Yes yes, the wedding!

Ok, so it's seriously flaky to fail to blog about one's own wedding for two whole months, but in my defence they've been pretty busy months.

Married life is treating us pretty wonderfully so far. I've started a new (and much nicer) job, and the munchkin has started his full-time schooling career. Big changes for all, but we're managing well enough.

And now I'll stop waffling and Show You The Pretty.

We expected to have pretty decent weather, given that we held our wedding in the middle of July. Unfortunately it was in fact the wettest July for a century. *sigh* Our wedding day was a little drizzly in the morning, but fined up just enough to allow outside photographs after the ceremony.

My mum arrived in Hertfordshire the day before the wedding. I hadn't seen her for more than two years and it was overwhelming and wonderful to have her there. She also kept us *just* this side of sane as various things went inevitably awry at critical moments!

On the morning of the wedding we went over to the reception venue and got it all set up with the help of Ellie's wonderful brother and sister-in-law. That all went off smoothly, and despite unexpected traffic we still got back to the house in time to meet the hairdresser. We got all dolled up and then dodged the drizzle to climb into a car with *no back doors* (yes that was quite a feat in those dresses!) and get down to the ceremony venue.

We got married at The Bury, Hemel Hempstead’s registry office:
http://www.hertsdirect.org/statweb/movingeye/hemel.html

Here we are waiting nervously in the small ceremony room before the ceremony, with my mum, the munchkin, and our flower girl:

More waiting:























A note on my jewellery - the crystal earrings and necklace were a gift from my maternal grandfather to my mother, decades ago. She's had them in reserve for me for years, and I'd always intended to wear them on my wedding day.

We walked down the aisle (such as it was - very short as we had to come in a side door instead of the main door due to some light rain!) to "Forever" by Debra Arlyn:



The song was one Ellie found on a youtube video of a German lesbian couple's wedding, and it struck both of us as just so perfect.

The ceremony was short but sweet. We only had one reading, and it will forever make us slightly cross but resigned that the woman who read it (not our lovely celebrant in the picture, but another registry official) flubbed the last line and changed the meaning entirely. Thankfully most people heard it the right way around anyway!

“Love is a temporary madness; it erupts like volcanoes and then subsides. And when it subsides you have to make a decision. You have to work out whether your roots have so entwined together that it is inconceivable that you should ever part. Because this is what love is. Love is not breathlessness, it is not excitement, it is not the promulgation of eternal passion. That is just being in love, which any fool can do. Love itself is what is left over when being in love has burned away, and this is both an art and a fortunate accident. Those that truly love have roots that grow towards each other underground, and when all the pretty blossoms have fallen from their branches, they find that they are one tree and not two.”

For anyone listening closely, there was a little gasp in the background. My lovely artist friend Sarah had, all unknowing, created a painting for us as a wedding gift... of two intertwined trees. She couldn't have chosen a more perfect subject!

Here we are moments after Ellie put my ring on my finger:

During the signing of the register, we listened to "Flora's Secret" by Enya.  It's one of my favourite Enya songs (and Enya is one of my favourite musical entities), and I played it for Ellie pretty early on in our relationship.



The signing mockup photo (we'd already done the actual signing when facing the other way!):

First kiss:

We processed out to "Feeling Good" by Nina Simone. This one was Ellie's idea as I wasn't familiar with it; but as soon as she played it I knew it was right. Civil marriage & partnership ceremonies cannot contain any religious messages or references, but to me (as a nature-loving pagan) this is practically a hymn.



Various set shots from the garden…

Me and my mum :)

One day when we were starting to think about ordering wedding rings, Ellie said "I think what I really want is a rose gold wedding ring." I'd never considered anything other than white gold, but again she was right. They are beautiful (and comfortable!) and I have only taken mine off once since the wedding day.

Our simple but happy-making décor at the reception:

We had home-made favours (bulk chocolates wrapped in baking foil and tied up in mesh bags, secured with a wired rose) and I printed the table numbers and labels at home, just as I did all of the other stationery.

The cake was one of the aforementioned 'awry' moments. We were planning to get our names and decals to match the stationery printed on a large sheet cake, but the cake printing machines at both local stores broke and it was too late to get to anywhere else, so we improvised. The crystal hearts were the only remnant of the original plan; they are napkin rings that were given to my paternal grandmother on her wedding day.

Our reception was just lovely. I had set up a slideshow of images juxtaposing my childhood with Ellie's - matching first days of school, awkward high school pictures, and so forth. It made for a great conversation piece and icebreaker, as well as allowing for nostalgia on the part of our families. It was also a way to ensure that our absent fathers (in Australia on my part, deceased on Ellie's) were there with us.

A good friend of mine read out a letter from my Dad, and my two maternal uncles also sent 'telegrams' that were read by my Mum during her speech. Ellie's brother made a speech too which brought the house down. He talked about Ellie as a child: "I remember her kind of as a giant book with curly hair and little feet. She'd come running after me... 'Matt! Matt! Matt! Did you know...' and I'd just know I was going to miss Dangermouse." We laughed until we cried. It was everything a big brother's speech should be.

I made a bit of a speech too, and I think I was fairly coherent if a little rambly from nervousness. Luckily when I was running out of things to say the munchkin came up to me and said "Christine, do you know what? I can see a CAKE." and that gave me the perfect out! The munchkin later made his own speech which entertained everyone mightily and is still discussed whenever my wedding is mentioned amongst friends.

