Home?

I've lived in my flat for just over four years, since I moved back to the city of my birth. It's the place where my family are and some of my friends. I came back to help care for sick parents. Sold a place I loved, in a place I loved and bought a flat here.


It's never felt like home. It's somewhere I've been living. Somewhere that I always hoped, thought, would be temporary. It was a choice I made, but not one that I sought out. A duty, conscience at play. But, here I am.

I spent some of the money I made on the old place making this cheaper one mine. New kitchen, bathroom, shower room. Apart from my spare bedroom, I haven't finished decorating a single room. Each needs something doing. Mostly it's small things.

The shower room door was sanded down ready for painting months ago, albeit three years after the tiling and everything else were finished. It would take me a just few hours to paint the damned ceiling and door. Still, I haven't done it.

I have only hung one picture. It's a map of Scotland. It used to hang in my office, then in my old bathroom. I'd gaze at it whilst I was on the bath and wonder where I'd travel to next.

However, in the past few months something has shifted. Maybe I've just accepted that this place is my fate for now. I've been using up some annual leave days this week. I've drunk coffee, lunched, seen friends and family, caught up with myself, slept.

I have also hung three pictures and painted my bathroom ceiling.

Maybe this place will be home soon.

A Question for the man who is not my lover

Life would be simpler if you'd never declared your feelings. What is the point of me knowing them? You dangle words of longing and need at me, with occasional declarations about a future.


Your eyes meet mine as you sit with her. I'm glad that since September this has only happened once before, this sharing of space. Glances of apology and awkwardness. I have done nothing wrong, other than share your company, listen to your declarations, feel them, let you see me.

Why then should I feel so tense? It is the words that float in the air between us. Unheard by others. There, present, in our heads and your eyes, words that don't pass your lips but are communicated nonetheless.

I want you, and I don't. I can't control what you say, but I can ask you to listen.

Ordinary is welcome

I'm pleased to be back at work today. There is some semblance of normal returning. After a festive seasons of highs, lows and confusion the everyday is very welcome.


Dad is back in his usual dementia unit within the hospital, a place that knows and cares for him well. His two days of not waking, nearly a week of not swallowing, and consequently not eating, are past. He's as up and about as he gets. A chest infection has set in, but at least it's being takien care of. I hope it passes quickly.

My mother can only demand so much of my time when there is an office to go to. She exhausts me and irritates me. She makes it hard to love her. She makes it hard to say 'no' to her.

And then there is the musician. I want him and don't in equal measure. The thoughts of him fill too much of my head. It's almost as if he wants to be found out. We are not having an affair, but we are doing something. I just don't know what. It is an emotional betrayal. Worse perhaps than some meaningless one night stand. At least, there is little contact between the times when we find each other amongst friends. We are not spiralling, yet.

Going back to the usual routine is reassuring and distracting from all of these things. There are fewer hours in the day to ponder those questions for which I have no answer.

Letter to the man who is not my lover

I saw you last night. I didn't expect to. In amongst the friends, there you are with your girl. I was caught. I knew this could, would perhaps, happen at some point. I just didn't know how it would make me feel. Leaving my friend would create questions. I stay, pleased to see you and utterly unnerved by your presence.


I have met her before only in passing. I know who she is but we are not friends. She is skinny, pretty and child like, and friendly to the person she doesn't know.

I tried my hardest to behave as if nothing has passed between us. To ignore you would be strange.

As we chatter and mull over quiz questions, there is your gaze, held a little too long, as we talk amongst our friends.

There is a look of knowing behind those eyes. Those bright, pale eyes which I cannot deny. We cannot speak of what has been said, but it is there and present.

I am shocked by how I feel. I am full of jealousy, confusion and a little pity for her, knowing what you have said to me. But you, well, you are under my skin.

I do my best to be normal, whatever that is. But my heart is racing.

I had put you and your words out of my mind. I had resolved that, as flattering as they are, they are ultimately meaningless without action and that I deserve someone who can do as well as say. I write it off as a surreal episode, a dream.

Yesterday evening has undone it.

