Such Glee

I miss singing so much. It has always provided an outlet for me that I can’t seem to find anywhere else but at the moment I can’t return to my singing group while Matt is there.

However …… a new Glee-style show choir has started near where I work that operates on a drop-in basis.

I went last night. We sang “Someone To Love”. We did all the parts, everyone was having a ball, I sang at the top of my voice and I have to say, we made a great sound!

Today, I am beyond happy !!

That Long Hot Summer

My lovely blogger friend, Ian published a post a while back that reminded me of the long, hot summer I had between leaving high school and starting university.

Just two days after I finished school I took a selection of clothes round to my friend's house for her to borrow on her family trip to Austrialia. She lived on the same road as Mr Delaney. I said goodbye and left her at exactly the same moment that my gorgeous economics teacher was leaving his house. He greeted me very warmly and asked what I was off to do. When I said nothing he asked me if I wanted to go to the pub with him. Of course I said yes! And that was the start of a relationship that lasted the whole of that summer.

Of course, as my teacher (I was 18, he was 28) he probably should have steered clear. But technically, I was no longer his student. We both knew it was something to keep quiet though. He never asked me to but I instinctively knew it was likely to cause trouble and so it was my big secret!

But it wasn't as seedy as maybe it sounds. He was such lovely company and I think he saw me as his very own "Pygmalion" project. He took me to art galleries and exhibitions and the theatre and he even introduced me to opera. We did "La Traviata" long before it was a famous scene in "Pretty Woman". And we went for long romantic walks and picnics. He was a great cook and he made me some fantastic meals on the nights I stayed over. He also introduced me to fantastic sex and taught me just how to make a man happy…. and said that I was a very good student !! Sometimes we just spent days in bed.

I loved the time I spent with him but he was clever enough to make me look forward to university and all the opportunities I would have there to continue to broaden my mind. So, when it was time for him to go back to school I was ready to say goodbye without any tears or angst (well, not much!)

I never saw him again. I heard a few years later that he had been out with my friend's sister for a short time, so he clearly had a thing for young girls but then, a few years after that, I heard he had married one of the games teachers at the school. I was totally shocked because she didn't seem to be his type at all. She was from New Zealand, was at least the same age as him (if not older), had a crazy, mad perm and looked and sounded like a man! The last I heard, about five or six years ago was that he'd had a heart attack and a friend told me that she saw him in town once, looking very old. He can only be in his fifties so that didn't sound good.

I wonder if he ever thinks of me. I'd like to see him again - just to say thank you. He was gorgeous and made a woman of me and gave my confidence a huge boost.

Whatever anyone else may think, I really do treasure those memories.

One Hundred Today !!

So, I was all fired up to write the follow-up to my last post, when I noticed that this entry is my 100th! ONE HUNDREDTH !! I have written a hundred posts. I mean I know that’s not such a big deal, given that I started the blog back in 2008 but still….a hundred !!

That’s a hundred little peeks into my sad old life! But actually, writing those one hundred entries has made me not so sad….. I think! It has certainly helped me along a path of discovery.

So I think I’m going to pat myself on the back! It’s not something I do often but I will today. It’s Easter after all. I shall sit back this afternoon munching chocolate and smiling at how very clever I am !!!

I’ll go back to the “woe is me” writing, next time ……. !!

Back To School

Both my children are busy revising for their exams. My daughter has her A-levels this year and my son takes his GCSEs. I feel sorry for them as their Easter hols won’t be much fun with the amount of work they have to do.

It has made me think back to my school days. I studied English, French and Economics for my A-levels and the only reason I took Economics was because it was taught by Mr Delaney!

He was also one of the games teachers and was often wandering around in his shorts. And he had a little dark-green MG sports car. He was so good-looking - all the girls thought so. He was a dark-haired version of David Soul in his “Starsky and Hutch” days. When I was in the fifth form, he winked at me once as I was heading back to the girls’ changing rooms after PE and I thought I was going to stop breathing !! (In those days nobody of the opposite sex noticed me, unless it was to take the piss out of the train-track brace on my teeth and my lank, slightly greasy hair!) But because he bothered to wink, and because he was so gorgeous, I decided to take Economics!

