely no connection to teaching or skating whatsoever. And yet, he could just as swiftly start talking to some other girl at the end of the lesson and not even turn to me to say goodbye.

I’m not saying this because I want to brag about it. All I am trying to say is: be careful. I guess, this is one of the many reasons why I haven’t thrown myself at him and all the more because you still say you are not interested, you should filter every single word he utters to understand what he is after. It’s close to impossible, I realise that, because if it’s all a game, he is damn good at it. I know you weren’t born yesterday, but, and this is another point I would like to make, I don’t think your situation with him as stable and defined as you make it. You say you are not interested, yet you spent an entire hour the other day talking about him. You say you don’t like him, but you do wonder what you should wear in bed. You say he is just a friend, but he makes you nervous, you fight a lot and you’re sorry when you do.

I assume and hope you are not lying to me and I am really not asking you to assure me that you are indeed not interested, I am asking you to think about it and ask yourself if you are lying to yourself. I understand how it can be difficult to admit there is more than friendship for an infinite list of reasons: age difference, love life situations, implications on training, implications with the social life at the arena… I know, I’ve been there myself. I just want you to think about it very seriously. I am far from pushing you into his arms, if nothing else because there is no definitive certainty that he wants it too, but if you don’t promise me you will consider this very seriously, I’m afraid the two of us might have problems in the future. 

One thing I need to point out: I am ok with you liking him. Please, do not lie to me about it because you are scared to tell me. For one fundamental reason: if he likes you, there is nothing I can or would do about it. You could, and you should be free to do it. But if you keep telling me that you don’t care about him and that he is only a past-time activity, I am going to do something about it. I am going to keep pursuing this, regardless of the result. And if for some unexplainable reason it should start working, I wouldn’t want you turning on me for it. Right now, as hard and unpleasant it might be to admit it, I need a new friend much more than I need a guy I don’t even know that well.

And this is the core point of it all: this situation is a mess. It’s been hard for me to find a balance at training because I like him and this turn of events did not make it any easier. The one and only way to get out of this alive still being friends is being crystal clear and honest about every single detail. I don’t care much who and if he is going to be with, I am not and wouldn’t dare asking you to let go, all I care about is not being lied to. I prefer punches to backstabbing. I also expect you to demand the same from me, so as embarrassing as it could ever be, I am ready to answer any question and address any issue you may see fit to discuss.

I have lost a friend in the past for the same reason. We both liked the same guy, he liked her – that seems to be the constant –  and I was ok with it, it’s not like you can fight fate anyway. All I asked of her was to be honest with me, tell me if she liked him and if something would happen with him. She did none of that, but she sure as hell did him. She may not have been a great friend to begin with, still, if it can be avoided, I’d just like to point out I’m up for it.”

This is practice, I just pray I am going to have the guts to say all this to her face.

Awful day, savage week.

Monday I finally got to see Claire, for the first time after my wedding. Which was good, because it felt like a long time and I missed her, but awful because she simply couldn’t believe what I was saying. I guess, since we met when we were in Berlin at the beginning of my relationship, I kind of made her believe in love more by looking at us. Poor thing had to stop believing in this too and God knows she would need some more faith.

Yesterday I saw Renée and boy, was she hard on me. I understand her motives and I can’t blame her, but she did hit me hard.

Today I am a blurred image of myself, shallow as film paper and weak as a falling leaf. Considering I am supposed to make my grand move tonight and how Fortune itself seems to be turning on me today, I should really run and hide.

Today. Thank Sa, it’s today and as I recently read on and assimilated from Bounce (, it’s not going to be every damn day of the rest of my life, just today. This helped me a little.

I am kind of broken down. I lost most of my confidence, second guess all of my decisions and find everything too much to deal with. I guess, the syndrome has a name: chickening out. But really, what am I afraid of? Having nothing if what I have right now is not enough? I like the idea of having someone waiting for me at home every night and being greeted by a hug and kiss, but the image of that someone is still foggy. It’s been my husband for so many years, that I am used to it right now, but is it really the best possible choice? I like being hugged by him, but the other night I was wondering what it would be like to be hugged the same way by coach. I still feel tenderness, but is it love? I like taking what he is giving me, but I realise I am not giving anything in return. It’s too little, for both of us.

And then there’s Matthew.

I feel so stupid just at the mention of the name. But I guess that with these things you just have to feel a little stupid. And that’s all I have: a name. I don’t know who he is, what he does, what he sounds like, I’ve only ever read him. Hell, I don’t even know what he looks like, since I cannot know if it’s really him in the picture. Oh, but if he is… Is it even possible to like someone just reading what he writes? It could be all a fake, I get that, but if not? Almost none of the people I chatted up are still writing me but him. I thought he abandoned my virtual hummingbird as well, but he did resurface after all. And Tuesday night, when the darkest hours came, reading his message still brought a smile on my face. These days, it’s like a trip to the moon.