When you look at me, talk to me, it is as if you see all of me. There is no hiding who I am from you. For a change, I don't mind this. I try not look at you or think of your words but they are there, hanging between as we talk.

Very recently I rejected a man who I once loved. He is married and a father. After fifteen years, we have found a great friendship but a drunken night left him asking for more. I said 'no' with ease. I don't want someone else's man. Could I do this with you?.

This is not something sexual or frivolous, there is a fire in my belly, at my very core, that wants to reach for you and know you will hold my hands.

I know you are not mine, and are unlikely ever to be. I will not chase you, or seek you out. But, if you came to me, I could not turn you away.

End of the Line?

I think I'm going to give up on the Canadian.

I like him. He's good company, intelligent, attractive. But – the 'but' had to come – he's just a bit hopeless.

He seems to be more interested in his sport and blokes' outings than me. He should enjoy those things, but there needs to be a bit of room for me.

I love that he has a life and passions, even if I don't quite understand them. We live an hour apart and are both busy people and somewhere, in the midst of the chaos, effort and time have to be made to find out if this thing's got legs.

I need consistency and support, and I'm not getting either of those things. I have spoken with him about how we can find the time in amongst a busy summer schedule, without nagging, and it doesn't feel like he's trying. We have a wonderful time together, but little holds us together in the gaps.

There are very few people in the world that I've connected with at a deeper level, thought I could love for the long haul. Each time I've f**ked those situations up out of fear or not coping. I'm finally finding my feet and feeling properly on top of my life for the first time in years, despite windows of awfulness. I am open to a relationship that is healthy and balanced. I've really tried with this one to not rush in, or run away and it seems, for once, I'm not the one who's destroying an opportunity.
 
I am thoroughly pissed off because I feel like he is leading me on. He is, at best, being bad mannered. I trusted him, and he's being crap. I hate the thought that it might be over and I have to start all over again.

I haven't made a final decision and maybe I won't need to, it could just all fade away....

Does anyone?

Sometimes I just want to cry and I don't know why.


Is it that I have an old university friend and his very happy, lovely fiancé staying and being excited about weddings. And, I am wondering if it will ever be me?

Is it because the Canadian is off and away for the first of three or four boys weekends away that I'm not part of and I'm wondering if there is space for me in his life, and if he's willing to make some room for me?

Is it because I've left my house guests for a couple of hours to go and see how my poorly mother is? Only then to watch her struggle to eat, struggle with pain, struggle with being sick before I sort her out and she sends me off before she then calls my sister for help and advice? Is my offering not enough?

Is it because the parent who I turned to when the chips were down doesn't know my name any more, and probably doesn't know I am his daughter?

Is it because amongst all of these things, I just want someone to come home to, someone to put my needs alongside theirs, someone to wrap me in their arms and tell me it will be ok? Can the Canadian do this?

Is it because amongst people I have known of old that I am reminded that they have found someone to hold their hand along the way and I am still trying?

Is it because amongst all these people in my life, I am still lonely? Perhaps.

Is it because I am just struggling along doing what I can, and wishing it wasn't so? Probably.

I miss my Dad and I miss my Grandpa. I miss the friends and lovers left behind through circumstance, unnecessary arguments and life changing tack. Does anyone miss me?

A little composure

Ok, time to pull myself together and and acknowledge that a panic is simply that and it will pass. It is passing, helped very much by the wise and kind words of others who have taken the time to share with me. Thank you. You know who you are!


I am nervous about seeing him. But, I am seeing him tomorrow.

The last night we spent together pressed too many of my buttons It was not his fault but simply what goes on my head. Old wounds twinging and sending me into a tail spin.

When I saw him last weekend, we had both had other commitments and met at his house afterwards, taking advantage of me being in the same city for the evening. It was lovely, but come Sunday morning it felt like some kind of 'booty call' (for want of a better phrase!!). We hadn't spent the evening together, just the night. Albeit he'd made efforts to plan a lovely breakfast and we enjoyed a lazy morning.

It put me right back to that place of feeling that 'something is better than nothing', that devalues me, where I allow myself to accept crumbs from the table, where I allow myself to be led on because I don't feel like I don't deserve any better. I know this is a fallacy, but it takes me huge efforts to remind myself that I am not that person any more.