It was when I entered the Sixth Form that I think I started to become more aware of myself. I went through a bit of a dramatic change. The brace came off to reveal gorgeous, straight white teeth and suddenly it was easy to smile, which I did readily. I had a soft perm (come on it was the eighties - we all had one, even the boys!) and so that limp hair was suddenly voluminous with no hint of grease. Eyeliner and lipstick became my best friends and with no school uniform to hold me back, I used “Dallas” (the soap, remember?) as my fashion inspiration, particularly Ms Victoria Principal who played Pam. My legs had suddenly lengthened and the puppy fat on my thighs and hips had fallen away and so I was either in skin tight trousers and heels (which helped me to walk with a bit of a sway) or dresses with tight belts and huge shoulder pads. Come on, I looked fabulous !

I became aware of male attention for the first time in my life and finally got myself a proper boyfriend. He was one of the best looking guys in the school so I was seriously impressed with myself. I made him wait but at seventeen, I finally had sex. Probably the last girl in the school to get round to it but at last I was a proper “woman”. Thing is, I didn’t like it that much. Well what was to like? It was usually hurried and a bit fumbly and just not particularly pleasant. He certainly didn’t take me to the heights that Bobby clearly took Pam to (in “Dallas”, remember??)

I gave it just over a year but then I decided that I really needed to concentrate on my A-levels and stopped running every time he called and so, he dumped me!! It was OK. I was stressed with all the revision and my mum going on at me all the time, I didn’t need bad sex as well - though obviously at the time I didn’t know it was bad sex.

Looking back, it was probably for the best that the sex was dull. It meant that I concentrated on my revision without any desperate longing for what had been and it also meant that there was oh, so much better to come !

What Ewan Did

So, here goes.

We had been married for about five or six years. Everything seemed to be going OK. I was still caught up in the novelty of motherhood and loved lavishing all my care and attention on to both of my children as they became little people in their own right with their own likes and dislikes.

Meanwhile, Ewan had started staying back later and later at the office and when he came back would he would hit the drink. The only time he seemed really relaxed was at the weekend when he would devote all his time and attention to the children.

I thought he was having an affair. I chose to let him get on with it rather than confront him. Our sex life was practically non-existent as I was constantly tired from juggling the demands of full-time work and motherhood. I knew if I made a scene, he would throw that in my face. He was behaving more and more like a guilty man though, unable to look me in the face or have a proper conversation with me as if he was scared he would give something away.

And then one day, on a whim, I wanted to know how much we had left to pay on our mortgage but I couldn't find the file in the usual place. When Ewan got home I asked him where it was and he lost his temper with me - something he has only done a handful of times through our marriage and this was probably one of the first occasions. He shouted that he was under a lot of stress at work and he didn't need me asking ridiculous questions as soon as he set foot through the door. He really went into one and I was quite scared so I just left it.

About a week later, I was getting ready to go away to Florida for work when the doorbell rang. Ewan had just popped out to get the newspaper and so I opened it to two men. They asked for Ewan and when I said he was out they introduced themselves and said they were enforcement officers and had come to take away the car as discussed with my husband. I couldn't believe what I was hearing and as I tried to argue with them, Ewan turned up and visibly turned green. He told me to go inside and I watched from the window as he spoke to them. And then they took his car away. Just like that.

By the time he came in I was in a bit of state, screaming to find out what was going on and he said very calmly that we were in trouble and that he needed to talk to me. It was completely the wrong time as the car had come to take me to the airport and I had to leave although I was terrified about what I was going to hear.

I don't know how I got through check-in but once I was in the departure lounge I called him and over the next half hour I heard how he had got involved with a private business deal that had gone wrong and resulted in the loss of a lot of money. It might just have been OK but then he was suddenly made redundant and he couldn't bring himself to tell me. He had been going out every day looking for work and though he had got some bits and pieces, it was never enough to meet all our outgoings. He then dropped the bombshell that we were six months in arrears with the mortgage and that there was a court hearing in a couple of weeks to start repossession proceedings. I sat there in that airport unable to comprehend what I was hearing. Hundreds of people were rushing by me and yet I felt so alone.