I’m dying to get to know the guy, but I’m extremely torn. He has never even hinted at asking my picture, we have shared no detail about our practical lives, and, again, when he asks me about my last relationship what am I going to say? And what if he doesn’t like me and disappears just like Batman did? What if he is the exact opposite of what I imagine him to be? It feels like limerence, maybe it is better as it is and it’s not really worth it, finding out how he is in reality. We talk of things I never talk about in reality with anyone because I can hide behind a screen. Once you find yourself in front of a cocktail, you ask about jobs, hobbies, habits… you lose the magic. True enough that I have no idea what would happen if I found myself in front of someone with whom I have already discussed it all. Maybe it would be easier just to go on. What if he chats like that with everybody, has tons of contacts and never meets any of them because what he likes is just the image he gives of himself? Maybe he is so smart that he can write anyone of us baits exactly what we want to hear. Or maybe I’m overimagining things and the truth is, he is just someone like me, going with the current and seeing where that takes him.

It’s this curiosity I can’t tame. Entering somebody else’s life, learning what their reality looks like, discovering their secrets. I need to explore the world.

And finally Maddie took off, against all odds. Attagirl.

I got her worried and that is absolutely the last thing I expected. First I was bothered – fun killer! – then I started asking myself honestly if she has a point – eyes opener?

In this strange condition of mine, I realise that in the eyes of others, and sometimes my own too, I am very different from how I used to be and the description that would fit my state may be composed of not very nice adjectives such as selfish, irresponsible, unethical, immoral, childish, slutty, shallow, reckless… I could go on forever. That’s the outside. Inside, what I feel is positive, confident, happy, hilarious, curious, greedy, explosive. My question is: how much should personal satisfaction count compared to the ideal of person one is supposed to be?

I’ve always thought, I was a better person than most. I considered the mistakes people make stupid, controllable and immature and have often felt better with myself thinking I wouldn’t have done the same mistakes in their places. I used to be, for all intents and purposes, less human. I was so brain-centered I never let my emotional side drive, which is the one thing that makes you make mistakes. If you follow your reason, you do sensible things, say reasonable things, take responsible decisions. When you let your heart drive, you make stupid things, your decisions seem to have no sense in the world and the reaction you stir in others usually sounds like “are you crazy or something?”.

The point here is: can you live a fulfilling life letting your mind steer instead of your heart?

Based on my experience, you will definitely live longer, but not necessarily better. In fact, while you can always decide to put some more common sense in your life and start behaving like a “normal” and sensible person whenever you want, heart has an age – the older you get, the harder it’s going to be to let it do its course. The age of the heart is youth. Then, once you’ve handled your deal of stupidity, you get your head together and you grow up.

What happens when you realise a few years too late that you have positively missed out on stupidity? What do you do when you realise your head has been controlling your heart in the exact same years when the opposite was supposed to happen? How do you deal with a sensible life when all you want is chaos and uncertainty?

I am sure my way of dealing with this is off the beaten track. How could it be otherwise? I am experimenting, I have no idea what it is I am doing, whether it’s right or wrong, because it’s all new. To me and to my friends, who were smart or stupid enough to accept stupidity at the right time or banned it out forever and never looked back (so far). Am I doing the right thing? Probably not, most definitely not, but I’ve been trying to do the right thing all my life and the result is that I feel old inside. That is probably the foundation of my “old spinster complex”. Doing the wrong thing might be my only salvation right now.

I know, living like this is no recipe for a good life; this is the necessary rebound, the up-side after the down-side that precedes the actual balance. I am unbalanced, just as I was before, although I never realised that. I will find the balance again, with time. I have no idea of how long it’s going to take and time is all I feel I don’t have right now, so I get reckless. But I have fun doing it. This is not dangerous, not in the strictest sense of the word. Its long-term results may not be that pleasant, I may hurt a lot of people along the way, including myself. It’s not good, it’s not correct, it’s not righteous, it’s not honourable. It feels necessary. I am scared that if I don’t follow the need and do it, it may all die inside of me again.

Knowing all of this is, from some superior objective point of view, wrong, is it right of me to pursue it anyway?

I already feel like a monster, not because doing wrong things and hurting people is bad, but because knowing it’s bad and wrong doesn’t make me feel the slightest bit of guilt. Should I be worried to turn into a monster? Or I should – as I am right now – be happy that I have finally found my own way into emotional awareness and sail with the wind? Will I lose myself following this path or will I accept my mistakes instead of running from them because my heart told me it was the right thing to do? Is she only worried because she couldn’t live with the consequences if she were me or is she genuinely concerned for my well-being?

Sybil and Renée are not worried. My therapist is not worried. I am not worried. Are we all out of our minds?