Meeting an Old Friend

Things have improved, in so much that I applied for a job, got an interview and got a second interview. I'm yet to hear back, but impressed I even had the chutzpah to apply. I decorated my flat, in bright colours and a myriad of kitsch. I dealt with a boundaries violation by my flatmate head on and you guess what? She didn't make me feel crap or that I had to put up with her nicking my food and fags. I didn't get a torrent of abuse or be made to feel I should not feel aggrieved. I didn't then fester with anger, resentment and anxiety. I feel happier, more confident and more normal I guess. It was like catching up with an old friend, it felt familiar rather than alien. A homecoming. Talk Talk fucked the account transfer to me and I had to contact Adam, it was hard, but I didn't let him engage with me and I firmly told him to return the items he took to my office and not my home. When he had a tantrum I highlighted how he had manipulated it into an argument, and I was not being unreasonable. I felt shaken up, scared, I puked, but I didn't say "Please drop round the flat" although a part of me would have liked that more than I can describe. I'm waiting for the next cluster bomb of his fuckery, most likely him trying to eject me from the flat, but I have a plan, I have plans nowadays. I am a woman with plans, a future, not long term, but I can see in five years that I will have bought him out of the flat, have a restraining order in place and be in a job that values my skills. I can even believe I can offer the world something, I'm not defective. I am Zoe, I'm getting there.

Tindersticks and gig sticks

It’s been tough this week, I don’t know why. The past month has seen me kicking ass all over the shop, this week I just want to cry and be held by him. I’m grieving. The malaise and apathy started about Wednesday last week, then it erupted upon finding a gig stick full of his stuff on late Friday. Stupidly I pried rather than deleted. Now I find myself openly weeping when I hear the Tindersticks. I’m listening to the Tindersticks and Cat Power and expecting not to cry? What fool am I? What fool misses a man who beats you, who belittles you, a man so angry that he made Malcolm Tucker look measured and a tirade would be sparked by a fallen tea towel or a sprout making good it’s escape from the chopping board. The content, not full of revelations of regret or empathy for me; more an angry, self pitying rant about why he was angry and why he would argue with people and in turn why he adored the vile bitch who messaged me hate and told me to stop writing about what I have been through. It made me hate him. I do hate him. I then spent some time looking at the photos of the beatings. I wanted to go back. Maybe I am the stupid, self destructive retard he convinced me I was. I cling to the cat. He lay in my arms. It felt good, but I still feel sad. I would like to get to the point where I don’t cry anymore. It felt so close and now it feels a long ways away again.

Black dog

The past 3 months have been difficult; what started as a cloud following me turned into a staring at the abyss. What do you do when faced with that? I threw a pebble in and took to the couch. Facing my birthday and wanting it to end left me crying under my duvet for a full week, until Toby kindly visited me. Beasley was tolerant and offered me a friendly paw or a wide berth, depending on the wetness of cheek or distorted of mouth I was. Camden and Islington Mental Health team offered me a bed at a crisis centre, that tossed me right in. Today was OK, I was sad, I'm often sad, but everything felt normal. I have cried, I cry a lot, but it was OK and the tears dried easily and the anger came back. I wish I didn't feel angry, it's so exhausting. As draining as being in a toxic relationship, but it keeps me going. I'm clinging on, to my home, my sanity, at times my life, but I'm going nowhere. I'm alone for this week, that is not scary, I wish it was and felt normal, but I'm not scared and I'm often scared. I haven't thrown up since Monday although my stomach pains are still there, I'm hoping I can feel normal enough for them to stop. I guess the hoping is what keeps and kept me going. I've stopped seeing people, I'm doing what I can cope with, it's making me bitter and old. It's going to stop. If anyone I know is reading, give me a call.