Later on the dance floor got going, and despite not having "My Sharona" in his collection (WTF?) the DJ did a stellar job. Watching my Mum get up and do some well-known party dance (a British equivalent to the Hucklebuck) with Ellie's relatives and various British friends was a highlight of the evening. We were there until the waiters gave up, switched the lights on and started clearing up!

It was a brilliant, wonderful, fantastic day and I couldn't have wished for better - not even including wishing for sunshine as I can always reflect that at least it wasn't too hot!

I am very happy that all the months of planning went off so well, that the image I had in my head came to life closely enough that I was completely satisfied. Everyone and everything was wonderful, basically.

Next up: a recap of our GLORIOUS honeymoon. Brace for a picturesplosion!

Engagement :)

I'm sure it's old news to everyone who reads this, but E and I got engaged a few weeks ago. We have a provisional date booked - July 14th 2012 - and the beginnings of a format. The civil partnership ceremony will take place in our Hertfordshire town, in the local registry office's larger ceremony room, followed by a big party at a community centre not far away. We're doing it all on a budget and enjoying finding creative ways to save.

Some things we've already discovered:
- The problem with wedding dresses is that they are intended to make the wearer the centre of attention... a problem when you've got two brides! We are solving that by going with non-traditional dresses, but that's the last I'll be saying about our dresses until after the wedding. They are a surprise!

- Photographers' websites are awful and the worse the website, the more expensive the photographer.

- All of our local florists order their wedding flowers from Interflora and therefore have exactly the same range. We're going to have to go in and talk to them about bespoke arrangements.

- How hard is it to get flat wedding invites these days? I don't want to post ribbon bows and crystals to Australia!

- Our plan for inexpensive catering is making me very happy.

- People are lovely and so far no-one has done a double-take at the Civil Partnership deal (and some suppliers actively advertise their willingness to service them).

The wedding's still more than 10 months away so the planning is in its early stages, but I'll be sure to keep you all updated as my adventures progress. It's not every day one gets to plan a lesbian wedding!

Lesbian

A few people have privately pinged me about the fact that my info, both here and elsewhere, now says 'lesbian' instead of 'bisexual'.

A lot of pondering went into that change. I identified as bisexual for eleven years (secretly for the first ten years) so it is a label that I had come to find comfortable. However, the more I thought about it the more inaccurate and inadequate it became. Similarly, although I used to feel ambivalent about the exotic, othering 'lesbian' label, it had become familiar and I was ready to accept it. Identifying as bisexual felt wrong, while the lesbian label felt right.

The kinds of questions I'm being asked about this are: Have you changed from a bisexual to a lesbian? Or were you a lesbian all along? If so, what about that 10-year string of heterosexual relationships?

They're good questions, and I have been trying to answer them myself. It's difficult to consider one's own past objectively, but I have tried to be at least critical of my experience so that I can answer accurately.

It's true that until this year I believed I was attracted to men as well as women. I was convinced of this despite all available evidence, that being that my relationships with men routinely sucked and were devoid of physical and emotional satisfaction. (Yes, I do mean all of them. Sorry, any exes reading this, but them's the breaks. And really, if you're smart enough to read this blog you must have realised just how badly matched we were). I persisted with the pursuit of a safe, respectable heterosexual relationship despite proving to myself time and time again that they just didn't work for me. There were other issues at play in some of my poor partner choices - emotional baggage not related to my sexuality - but normalcy was part of it. I didn't want to rock the boat, so I kept on trying, one disaster after another.

I don't think I was ever truly bisexual. The frequency and potency of my attraction to women has been largely unchanged since my childhood (even when I thought I was just desiring a close friendship) and it has blossomed since I accepted that this is the only way for me. Without the red herring of "needing" a normal heterosexual relationship I can't imagine why I ever wanted one in the first place!

I'm wearing the 'lesbian' label with pride and joy today, where once it used to both frighten and tantalise. And I am very, very happy to own that element of myself. It feels like coming home.

Feasts, Friends and a New Year...

Last weekend I took my first step into autocrating SCA events, running a Winter Feast at the marvellously-named Place House Hall in Ware, Hertfordshire. It's a medieval hall, small but picturesque inside, and it makes a lovely venue. My best mate A was my feast cook and mentored me through the autocrating process admirably. We had a couple of food stuff-ups along the way, but between the two of us we put an elegant and extensive repast on the table in a fantastic location. I also introduced my Thamesreach Singers group with great pride - we sang six period pieces very competently, to the general approval of the attending populace. It was a great night, and a successful start to event-running for me. Yay :)

Term has been underway for a little over two weeks now. I'm so glad to have my own class again, and I've had compliments from every quarter about how quiet and settled they are under my guidance. I feel competent and confident, quite unlike a lot of my earlier teaching experiences! My class are lovely, and I can have a giggle with them and still get them to work, which is great. I am really enjoying myself, and never go to work feeling any apprehension. What a lovely change from so many past workplaces.

These past few weeks I've been struck with joy and gratitude for the friendships I have. E, of course, first and foremost, who is best friend and lover and everything in between. I had never, ever imagined that a relationship could feel like this! Every day I relish it a little bit more for its marvellous perfection, and each day I'm a little more convinced that trying to be in relationships with men was a big part of what I was getting wrong all these years. Being with E just works.

As well as E, I'm lucky enough to be surrounded by a group of people who know the real me, nothing hidden and nothing to hide. And they love me, and care for me, and look out for me, and appreciate me. And beyond them, a wider group of people who perhaps don't know me as well, but nonetheless care for me greatly and will always be there for me. I had the strange experience before Christmas of walking into a pub where a corner was filled with these people, and seeing every face in the group of about 15 light up as I walked in, just because I was there. How bizarre and heady for someone whose deepest demon is invisibility!  I feel so secure in myself these days, and it shows in the quality of my friendships.