None of it is helped by me recently allowing an ex to take advantage me (there is only so often you can brush someone off, knowing it is dangerous territory, when the their words and actions make you feel wanted and attractive), lead me on, and ultimately destroy our friendship. He knew my weaknesses and disregarded them all. What's worse is that I let him, even apologising for being angry with him when I had every right to be.

David has done nothing wrong. There was absolutely no evidence to suggest that I was only there to entertain him, but that sinking feeling overwhelmed me and I tried to remain composed but succeeded only achieving an odd mood, which he picked up on. I was so pissed off and shocked at my reaction to it all that I cried all the way home in my car. I wasn't upset with him, but at all the situations in my past that had led me to that place.

I apologised by text when I got home for being a bit odd, and told him that there's perhaps some stuff I need to share with him next time. That time has come. The time where I let him see what's on the inside and hope that he finds something he likes. At least I will be honest and allow myself to be vulnerable. This will be a huge achievement no matter the outcome.

Wish me luck....

Being Bridget again....

Ok, I hate this. I do fine with the the first few dates, but it's the bit after I despise. The bit where you don't know each other well enough to have an idea of where things stand, or whether they are a boyfriend or not. The bit when you just want to get over that next hurdle and agree that you are in a relationship. But, it's also the bit where you don't want to rush into the next bit, and be smart, take it slow blah, blah, blah......


I am in panic mode about it all at the moment. David is lovely and I want this to go somewhere, I want to be smart about it. I am also panicking that it's now Wednesday and we haven't been in touch since Sunday. I initiated a brief text message exchange today, just to say 'Hi', but now panicking that even this casual exchange will suggest that I am needy. Another invitation is yet to arrive. None of which is helped by the fact that he is away this week, and lives in a city an hour away so a casual drink or lunch isn't an option.

I am panicking that it's all going to come crumbling down around my ears. There is no evidence that this is the case, but some old wounds left me behaving slightly oddly at the weekend. I am panicking that I have imagined that we are having a good time.

I am panicking that he won't call, won't make a plan, won't want me. All that awful stuff that we do. I know I need to exercise patience. I know I need to carry on doing the things I do regardless and see what happens but I worry that I will betray myself by not being patient.

The dating advice of others just confounds it all. There are rules: rules to be broken, rules not to be broken, timings to follow, games to be played, who invents these things and who should we listen to?

I am panicking because of the core belief that tells me I am unloveable and unworthy. I know it is simply that, a belief rather than reality, but that part of me can be a very strong voice at times.

I must take a deep, deep breath and think positive. How? F**k.

Taking chances

I don't want to turn this into a blog which has Dating as its primary subject, but for the moment I need to stick with the whole Bridget Jones thing. It's what's on my mind, and processing it all here is the best outlet I have. So, apologies and thank you for bearing with me!

The Canadian, - calling him my his real name makes it feel very real – is lovely and being smart is hard! David, there, I said it. He is David and he is nice.

He is nice, and cheeky and gentle and insightful, and I am scared and excited.

Trying to take thing one step at a time is so at odds with my last couple of significant relationships, which is, I guess, why they ultimately failed. They were built on shaky foundations. Houses built on sand.

As much as I am trying be brave and not run from this for fear of failure, I'm also scared. All of which is normal I guess. I need to be measured and honest. I'm managing so far and he's respecting that, responding well.

I'm feeling good about it all after another lovely evening. I'm also feeling weird because it's gone beyond a few casual dates, which means now I, we, need to build those foundations and see what happens. It means I need to do this without losing track of me. I need to remember that I will be ok if it doesn't work out, that I have a life and friends and and a career and hope. But, right now I also need to take a risk and believe that I am loveable.

The Canadian - Are rules made to be broken?

I've been a bit distracted by a variety of things over the past couple of weeks, hence the absence from here. Thought I'd share an update on the Canadian though.


I'm sitting here mulling over a lovely night. I had my first visit to the Canadian's house last night. Meeting four, date number three.