I spent the next few days in the States in a complete trance. I don't remember anything about it.

When I got back, I took charge, to his relief but I didn't really know what I was doing. He was feeling better because he had finally got it off his chest but I was sinking fast and yet trying to hold it together. I tried calling the bank but they wouldn't talk to me now that the hearing was in place.

Walking into the County Court that day was one of the worst moments of my life. I couldn't believe I was there. I had never imagined something like this could happen to me. I went in expecting the worst. I had visions that we would be thrown out onto the streets with nowhere to go.

As it happened, it was very civilised. The man that was there to represent the bank came to talk to us before our hearing and I told him that I had come to this late because my husband had been going through depression and hadn't been able to tell me what was happening but that now I knew, we were working together and I wanted to do anything to make it right. He said he wasn't there as an enemy and wanted to help. When we went in before the judge, he said that he had spoken to me and was confident that an agreement could be reached. So the judge suspended the repossession order on condition that we paid the arrears. He was so kind to us. I would never have imagined that they could both be so understanding.

It was a difficult few months then as we had to go cap in hand to anyone that needed money from us, to ask for help with payment plans etc. We took a loan to clear the arrears as I couldn't bear to have that sword hanging over us but in retrospect it was a foolish thing to do as we rushed into it and got a bad deal and we'll be paying it off for what seems like forever and I dread the time when interest rates will inevitably rise again.

It's taken a long time to get to a position where I feel anything like in control of our finances but I can't see a time when we won't be in debt. I now insist on knowing everything about our money and what he is spending etc even though he fully learned his lesson and would never do that again ...but I can't take the risk. I'm sure he feels demeaned by having to answer to me. Money is the thing we argue about more than anything.

I never told anyone, not even my parents. They may well have been able to help us out a bit but I couldn't bear for my mother to know what a failure I had been. Because that is how I felt ....feel...even though it was his mistake.

The first person I ever told was the therapist when it all came pouring out at that very first session. He said that what Ewan did was huge and that I have every right to be angry and distrustful all these years later but I'm not sure I agree. I feel responsible. What sort of wife was I that he felt he couldn't tell me what was going on?

I made a decision to be more supportive, to make him feel "safe". After all, problems do not go away - they must be worked through or else they remain a barrier to growth. And we did work through the crisis, but then we fell into a rut and now I feel as if he has almost forgotten what he did to me when he pulled that rug of security so suddenly from under my feet.

I think maybe I am resentful that having made his mistake, I have had to make sure I take on the strain of all things financial and that in turn, he feels resentful because I'm still doing that all these years later, when we are sort of back on track.

Maybe that is why I behave so badly. THREE affairs ??

All I know is, I will never forget that day the bailiffs came and how I felt when I first heard what deep shit we were in. It still makes me cry now....and then run to check the bank statements.

That's it. That's all it was. Not such a big deal when there are women being beaten by their men, or betrayed, or forced to live in real poverty. I need to get over it and stop feeling so sorry for myself.

Trouble is, it's easier said than done.

Who Am I ?

The therapist wasn't fed up with me. He was amused that I thought he would be. He said that we would always take things at my pace but he was impressed that I had taken time out to try and think things through.

I told him about this blog. He said it was a good thing if I felt it was helping. I told him that I hadn't been able to write about what Ewan did and he said that was interesting. He asked if I thought that was part of my need for others to like me which meant I controlled what they know about me. That has made me think a lot.

Everyone has an opinion on who they are. Some think very highly of themselves and believe they are never in the wrong. Some have very low self-esteem, sometimes so bad that they can’t allow themselves to be loved as they don’t think they are worthy.

Do we really know who we are? My family, these people I live in this house with, know me best. They see the good and bad. The tantrums and the laughter.

But in terms of my friends, there is not one who knows it all. Not one who even comes close to knowing who I really am. They will only ever know what I want them to know.

And that constantly surprises me as I have friends who tell me every last detail of their life, who allow me in to see the good and the bad and who find it very therapeutic to do so. I can’t imagine that I would ever feel better by giving someone power and letting them know things about me that are not right, not good, not part of the perfect life that I pretend I have.