These wonderful relationships stand in stark contrast to the negatives, backhanded positives and subtle undermining I was used to from various family members and a few extinct friendships. Every now and then something of that behaviour will intrude from people from my past, and it's amazing how poisonous it feels when once it was normal. I am finding myself better able to ignore it now ... a few peoples' email addresses have been blocked so that I need only read their communications if I feel like it! And I have learned not to react, and only to respond if absolutely necessary. Poison and misery are not things I choose to engage with these days.

So generally... I'm busy, and happy, and loving my life more with every week that passes. It feels good!

Bisexuality, Again...

Usual disclaimer: this is about sex, sexuality and the philosophies thereof. It may contain details. Do not read if you're squeamish about any of the above.

About 11 days ago, when the events began to kick off that led to me becoming involved with my darling girl E, I had a moment of sheer panic. What if all those bitchy naysayers about bisexuality had been right? What if I was just looking for attention or trying to be special? What if I found myself in an intimate situation with a girl and realised that I was in fact not really attracted to women that way at all? I believed I was bisexual and had gone as far as kissing and that felt fine, but for a moment I wondered whether it really was all in my head.

Thankfully the panic was over quickly and turned out to be entirely unfounded. Not only was it great, but it was far, far better than anything I'd ever experienced with a man. That is not to insult the men I've had relationships with - well, not to insult the few of them who actually had decent skills - but being with a girl felt right in a way that heterosexual relations have never done for me.

While potentially triggering another round of 'what is my sexuality, exactly?', this also opened my eyes to the very real difference between heterosexuality / homosexuality and bisexuality. I simply cannot imagine only being attracted to a single sex. I may have spent 20 years of my life being unknowingly bisexual and another 10 largely pretending I wasn't, but it was there in my mind... there to the core. To me the 'either or' mindset is so familiar, natural and comfortable. I had a stark moment of realisation that most people are genuinely only interested in one gender, one way or another. It struck me just how weird that was to me, and equally just how weird bisexuality must seem to those who don't experience it.

The long-awaited confirmation that this really truly is who I am forced me to confront the fact that this is something that most people are not. A very strange moment. A defining moment of identity that was really very meaningful and special, and I don't want it to be eclipsed by the general squeeing over-excitement that currently fills my days.

I am bisexual. Naturally, fundamentally, from birth to death, to the core. This is part of who I am.


And I am proud that I am finally whole.


Welcome to Christine :)

Weekend Away

This past weekend I went to Newmarket, near Cambridge, for the local SCA shire's Yule Ball. I had a great time and was able to wear my brand-new cotehardie, which I've been working on, on and off, since July. It turned out very well and was widely admired. I also managed to spill wine on it, but it wouldn't be me if I didn't. ;) It'll come clean!

The weekend also marked a milestone for me, in that I drove using my newly-minted British licence for the first time, all the way from London to Newmarket and back, in a big hire car, with 4-5 passengers and loads of baggage, over icy streets in parts no less! I was very nervous beforehand, and when we set off from my friends' house for the long evening journey to Newmarket my legs were shaking! But all went well, and I feel moderately confident about driving in London now. Not something I want to do every day, but if it has to be done, I can do it.

I'm the only driver of that group of people, and I have no doubt that I will be doing it again, as we as a group have formed an SCA household. It's been coming for a while, but we had an impromptu meeting in the car on the way home and got our name, charge, badge and motto established and talked a bit about what we want to do as a household. It's a true household of kindred spirits - some are actual kin, others just spiritual kindred. The level of closeness is amazing, and it spins me around that I'm part of it. I have several other friends that close in Australia, people I am completely comfortable and open with, but for sheer amount of time spent together I don't think I have ever been as close to anyone as I am to the couple who are the core of the household. The experience of complete loving-friendship-trust-openness is heady and wondrous. I've craved that kind of connection for a long time, and now that I have it I can't quite believe it. It takes my breath away.

And yet, as always it seems with me, the awareness of that connection leaves me wistful about an even deeper connection that I lack. I have a safer, more complete connection with these friends than I've had in any actual relationship I've been in. In fact these friendships characterise everything my 'love' relationships have not been. My whole dating history is characterised by sad, sour, unsafe, angry, dramatic, unloving, denigrating and ultimately short relationships. (The only former partner with whom I had a good, healthy connection is 14,500km away and may never live in the same city as me again, so although I think the potential for this kind of connection is there, I can't count on it ever being a regular part of my life.) With that one exception, I have never been able to relax and love and trust anyone like I love and trust these friends, and being in their presence, as much as I love it, reminds me of what I've never had.

And it hurts.

I want so badly to find my way to that deeper level of connection. There must be more wonderful, self-loving, accepting, dear, true people in the world! In London, even! But I don't know how to find them, and the odds of them being both free and interested in me seem so minuscule.

I'm still so full of doubt about myself, my identity and where I fit in the world. Finding one place that I fit, one set of hearts with whom I click, throws into stark contrast the emotional chaos surrounding the rest of my life.

Argh, I don't know... I want to just be happy about what I've got but the ache won't go away.

*sigh*

Processing

I am going to write this and subsequent posts on the assumption that the ex has sensibly deleted the bookmark and is no longer reading this blog, as I have done for his. He deleted and blocked me on facebook, so I think it's safe to say that this blog is an ex-free zone and I can speak my mind freely. If I'm wrong, well... he's reading this and knowing that a) I don't want him here, and b) anything he reads from this point on is at his own risk. So.