I'm feeling very spoiled indeed. I arrived at his flat, which had obviously seen a tidy up effort in my honour, to candles and cold cava, cocktails and a delightfully relaxed dinner. I was hugely impressed by the effort he'd made and flattered also. Maybe he's as keen as I am on getting to know each other better, either that or he's a very smooth operator! Whatever the motivation, it was successful and very enjoyable.

I stayed over, perhaps too soon. Perhaps I am simply being a little paranoid about all the rules of dating that we're supposed to follow? It felt like the right thing to do, but pangs of what I 'should' or 'shouldn't' do rear their heads. My insecure self showing up, and confusing the me who wants more than sex, or more than a rushed into relationship that is rushed out of equally quickly. I guess I just have to follow my instincts. I don't always trust them though. We are grown ups, not 19 year olds who are nervous and inexperienced. I'm trying to be smart about this, not hurry, maybe it is a physical step too far. Maybe it is just what it is. Maybe I should trust in his efforts to impress.

Breakfast in bed and a very lazy morning with chat serious and silly have taken us along that next step in the road. I know he's looking for something serious, and not fling. I know more about what he wants from life. He knows I'm looking for something solid, and that's ok with him.

Conversation and kisses come easily with him. Honesty also.

He's an ordinary sort of a guy. He's clever, gentle and realistic, and not gushing or rushing. I am grateful for this. I don't do well with too much flattery or early displays of emotion. I like these things to come gently.

I look forward to getting to know him better one step at a time, warts and all. I want to do this slowly and feel my way forward without pressure, protecting my heart along the way.

So, the dating saga continues

On to the third man who's emerged over the past wee while: after one idiot, one nice but ultimately unreliable and slightly elusive guy, there comes a charming Canadian. And I am delighted!


We met at a conference a couple of weeks ago, where I had to host a table. I had no influence over the seating plan I must add, and ended up with him on my left for the evening. He was a great conversationalist and more than once rescued me from technical chatter of cancer scientists when I was beginning to lose track and bring it all back to lay man's terms.

We discovered a mutual friend, a good friend at that who has since been doing his share of match making....

Confident, intelligent, cheeky. He's not the most handsome man I've ever met, but he has that spark about him. Tucked under the beard is a great smile, and a whole lot of insight. Oh, I do like a beard.

Anyway, we had our first proper date last night and it was delightful. His car had been ditched for the evening before we'd even made it to dinner, and we spent the evening laughing and sorting the woes of the world out.

For a change I'm not wondering if he'll call or when. I know he will. When doesn't really matter.

I'm also not daft and counting chickens, but it is very good to know there are still some decent men left on the market which restores my faith in why I bother with this dance we all do.

Sometimes...

....I just wonder when it's going to be ok. When I am going to be ok?

Every time I get close I feel like I am being sucked back into a void where I don't really know who I am, dragged down by the priorities of others, by my morphine filled mother's illness, by the weekly losses endured by the relentless journey of my father's alzheimer's, by fears that paralyse me into inactivity, by one more man who fails to treat me with respect, by another hope dashed.

In theory, I know it's up to me to make me happy, but being a carer sucks so much of my energy, fighting with my demons and work do too. Sometimes there's not so much left over to give me the energy to try any harder.

Perhaps one day I will belive in me, and I will do more than exist.

The Fridge - A Portrait

I've had these magnets for years, and things I know i'll forget when I go shopping are added to the fridge. The veg, milk etc I buy regularly never make an appearance. I still manage forget or overlook the list regularly. I was hugely amused by my fridge this weekend, when I realised it looked the the shopping list of a 1950s housewife! With the exception, perhaps, of the chilli and noodles. I don't know if I've ever had to buy a mop before, they've somehow always just appeared in my life....where from, who can remember?

The top half has some daft 'bodice ripping', 'literary' magnets that were a present (featuring a sabre toothed tiger, pirate ship, and a moist grotto) a gym timetable, gig flyer and taxi numbers stuck on.

Every time I have folk round I inevitably wake up the next morning to find all sorts of messages, filthy tales, and general nonsense. The boys tend to make as many rude words as possible. I suspect our fridges say as much about us as our bookshelves, choice of clothes or any other of our accoutrements! What does yours say about you?

