Mental, mardy, but a little bit marvellous..


Ok ok so I’ve picked myself up. Dusted myself off. I’m moving forwards again. I had a few days of being a hippo (as my friend puts it) and wallowing. Now I can carry on.

And it’s so busy! I’ve got two smalls with chicken pox. Abey is so covered, I’ve never seen so many spots. He was quite poorly as he came down with it though, before the spots came out he had a raging temperature and was lethargic all day and night Sunday. Poor kiddo. Now he’s covered. Hands, feet, soles of feet, ears, eyes, they’re everywhere. It’s so bad. Jack has them too but as luck would have it, he’s got about 4. Victoria had them last week and she was pretty bad but she uses sleep as a get well exercise so she’s the easiest child in the world to deal with when she’s poorly. Velcro, but easy. 

I went to the docs this morning. He upped my meds to the maximum dose of this one, says we can try some other combinations if they don’t work. Gave me more sleeping pills but I’m not allowed anymore after this, they’re for sporadic use only. Got to go back in 3 weeks for another review. He wants me to do some talking therapy. I need to self refer again. So I’ll add it to the list for the day I get some motivation back. 

The girls are still on school holidays. Their school is catholic and has rubbish holidays so they find themselves off when everyone else has gone back. Except for in the summer when it would actually make a difference. So I’ve the two boys off. The two girls off. And the oldest is off as he only has to go into college for exams at the moment. One child in school! Not bad at all. 

I splurged on some books for myself today. 6 for £30. It will mean I own every single Alex Verus novel written. There’s 8 so far and I have the first two. Can’t wait for them to arrive so I can read the rest. I’m also planning on buying myself The Folio Society cloth bound edition of Rebecca. It’s the most beautiful book I ever saw. 

Today I’m feeling more like myself. Still sad. Still as fateful and dramatic as ever. But maybe more.. hopeful? Is that the word? I’m not sure. I’m cautiously letting the light in. It’ll be enough for now. 


I miss him. I miss his texts. I miss wondering (not that it ever got me anywhere). I miss his hands and his warmth, the smell of his neck. That depth in his eyes when he kisses me. The feel of his beard on my bare skin, his teeth on my shoulder. His breathing, his arms, his heartbeat. That feeling of being perfectly safe in his arms. He will never read this, but if he does? 

I miss you. I wouldn’t likely have seen you since the last time I saw you if we were still together but knowing I’ll never see you again HURTS. You’re a big part in my heart and I will miss you and I don’t know how to be what you want. I want to tell you that I care for you – and I’m sorry your ex wife hurt you so much that you don’t feel like you can love anyone else again. It’s scary but it would be so worth it. I would surrender the moon and the stars if you’d let me in. I’d give you my heart and that’s worth more than anything else I could give you. I’d love you so much the sun would shine on us and the stars in the sky would twinkle just for us. I’d love you so hard that you’d wake each day knowing you were loved and wanted and needed and your black cloud would lift like a breeze in the summer sun. You’d never be lonely again. I’d kiss you and drown and you’d drown too. We could plumb the depths drowning together but we’d have our hands to hold on to, and never let go. I’d look after you. I’d give you myself, my soul, my heart, my love. There’s so much I could show you if you’d let me. There’s magic. I miss you.

Of course he will never read it. And of course I won’t hear from him again. I know this. 

It does feel a little better for writing it down. So as always, thanks for reading and being with me. My heart is broken but I appreciate your company. Thanks guys. 


I’m so unhappy. I’m miserable. 

He didn’t even try to keep me. He didn’t question me walking away. He hasn’t been in touch since he told me his brother knew about me. Which was directly after I messaged him and told him I can’t keep doing this.

My bff says she hopes he doesn’t contact me and then I can get over him. I got over the Scottish one, I can get over him… 

But I don’t want to get over him. I don’t want to have to. 

I wish that I could’ve sent that message and he’d taken some time to think about it and realised he can’t live without me and that he’d be miserable too and that really he loves having me about. And then of course we’d live happily ever after. I know, I know. 

I know that looking back on this whole thing that it was never going to work out and I guess that’s why I sent that message. I was tired of being ignored and feeling unimportant. I guess it was kind of an ultimatum that just didn’t really have any options. He just got rid of me and that’s that. Maybe he will be much happier now. He’s probably back on the dating site I met him on and would’ve been out on the pull already. 

I wish I could’ve been what he wanted. I’m so unhappy. 

It’s over 

It’s over. I finished it today. I’m so sad. The sadness has taken over. I woke up today sad, after falling asleep sad, last night. I’m overwhelmingly sad. So I messaged him. I told him I couldn’t do it anymore. I said this:

Obviously you can see his response. 

I’ve not said anything, I just don’t have the words or the heart. I’m broken again. 

I know I’m worth loving. If nothing else I’m worth love. I know this. I don’t know what I would have to do to make him love me. But I doubt I’ll be hearing from him again. He’s unfriended me on Facebook. He’d already blocked me on everything else and it wasn’t unblocking even when we both tried to sort it out. 

My heart remains sad and alone. I’m thoroughly overwhelmed and sad. I’ve cried so much today. That’s me. Alone again. 


He came round last night. Our first time of more than a couple of hours together in weeks. And boy am I feeling it today.

He kept calling me “misery guts” because I wasn’t always smiling. I guess that’s because I’m usually very smiley. I’ve had a lot on my mind (none of which he knows about) and I’m trying really hard but it kind of comes out I suppose. Even when you’re trying to hide it.

My eyes leaked. He never noticed and I hid it well but they leaked several times. 