I moved out on Saturday, finally. It was very nasty, in the end. On Thursday we were having a great time. He was saying he was still attracted to me, and was so glad we'd stayed friends. He was telling me what he was getting me for Christmas and gave my sore shoulders a massage. And I thought: yeah. A truly amicable breakup. How nice.

On Saturday he was in a foul mood, called me an ungrateful little shit, accused me of a number of things he'd invented in his own head, and forced me to move out a day early with wet clothes and hot soup in tow. It was ugly and horrid and I ended up calling friends in tears - wonderful true real friends who came running and soothed me and looked after me until I was laughing again. The next day, at some point, I found he'd deleted and blocked me. The same man who'd begged me to stay friends when we broke up.

*sigh*

But honestly, in a way I'm glad. This kind of come-here-go-away, I-love-you-I-hate-you crap was the theme throughout our relationship. When he was in a good mood it was wonderful. When he was in a bad mood there was nothing I could do right, and his complete lack of trust coupled with an inability to understand that he could be wrong made getting through to him a nightmare. Everything I said was twisted against me, even as I was accused of doing the same to him. Every attempt at reasoning was met with wild histrionics. It was impossible. Seeing that again one last time at least takes away any need to be friends, and any possibility of nostalgic backsliding. I am so totally uninterested in ever going there again.

I had truly hoped that we could be friends, as we do share some fun interests. But at the end of the day, I have a wonderful set of friends who are also safe, stable, excellent people. I don't want or need friends who act in such an ugly and unloving way. Anyone who swings between those extremes has problems... and is not my problem.

Naturally I've been processing all this madly over the past two days. My brain won't be still. I'm constantly trying to rationalise and reason and find a way to explain things that, at least in my head, might actually get through to him. I know this is a phase and it'll go away as I get through the natural grieving process, but it's making me a bit batty. I don't want to argue with him one second longer. I've had enough.

This evening I suddenly remembered that I'm not obliged to make sense of him any more. His mood swings, his inventions, his OCDs, his deliberate non-listening followed by accusations of having never been told... none of it matters, and none of it is my problem. His twisted logic can't hurt me any more, so when I remember bits of it I don't have to sort through it for some kind of pattern or sense. I can shrug my shoulders, roll my eyes, say "rubbish!" and move on. Hurrah.

Life is picking up and moving forward, and I am already so much happier than I could ever have been in that relationship. I can see my future life taking shape in a glorious way, full of love and security and hearts and people and community and place and kin and home. It looks good :)

Doing What You Know

When it was over, there was relief. Not just because the drama had stopped, but because I knew what to do next.

I know how to grieve.

I know the steps, I know the feelings, I know the score (literally, I still have all my GPYP playlists). I looked down the tunnel of that process with a feeling of familiarity and comfort, and the knowledge that I knew how to handle it.

Grieving the breakup was the easy part. The hard part was making the break in the first place.

And I've realised that there's a pattern there. In four of my last five relationships I hung on for months after I knew it wasn't going to work out. In each case, it took a single defining moment to call it quits. In this case, it was a moment where I was no longer angry but just utterly fed up and tired, and so was he. Before that - and before the defining moments in the other relationships - I just couldn't bring myself to step up and break it off. And I don't know why.

After all I've learned, why do I still commit completely to things before I know if they're viable, and then cling so tenaciously when it turns out that they're not?

I wasn't looking for a relationship when I came over here ... in fact I was intending to be a free spirit and perhaps have a few casual partners, much like my life in the last couple of months before I left Perth. And yet I dived back into an absolutely classic dysfunctional Christine relationship the moment one became available.

I've learned better and I was looking for something else, and yet I still grabbed it when it came along.

Clearly I still have a lot of work to do.

And sometimes things end.

It's bewildering that one can live, ignoring the bad stuff and highlighting the good stuff, while the fun dwindles and the fights increase, until one day, with barely a sputtering spark, the whole thing is just over and done with.

It's odd that once it's out there in black and white, the pressure is off and respect can return.

It's amazing that you can cry, grief rising up from the bottom of your heart, while feeling relief so intense it's almost joy.

It's strange that you can miss someone when they're right there next to you.

It's breathtaking to find out how many friends you have and how much they care.

It's marvellous to feel free and alive again.

It's surreal to learn that hugs are inside you.

It's a blessing to know oneself.

Here's to adventure.

Four Years

I was answering a message board post just now, and looked up the date of my first blog post. Weirdly enough, it was today, four years ago. Bizarre!

I absolutely boggle when I think of how much  has happened in the last four years. In September 2006 I was working as a project assistant in the gap year between quitting archaeology and starting my teaching degree. I was sharing a house with a best friend who is no longer my friend at all. I was still living through the three year recovery from my first genuinely abusive relationship, and had no idea that a line-up of three quite awful relationships were on the menu for the following three years.

Three years ago I'd finished my final teaching prac and was struggling with the resultant feeling that I couldn't teach at all. I was living with my parents and wondering what the future held and where I would go next. I was also experiencing high school reunions for the first time.

Two years ago I was just days away from ending a disaster relationship, and had no idea that the grief that was still to come would plunge me into the incredible journey of self-discovery that has lead me to where I am now. The me of September 2008 had so much still to come.

This time last year I was again on the road to recovery after another horror relationship and my first (and hopefully last) experience of physical assault. I was still stumbling around in a daze in many ways, but had also made significant progress, and had taken the wild and life-changing step of joining the SCA, a decision that has shaped my life ever since.