But also, because I have become someone who is known for being a good listener, I've noticed that on the occasions that I do tell people what's bothering me, they lose interest. I guess it’s because they see me as such an upbeat person and hearing me moaning on brings them down and they don’t want that from me.

I have come to the conclusion recently that as a result I am pretty much living a lie, or at best, just living life on the surface, and I am afraid to look within to see who I really am.

With the therapist’s help though I am confident I will eventually be able to do that and thus stop behaving badly, but it has taken me this long to understand that I really can offload on him without fear.

The trouble is that I present an image of myself to the world which I have allowed myself to believe so when something doesn't match, like this "thing" with Ewan, it confuses and upsets me. The therapist says it is probably one of the root causes as to why I feel so out of control at the moment, even though it happened such a long time ago. He suggested that I make a real effort to try and blog about it. It is not as if I haven’t tried to do that before but I have decided that now is definitely the time.

So, that will be my next post. It could take some but I refuse to write about anything else until I have got this out.

Apologies in advance…..it may be some time before you hear from me again !!

Mr Right ??

I have been trying to formulate what I want to say to the therapist later today.

I know he wants me to recognise that my marriage to Ewan is flawed. He thinks I should seriously consider our relationship and I can see why he thinks that. I can’t believe how hard that has been to do though. If I acknowledge my marriage is a failure then what am I left with? And besides, I don’t think it is a failure. I think there have been problems. I think I may be the problem. I think he has made mistakes that have affected me deeply but I still don’t want the marriage to end.

So. Does that mean I didn't find Mr Right?

After Lee (the big love of my life), I didn’t believe Mr Right existed. I wasn’t interested in falling in love again but I did want a partner to share my life with.

I was attracted to Ewan’s kind face and his personality but more to the fact that he seemed clearly smitten with me and wanted to marry me and he had everything I knew a good husband should have.

It didn’t matter that “something” wasn’t there. I liked him and he wasn’t Lee and he couldn’t break my heart and that was all that mattered. I knew by then that happy ever after doesn’t exist. Being satisfied and not unhappy was the best you could hope for.

Friendship, shared ideas and being able to laugh with each other was more important than that heady, slightly out of control feeling of being IN love as that doesn’t last forever anyway and then you’re left with resentment and the bitterness of broken, unrealised dreams. Better to do without it in the first place if you are going to commit to a lifelong relationship. Anyway, he loved me so it wasn’t as if it was absent from the partnership and in turn I treated him with great respect and tried to always make him feel special.

By marrying someone everyone approved of I felt like I was a good, dutiful daughter with the added bonus of having found a partner I actually liked while I was still relatively young. This was no act of desperation but an acceptance that it was probably the best offer I was likely to get. I had a big, expensive, lavish wedding that made my dad proud and my mum cry. Since then, it has been a conventional marriage.

He may not have been Mr Perfect but he has never been Mr Wrong.

We may not talk as much as we used to but at least our silences are companionable, not sullen. We may not share as many jokes as before but I still get a thrill of pleasure when he laughs at one of my anecdotes and I love that funny look on his face when I giggle at something he says. We may not entertain as much as we used to but when we do we’re still as good as we always were and the fact that friends are still with us late into the night means they enjoy our company and like being with us.

He has given me two beautiful children who I adore. My son is so like him and such a decent young man that it is no wonder all the girls love him. And my daughter has his gentleness which takes the sharp edges off her similarity to me.

The bottom line is, I was lucky to find someone who asked and maybe that’s why I said yes. He may not love me like he used to and maybe when he talks to me my thoughts and attention are sometimes elsewhere but whatever might be missing, I want to grow old with him. I don’t like the thought of being without him. And I think he feels the same.

He’s as right for me as I could ever be lucky enough to find. If I hadn’t said yes to him, I probably would be like many of my friends now - single, in their forties and desperate for a husband and family. I would have lurched from one disastrous relationship to another.

So I settled. But I think I settled well. I don’t think I could have found anyone better suited to me, someone who would put up with me the way he does.

Whatever it is that is making me so fundamentally unhappy, I don’t think it’s my marriage.
Or is it?? Oh! I’m not capable of thinking straight. The therapist will be fed up with me - I don’t know the answer.

This is so hard !