We listened to music, we had cuddles, and snuggles and it was lovely. Listening to his heartbeat makes me happy. Knowing he has to leave me less so.

He said I keep giving him these long, pondering looks lately.

Sometimes when he kisses me I catch a glimpse and I think that this must be what it is to know that someone loves you. Then he blinks and it’s gone. Sometimes I feel like I’m open and I’m there and I love and I just want to show him and I can’t say so. Sometimes I just want to tell him. Sometimes I just want to say the words and get it out there. But I’m scared of the rejection. I’m scared that he’ll just leave and not come back. I’m scared. 

I did tell him I didn’t want him to leave. And he has this thing about staying out so he took full blame for it saying he wouldn’t sleep. Which is true but still. My eyes leaked again. I’m sad thinking about it today. All I want is for him to love me. And I don’t think he ever will. 

When he left, the new cat came to see me. I don’t know if I’ve introduced you to Jeremy the girl cat yet but she’s started coming to see us and is Sids girlfriend so we’ve made her welcome and given her a name. She snuggled right up close and purred lots. Almost as if she knew. And she stayed there until I fell asleep. I was so lonely I felt like my heart was breaking. I still do. I miss him. But she helped. Thanks Jeremy. I owe you one. 

Well that ended differently

Keeping you up to date with all my drama.

It all changed after last nights post. He text me. After my not replying to the “all I can offer” text. He asked if I wanted a visitor for an hour. Of course I said I can’t offer you any fumbles. The kids are here this weekend, it’ll be me and the smalls. 

He said, and I quote, 

I don’t just come round for fumbles

Which seemed strange given that he’d literally just said that’s all he can offer me… 

So yeah. I agreed. It would be nice to see him being as it’s been over 2 weeks. 

He brought me some root beer that he was trying. He knows I like it. He looked great too. I looked a mess and so did the house. It was a weekend evening, I was covered in oil paint, needed a shower desparately and wearing my pjs.

Oh! it was so nice. We sat and we chatted and the kids climbed all over him and snuggled up – it was just lovely. A few hours of something else. We even had a little kiss goodbye.

I’m undone and back to square one, starry eyed and falling. 

Dumped again 

…or maybe it’s for good this time.

This is the conversation… lighthearted… pretty good considering we’ve not seen each other for weeks… earlier highlights include being told I could go round for a brew and service him while I’m there… only as long as his brother is out though because of course I don’t exist. 

This is the conversation. I’m the one in blue. 

I literally don’t know what to say. I think that was very hurtful. It really hurt my feelings. I’m aware he didn’t want a serious relationship and I was okay with that. But acknowledging someone’s existence is surely common courtesy. It’s rude not to. 

So I’m going to say nothing. At all. Again. Ever.

The smile has been well and truly wiped off my face. 

Something Mancunian

After the events over the last few days I think it would be somewhat heartless to carry on talking about myself when there’s so many people suffering in Manchester and across the world in the wake of the terrorist attack on the 22nd May. 

This is my city, the place I’ve brought my children up, the place I’ve lived for the last 8 and a half years, the birthplace of half my kids… Manchester is in my heart. It’s my home more than anywhere else. It’s in our blood. 

I never felt like I belonged anywhere until I moved here. The pace of life is faster than Romney Marsh where I grew up but still ultimately ambling. People bimble along, usually with a smile and always with an “alright”. You can go drinking here alone and by the end of the night you’ve a whole armful of new friends and numbers. Being different is welcomed, being ordinary is too. 

It’s not a crime to be anything in Manchester because you are always something. And that’s the thing. This is a city of dreams. You can get stuck, you can go down, you can be in a deeper hole than you ever imagined. But there will always be a way out, someone, something, somewhere. Waiting in the future, maybe you can’t see it but it’s there. It’s hope. And more than anything, what has happened over the last few days has shown the world that Manchester embodies that one word. As well as diversity and solidarity and togetherness, above all else. Hope. No matter what. Because we do things differently here. 

Birthday blues 

Yesterday was my birthday. 35 years old. 6 children. 3 sisters, 1 brother on my mums side. 2 sisters, 2 brothers on my dads. My mum and my dad. No grandparents. No aunties or uncles to speak of. Cousins, nieces, nephews, more than I can count. 

I got 6 cards. One from mum, one from dad, one from my son and one from my ex sister and brother in law. They live not 20 miles away and moonpigged a card, just in case I thought I might have been important. One from my best friend in the world who sent me cake in a card. And one from *him*. 

Two phone calls. One from mum; one from dad. They both acknowledge my existence once a year so that’s nice.

I had 52 well wishes and happy birthdays on Facebook. I replied to every single one. It’s nice to know that more people online give a shit than anyone in my actual life. 

Everyone asks “did you have a nice day?” Well, no. I never do. They’re the same as every other day. My trouble with birthdays is that I’ve never had anyone make me feel special on them. Ive never had a party, a surprise, been taken out. Ive never been made to feel like someone gives a shit. 

I’ve done it all for everyone else but I’ve never been on the receiving end. My 8 year old kept asking where my presents were. Mummy doesn’t get presents, kiddo. It just doesn’t happen. He was quite disappointed. No one cares enough. *he* got me a book and left my card and book on the doorstep for me to find. Which was lovely. But a cuddle would have been better. 

Today is the inevitable down day that follows such bullshit. I’m so annoyed with myself that it matters so much. Because it does matter. My friend turned 40 and was taken to Italy! My sister had a surprise 40th birthday party! With a band and over 100 people. I don’t even get a knock on the door. 

Happy birthday to me. Another year alive. Huh.

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