Four dramatic, turbulent, soul-searing, growing, knowing years.

I wonder what the next four will hold?

Abandonment

When you’re wrapped up in a lifelong depressive dysfunctional mess, it’s very hard to focus on any particular problem. There’s so much swirling crazy noise that you can’t hear yourself think.

As you work through grief and start to heal, some of the noise subsides, and you can hear other parts of it more clearly.

Lately, I've found that the noise of inadequacy and inferiority has settled to a low hum, allowing me to hear less pressing issues more clearly. And the one that’s shouting the loudest is abandonment.

I’ve been reluctant to call anything in my life experience “abandonment” until now – that good old feeling of inferiority tells me that my problems are not bad enough to warrant attention – but the fact is that my reactions scream “abandonment issues”, so regardless of whether I deserve them, I've got them.

I don’t know exactly what in my past has caused me to freak out when I think someone is physically or emotionally deserting me. There are some strong candidates: my mother going back to work when I was 4; mother’s decision to leave the marriage when I was 13; my father’s crazy-cakes behaviour with his first post-marriage girlfriend the same year; my whole family’s tendency to emotionally ‘check out’ and withdraw love during conflict. I suspect it’s all of these things together.

The only time I remember having an abandonment-specific reaction is during my father’s tumultuous relationship, when he did literally abandon my brother and I by disappearing to go and see the girlfriend in the middle of the night, and ultimately by handing custody of us over to my mother because he couldn’t cope with both the girlfriend and us. That abandonment stung, and I still get upset thinking of one night when I had the ‘flu and woke up vomiting and alone because my father had gone off again. However, although that had a powerful effect on me, the way I react to perceived abandonment now bears more resemblance to how I react to my mother’s withdrawal tactics during arguments.

The way I want to react to perceived abandonment is pretty flaily and crazy-making. If I feel like someone has pulled away from me, or is shutting me out, or has gone non-responsive, I feel panicky. I want to get their attention and reassurance as fast as possible. I want to talk to them, message them, email them, hound them to get reassurance that they’re not abandoning me. If it goes on too long I start to get angry… I want to provoke them, annoy them, get them to argue with me: anything to get them to notice me. If it becomes too emotionally charged I start to want to do dramatic things. I have never self-harmed but I’ve fantasized about it, or wished I could be severely injured or sick so that people would “be sorry”. These thoughts were rife in my teenage years (I think that’s not uncommon) but I still occasionally find them cropping up when I feel abandoned.

As you can see, the whole thing is a pretty crazy reaction that can lead to a sharp downwards spiral.

I’ve become very conscious and critical of these abandonment reactions lately. I don’t want to be someone who drives friends and loved ones crazy with constant pestering for reassurance. I know I’ve pestered people in the past. I also know that some people (probably unconsciously) have used my need for reassurance to deliberately keep me off-balance or to ‘punish’ me. Both of those are good reasons to get the reactions sorted out.

I can control the reaction – several times lately I’ve had to sit on my hands and not flail to deal with a person’s apparent (or in a couple of cases, actual) withdrawal. I’m proud that I haven’t gone off the deep end on any of these occasions, and have only outwardly reacted by mentioning one or two of these events on this blog. But inside – there’s a weepy, flaily abandonment-fearing crazyperson wanting to get out. There have been tears when no one is looking, and a lot of hand-sitting and attempts at self-soothing to stop myself from going nuts.

That’s what I’d like to try to do next – get those internal reactions under control. To feel okay about people pulling away, and accept the comings and goings (whether actual or imagined) calmly without feeling like my world will fall apart if I can’t get a person to acknowledge me right away. I’m not quite sure where to start, but it’s something I’ll be doing a lot of thinking about over the next few weeks.

Hmm

In the blog post about bisexuality I revealed something I'd kept secret for a long time: my former attraction to my former best-friend-since-high-school. I noticed today that the girl in question has de-friended me on facebook sometime in the past week or so - I can't quite remember the last time I saw a post of hers, but it wouldn't have been very long ago.

I didn't mention her by name, but if she'd read my blog post she would have been able to identify herself. I was operating on the assumption that she wouldn't read it, because she's gone out of her way to demonstrate how much she doesn't give a damn about me (this has been her attitude for many years, even before our friendship officially blew up). But perhaps she is reading, and did see, and that's why she de-friended me. *shrug*

I'm trying hard not to care. It is triggering my abandonment issues like crazy, and there's some unresolved grief there too, both for the friendship and for the unrequited attraction. I spent years and years hanging around, hoping she would be as into the friendship as I was, not daring even for a minute to admit that what I felt for her was more than friendship. She was often a lousy friend and sometimes treated me as badly as many of my boyfriends, and it hurt all the more because I secretly loved her. A pretty dysfunctional fourteen-year mess!

So I'm a bit hurt and a bit sad, but grateful for the loving people I have around me, and glad that I'm confident and happy enough that I can work through the loss and let everything about that friendship go. My life is here and now, and it's wonderful... and she is not in it. There it ends.

Lost and Found

Sometimes life whomps you so hard and so unexpectedly that there's nothing you can do but sit back and wait for it to stop. You can't rationalise or plan or do anything really except let the feelings come and go and accept them as they pass.

The past 11 days have been like that for me.

Tuesday of the week before last, I went to a Bi Underground meeting in a north London pub. It was just a social thing, and I was hoping to meet other fun, geeky, open-minded people to hang out with. Nothing too challenging.

After about half an hour, a guy walked in (henceforth, SK). My eyes met his.

WHOMP.