Faces and optical illusions

Kim's recent post Are you scared of your face? has got me reflecting on my own visage, image, whatever. I have been following the comments with interest and there is huge variation in responses; some realistic and accepting, some unsure and self conscious, some curious and so on.

The years are written on my face. I know this. There are lines beginning to make themselves more present, creases of laughter and frowns. Which is more recognised in my face by the rest of the world?

When I look in the mirror I see the scar from a broken nose, the drier skin and beginning to age neck, eyes that are searching for signs of hope or beauty and instead wondering what was there before.

Sometimes, rarely, I catch myself in the mirror and think 'You look ok. Smile.'

Photographs show me 'me', but this is not who I see. I see the little untidy girl who cannot smile properly because of once crooked and damaged teeth. I see a little girl who wanted to be pretty and knows she is not.

I have no idea how others see me, would I want to know? Yes, perhaps I would.

I would like to understand how I appear to others. I would like to see me as I am. I would like an image of me that I see as real and true of both the physical and emotional, and perhaps celebrates. I would like to find the joy and depth in my face.

Can I, will I? Can any of us?

Letting go of the old list

When I was in my teens, choosing subjects at school, I began to imagine what my life would be. How on earth was I to know whether I wanted to be a doctor, a hairdresser or a plumber when I knew very little of the world beyond my little all girls school?


But there we go. We are expected to be able to predict what will make us happy in the future and set ourselves a course through life. It's a bit like sticking a pin in a map.

Somewhere along the way a plan emerged that looked something like this....

Leave school

Go to University

Work for a while, and achieve some things

Get married at 30

Kids at 35

I achieved the first two, but dropped out of an architecture degree at 20 and had to start another course. Not going to uni was not considered to be an option, and my mother enrolled me in my second degree course.

The third is a work in progress, and I have done well so far. My own business, a professional qualification, work that makes a difference, much satisfaction – all in a career I didn't even know existed ten years ago. I started out in the art world, lost my job in a company takeover and changed tack completely but it's worked out well.

And the last two? Who knows if those things will ever happen for me?

The nice thing about reaching the upper age limit on my list is that it can now be discarded. It's never been a rigid thing but has somehow lurked in the back of my mind over the years. Until recently, I had never considered what I was going to do past 35 or if I didn't have kids. I still don't know.

What I do know is that I can just get on with living my life without conforming to any agenda that was expected of me, I've been nagged about it often and it has made me feel like a failure on occasion. My mother and society have the ability to make a girl feel rotten about her status in the world. I know I can ignore it, but if someone asks you often enough about your lack of husband or passes opinion frequently, some of the doubts will sink in.

I will move onwards, upwards with a world of the unknown in front of me.

PS Although I made to art college, albeit on the compromise of a 'sensible career' path, all I ever really wanted do was paint and make things. Perhaps one day I will upholster furniture and give up my laptop.

Bad Dreams

Today I am unravelled a bit.


I am distracted by a situation I know I need to make a decision about. I have no clue what I truly want (or am afraid to admit it to myself), or even if I have to make a whole decision now when I could perhaps just throw my thoughts out there see what comes back.

I am so used to pleasing people that I don't know what I want. I know I need not to do what will please someone else, but look after me – it's just not so easy to do.

My dreams are plagued by strangeness, a manifestation of my addled brain disturbing my sleep. Last night's featured an overnight stay in a grand country house hotel for a wedding. I was with lots of friends, and my very grand bedroom (when they were all stuck in tiny turret rooms) was crawling with spiders which initially looked like they were part of the carpet's design. Horrid. I hate spiders.

Action or inaction, or even half an action? I can't move. I am frozen by it.

Another birthday

Well, where did another year go? It's been an eventful one, or has it? The year before was hell. This past one has at least not presented too many challenges in comparison.


I guess the biggest thing has been taking voluntary redundancy. Ten days from being told my job going was a possibility, to walking out with y head held high and on my terms. Very sad to leave an organisation I loved, not so sad to leave behind a boss of the very worst sort. Two months later, my own consultancy business was up and running with clients, an accountant and everything! Not bad at all.