We've now been 'officially' together for a little over a week, and it is amazing. We are on the same page and in sync in so many ways that it's just scary and bizarre that we met in such a random way. This one is really, really, really good. For 5 days I was completely delirious with excitement.

WHOMP.


On Thursday my favourite London school offered me, via my recruitment company, a 6-week supply posting covering a teacher that's been called up for jury duty. She'll be out until the end of the school year, securing my income until the summer holidays, which is a fantastic relief.

WHOMP.

On Sunday night I had trouble sleeping, and on Monday on my way to work, my mobile phone rang. It was my brother in Perth, and right away I knew what it must be. My beloved grandfather Paul had passed away peacefully mid-afternoon Perth time. He had dementia and repeated lung infections and was in a nursing home, and we knew he could go at any time. I knew I wouldn't be home for it when I left, but that's no consolation now.

WHOMP.

One of my aunts did offer to pay for me to go back to Perth for the funeral, but not only would I lose income, I'd also lose this extended posting at the school, and probably wipe out any chance of a year-long job with them after the holidays. It wouldn't be worth it to go home. But I feel such a terribly long way away from my family. Mum is missing me dreadfully (even though she told me not to come back for the funeral, she wishes I was there) and I just want to hug my family and be near them right now.

I miss my grandfather so much. It was time and more for him to go, but now I will never, ever hear his voice again. It's taken me a few days to come to grips with the sadness - through the week I've been putting on a brave face and coping as well as I can, but as the surreal feeling fades and the reality takes hold, I'm falling down inside.

Dickens had it right - it was the best of times and the worst of times. I can't balance up the amazingness of finding SK and the relief of this teaching position and the grief of losing Paul. It won't all fit in my head.

I feel whomped.

So I'm drifting and waiting for it all to make sense again.

Hugsickness

I've been a little sad and teary the last few days, and I've been struggling to put a label on the feeling.

It's not homesickness, per se - I don't want to be back in Perth and I'm still very glad to be here in gorgeous, amazing London.

It's not exactly missing my friends. I do miss them, but with the wonder of the internet they're barely more than a few clicks away most of the time (though the fact that the majority were offline because they were doing SCA camping together this weekend didn't help!). I don't feel the bonds of friendship loosening or slipping away at all.

What I'm missing is physical contact.

I don't mean that in a sexual/loving way (though I do miss that too, and there's a certain guy and certain girl who know who they are and whose presence I ache for constantly). I just miss the regular, garden variety, warm, comforting hugs of friendship.

I've been utterly spoiled these last few months. So many wonderful close friendships have sprung up, overwhelmed my life and changed it forever. And I miss, so terribly much, the arms of those people around me.

I'm not homesick, just hugsick. :(

This is not an easy one to solve, either. I know that new friendships will grow, and new people with whom I truly click will appear in my life and become huggy friends. But I have absolutely no control over that process. I can't force it or speed it up. So for the moment I just have to ride out the aches and longing and trust that it'll be okay in the end.

And I think it will.

Still here ... honestly ...

I can't really apologise for failing to blog lately. I haven't even been trying. Putting words to my life right now just gives me flaily panicky feelings most of the time.

So here's some things that have been happening . . .

I leave for the UK in 3 weeks tomorrow. All the paperwork is done and I'm almost half packed (or something like that ...). Right now there is a lot of chaos around and bits and pieces of things I need to get done, which isn't really very much fun. I'm not having second thoughts exactly, but I'm finding myself frequently almost paralysed with fear that this will go horribly wrong.  My chief fear is running out of money. Logically I know that I will have work, and it is going to be steady work, and if the teaching work is not quite enough I can waitress or something too, but I'm terrified of being alone in a strange city with no money. Silly terror since I will plan to avoid exactly that and will know well in advance if that is a likely outcome, but still. I am so scared it hurts.

I just need to breathe. I know it'll be ok. I'll make it ok.

*

I got 82% on my first assignment for the year. It was a theology assignment so that's quite impressive - my first essay in a new discipline! When the tutor starts the comments with the words "your essay's only weakness...", you know you've done okay. I'm still enjoying both the theology and the literature units, and still thinking about doing higher level study in both of them. I just can't make up my mind which order to do them in! Master of Ministry first, or literature PhD? Hmm. Oh well, I won't finish the BA until mid-2013 so I have a while to decide.

*

I'm struggling a little at the moment with the feeling that I've managed to get my 20s and 30s arse-backwards. I spent the whole of my 20s chasing the dream of settling down and having a family, and failing at it miserably. Now I'm about to enter my 30s and getting to the age where time for that is ticking away rapidly, and yet I've suddenly discovered the joy of being free and untethered, and I want to get out there and have random relationships and new experiences and not aim to be tied down at all for a good while yet. And through that I risk running out of time to have a family.

There's nothing I can do about it except trust that it will work out okay (and remember that the women in my family have had healthy pregnancies well into their 40s so I shouldn't fear running out of time all that much), but I can't help the feeling of wanting to stamp my feet and shriek that it's not fair. It's like I'm trying to cram everything that my 20s should have been into the last few precious months before I hit my 30s, and I'm getting so confused about what I want and where I want it. I think, overall, that the London move will make this easier not harder - new people and places and contexts in which I can safely explore my real, full identity without the weight of peoples' presuppositions and past knowledge. I am determined not to hide anything about myself amongst my new friends in London. I've spent so much time concealing so much of me in Perth that I'm now hemmed in to the outer identity I've woven. There's a few people who get the full version of Christine (hi, Hilary) but not many. I want everyone to know the whole Christine from now on, and it's easier to begin that with a clean slate in a new city. I hope.