Changing my way of working has been great. More space in my day, no one to answer to, picking and choosing projects. Relaxed, slower, satisfying. I've not got it completely sussed yet but I'll get there. I like my new 'portfolio career'. Self discipline and procrastination do need some tackling though.

Last night I went out for dinner with eight friends/family, nice cafe bar in the east end with an acoustic music night. Lots of laughing and chat. I'm glad my sister organised it because left to my own devices I would let my birthday pass without a word. I'm embarrassed by the fuss.

I am grateful for my friends and glad we could share this meal together, and glad that they want to make a fuss of me even if I don't want to make a fuss of myself.

I wonder who and what the next year will bring.

PS I am none of these people but I loved seeing my friends laugh and smile – I can't take credit for the storytelling that's amused them so much either but it was all lovely.  

'To Do' List

Today is my 35th birthday. I am tired and am writing to remember things I want to remember and write about;

1. Being 35 and letting go of the old list
2. McCaffrey's lovely 'Honest Scrap' - I will do something with this. It is not forgotten.
3. My birthday
4. Figuring out how to let go, and possibly say goodbye

Gastro Horrors

Hmm......so after melting down in the most inappropriate way at the weekend, I've spent the past two days in bed. Gastroenteritis. Life just gets better and better! Perhaps it's my punishment for being a fool who can't keep on top her emotions.

I woke up in the middle of Sunday night and was sick. It gave me quite a shock as it's been years since that's happened. I had to go through the humiliating process of trying to decide if it's possible to vomit in the bath whilst sitting on the loo and discovering that the bath is just a couple of inches too far away.....At least a couple of days of enforced fasting's one way to shift the excess pounds of the festive season.

The thing that did gave me a proper shock was passing out.

I don't know if this has ever happened to me before. I was in the kitchen fetching even more water when the world began to spin, and suddenly I couldn't see. I managed to grab onto a drawer whilst heading for the floor which slowed my fall a little.

I woke up a while later, lying naked on the towel that had been round me and the cold hard floor. I don't know how long I'd been there. I'm just glad it was still dark because my kitchen window backs onto the communal path leading towards out back green. In daylight, I would have been visible to all. Thank goodness for small mercies.

Fewer worms

I usually write about the challenges, the navel gazing things with unedited honesty and share less of the things I am grateful for. So, a little celebration instead.


Today I sat with my councillor and we went right back to beginning of my time with him. Eight months first time around, and another couple months which began again recently. I went back in December because I felt myself slipping. The warning signs were heeded, and I was too scared of what I knew could happen if I didn't do something.

I want to mark this as I'm feeling really pleased and proud of myself. Hideous, challenging, satisfying, cathartic hard work lifted me from being  depressed (which I didn't realise at the time, and just thought was normal. How could I think it was normal to cry every day?) to now. Today there are a few live and wriggling worms lurking still in that rusty old can, but the lid is well and truly lifted. (The list of worms from the early days that we wrote up today filled a whiteboard....).Now I know I will deal with the remainder one at a time, with a space in my week and commitment. They have names now, and are part of me.

Simply asking for help helped.

Life is not perfect and nor am I, who is? But somewhere along the lines I'm beginning to find out who I am and not what others want me to be. My anger, anxiety, lost-ness have largely dissipated. Don't get me wrong, there are bad days – some horrible, some sad – but they are far fewer.

I am better for it all and I am certain now that what I want me and my life to be are, perhaps for the first time, within my reach.


I believe that I will find better ways of coping and expressing my needs, emotionally as well as intellectually. Intellectually I can do, always have been able to, but emotionally? Phew! Although I still find these things easier to write than say out loud.

I believe that my life should be my own, and that I deserve to go easier on myself.

I believe that one day soon I will let someone love me without assuming my relationships are temporary and dooming them before they ever get off the ground.

I believe that I will learn to forgive and put up with my mother as she is.

I believe I deserve to be happy. I actually believe it, not just agree with other people saying it. And so on.....

Tomorrow my belief my waiver but tonight, and although I know the journey is not at an end, I will simply allow myself to be happy at what I've accomplished.