*

I'm currently enjoying a ... thing ... with a guy, which is very sane and comfortable and enjoyable and undemanding and affectionate and lovely. We both know it's going nowhere because I'm leaving the country, but it's enough for right now. How ironic that the "thing" that is ostensibly not a relationship is the healthiest relationship I've ever had. What was that phrase again? Oh yeah, "arse-backwards". That's the one. *headdesk*

*

My grandfather is in hospital with "multiple infections", after having been hospitalised for pneumonia and sent home again. He is quite ill and very uncomfortable. A small part of my brain is in full-scale freak-out over this, but the rest of my brain can't deal and has just shut the door and said kindly but firmly that we'll deal with that if and when we have to, and not before. I'm feeling a lot of guilt about this - afraid that it's an unnatural Aspie reaction that people would find cold and heartless - but it's the only way I can cope at the moment. I have so many things on my "oh hey there potential meltdown" list that the only way I'm surviving is by refusing to acknowledge them. I'm pretty sure there'll be an episode of rather cathartic stormy weeping when I hit a calm spot, but I'll deal with that later too.

*

I am trying to sell my car. I've never sold a car before. I don't really want to sell this one. Bah.

*

I have reached the point where I need to rehome my beautiful wonderful cat, Jemima. This is another thing I know I'll cry about when I finally let go, but I can't let go just yet. If you're in the Perth area and want a cat, consider giving Jemima a home. She is a darling. This is where she is right now . . . I was lying on the bed under a brown blanket doing uni readings, and she lay down next to me pressed right up against my body. When I got up and went back to the computer, she made a nest out of the blanket and curled up in it. D'awwww.

*

This song by Kelly Clarkson is where I am at right now:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZLUmlyuXonk

*

I think I've pretty much covered everything. Welcome to my life right now. It is complicated!

Now that I've got all of this out of my system I'm hopeful that I'll be back to regular blogging. I've been frozen in silence for a while, but I've broken through, so now there may be a flood ...

Torn in Half

This evening I went to the Newcomer's Feast, which will probably be my last SCA event in Aneala (aka Western Australia). I leave in 8 weeks and although there's a couple of events between now and then, I either can't go or they're not major ones.

I had a wonderful time, but after court was closed I got a heavy, sad feeling and although I would normally stay to help clean up, I realised that bailing before bawling is usually the best option. The tears started on the way to the car and lasted most of the way home. I'm feeling a little better now that I'm home and out of my very warm bliaut and showered and in comfy clothes, but I can feel that the tears are still lurking. One of the GPYP tenets is to give sorrow words, so this is me, wording my sorrow.

I have made a whole lot of wonderful friends in the SCA here in Perth. I love the way they play the game, and although I'm still a newcomer and still feel on the outre at times, there are some people with whom I've developed great bonds and friendships, and whom I will miss dreadfully when I leave.

I know I need to go and I would regret turning away and never having the wonderful experiences that are waiting over the horizon in the UK. I need to do this, and yet part of me thinks I'm incredibly stupid to be taking my life apart. Bits of it didn't work at all, but other bits work very well and I feel awful leaving them behind.

I want to be in two places at once, and I can't, and right now I feel like it's tearing me into two pieces.

I also feel lonely at the moment. I watch and admire and adore the couples in good, healthy relationships - I can see pretty clearly which ones are and aren't, these days - and I want that. I know I'm supposed to be building my life and being whole and happy by myself, but sometimes I just want someone else to share things with. I know it will come in time, and I should enjoy the moment, but I right now I'm just impatient. I want real love, and I want it now, damn it.

I'm sure tomorrow I'll get up and go on, but tonight my spirit is sore.

Freedom

Today is an important day.

Today, I am not with an arrogant alcoholic.
Today, I am not with a crazy-making drama-llama.
Today, I am not with a manipulative liar.
Today, I am not with an emotional abuser.
Today, I am not with a thick-as-a-brick idoliser.
Today, I am not with a self-absorbed twat.
Today, I am not with an incompatible kid.
Today, I am not with a deadbeat loser.

I call that a win.

Don't you?

Matters of the Heart

Twice recently, an old friend has come in to do a bit of shopping while I've been on the checkouts at work.

This friend was part of my close group in year 12, and the subject of a crush that lasted most of the year ;) We were friends first, and spent a lot of time chatting on the phone and in person that year; by the end of the year he was well aware of the crush, but managed to gently make clear the fact that while he loved the friendship, the feelings weren't reciprocated enough to start anything at that point. And I was ok with that - a little disappointed of course, but hey, I was 16 and it was a crush. No biggie.

I've hardly thought about him since then, except for the odd memory or a do-you-remember session with other friends from that group. I ran into him once at uni when he was getting his degree and chatted briefly, and we're facebook friends (though he is not a very active user) but otherwise he's not been on my mind at all.

So why, tell me, does my heart leap when I see him in person? And why does seeing him for a few minutes at work leave me with a head full of him and an irresistible desire to stalk his facebook photos to see his face?

It doesn't make any sense. It was a schoolgirl crush, 13 - count 'em, 13 - years ago. It's utterly idiotic that when he came in to work for the second time I caught my breath and blushed as soon as I saw him. WTF.

He hasn't shown any particular interest, either. He was really pleased to see me the first time, and the girl on the checkout next to mine got all giggly because he obliquely asked whether I was single, but I think that was just conversation. He hasn't made any overt effort to contact me or anything (and with FB, I'm right there) so I doubt there's any interest beyond reminiscent friendship there. Certainly nothing to spark off this ridiculous pseudo-crush my emotions seem to be having off in a corner by themselves.

WHAT THE HECK. That's all I'm asking.

Thinking and Doing

I'm at a stage in my personal healing journey now where I'm consolidating what I know and beginning to apply it. I've discovered the behaviour patterns that get me into emotional messes; I've established the childhood situations and patterns that led to these behaviours; I've identified the false beliefs and messages that have maintained the patterns; and I've learned the beliefs and patterns that need to replace my old, mess-making mindset if I'm going to live healthily. I know all this now. While I still find the odd unexplored corner, the framework is there. I know who I am and where I'm coming from. All I have to do is go out and live what I've learned.

Remember the old friend I had a catch-up with a while back, which might have been a date but wasn't? He's been quite annoying since then, inviting me to a couple of social things he's doing with his each week. Luckily they've all clashed with things I was already doing, so it hasn't been much of an issue, but yesterday he sent me a message to say that since he'd failed to get me to any of the social gatherings, he was inviting me out for dinner again. And I realised that I was going to have to draw a line right there before this goes any further. I'm not interested in dating him, and I'm not interested in seeing him constantly as a friend. I have a lot of friends I see semi-regularly (like Beth :-) *waves*) and that's what I want and need. I don't want OR need an enmeshed, intense, see-each-other-constantly friendship at the moment, especially not with someone who is ever so slightly pathetic and annoying and interested in me. That's a burden I DO NOT WANT.

So I sent him a polite response explaining that while I did want to catch up again sometime, I wasn't looking for an intense friendship and didn't want to be constantly invited to things. I felt horrible doing it - not so much because I felt bad for him (his reactions and emotional health are his business, my side of the street is clean so it's not my problem) but because of the fears I have myself of being judged as mean, displeasing etc. I've been trained through my particular life path to put others first and sublimate my own needs, to live up to the label of "supportive", "coper", "the strong one", "not as needy as your brother". So it's very hard for me to simply close the door on someone and say "No, your expectations are unreasonable or undesirable to me, and I have no intention of meeting them so please cease and desist. Back off." But that's essentially what I said (as gently and politely as could be done while still being clear and firm!).

He hasn't replied, and I know that when he does I'll have to keep a tight rein on my reactions. Whether or not I send a response to his response will depend on what he says; it's not really relevant anyway. What I need to control is how I respond within myself. I do NOT want a negative, accusatory response to send me into an emotional tailspin. Any reactive statements on his part are to do with him, not to do with me, and I have to remember that. I have to live the things I've learned, remember to deconstruct the emotions and ignore the false messages. I'm allowed to set boundaries, I'm allowed to have standards, I'm allowed to tell people to back the hell off and get off my lawn because I do not want them there*. I can. And I will. It doesn't make me bad, it doesn't mean I'm breaking the rules because I'm supposed to cope and not have needs of my own. It's a basic right. That's the message, now I have to believe it!

* He's not, like, actually on my lawn. Metaphor. :)

I have to be at school early tomorrow, as almost the entire staff are going to a PD at another Montessori school, so we're taking the school bus together (it's a pupil free day). Then we're having a short staff meeting, then people can kind of drift off. It's a long weekend too (Labor Day holiday on Monday) so the kids get 4 days off and we get three, but two short teaching weeks. I need it! We're 4 weeks into the term now, time for a slight breather lol. Nearly halfway through the term already, can you believe it? It'll be Easter before I've blinked twice, and the year is just going to slip away. Amazing how time passes.

Not a Date

I'm rather enormously proud of myself today, because I kept my head, acted with dignity, and did not get into a relationship I shouldn't have. YAY!

The not-a-date was very pleasant, overall. A and I still have a lot in common and we chatted extensively about our shared interests. At a certain point in the evening the conversation panned out exactly as I expected - he asked whether I was still seeing someone as he remembered I'd been in a serious relationship when we knew each other. I responded exactly as I intended - I explained that the relationship I'd been in had been abusive. Since I didn't feel I wanted to go out with A, I added that I'm not really dating at all at the moment. Since he is basically a decent and gentle guy, he didn't pursue it any further. We plan to hang out again at some point because we can both be unashamedly geeky around the other, but on a strictly friendship basis.

I think this is the first time EVER that I haven't ended up in a relationship with a guy who was interested in me. I've previously been so flattered that I've been sucked into a relationship despite all the red flags. The only exception was the one date I went on in Sydney, where the guy was so hideously unattractive and so blatantly condescending that I refused a second date quite comfortably. Every other time I've shut down the critical part of my brain and gone ahead with it.

The red flags in this case were not huge. I don't find him attractive in the slightest - facial features, body shape etc are all more off-putting than appealing to me so that would and should scupper a relationship right there. There were a few other things, less superficial but perhaps more important. For starters, he didn't dress in a way which I felt was appropriate: black t-shirt with a slogan on it, black shorts, boots, a quirky hat, and an earring - his "style" - which to me shows a lack of social adaptability which would bug me no end in a relationship. Taking out a girl whom you hope to ask out requires a different dress code! There were also several instances which showed that we weren't on the same level of social and emotional maturity, which would make us a poor match. None of this makes him a bad or wrong person, or makes me a bad or wrong person. We're just not the right people for each other.

So . . . I'm flattered, I'm calm, I'm at peace, and I'm still entirely single. And I'm okay with that. The right person will happen at the right time. In the meantime I will continue to make sure that *I* am becoming the right person, the strong, reasonable, boundary-setting, dignified, peaceful, joyful woman who can have good relationships. All in good time. :)