Holding my breathPosted: October 18, 2011
Not in hope. I’m not in a very hopeful place at the moment. My twat of a bastard ex-husband destroyed my self-confidence and faith in men. The twat of a bastard Pirate has made sure neither will come back for a long, long time. I appear to have all the judgement of a Labrador puppy, running round in circles blindly trusting any and everyone.
No. I’m just holding my breath. It helps. Whenever a wave of badness comes, I breathe in and hold it. I suspect I should breathe through it, oxygenate my cells, reduce the panic. But no. I’m holding my breath.
The worst thing is the rejection. I wasn’t enough for my husband. I am not enough – or possibly too much – for The Pirate. How do you find the person that you are just right for? I’m like Goldilocks – how many beds will I have to try out before I find the right one for me?
Or maybe the worst thing is that I’ll never know whether he was using me or not. AND THE BASTARD WEBSITE STILL ISN’T FINISHED.
Or perhaps it’s that, even though I tried really hard not to, depersonalising him as The Pirate and keeping myself back, I fell for the fucker anyway.
How do people do this? Put themselves out there, open themselves up to rejection over and over again? How do they not take it personally? How, exactly, do you pick yourself up off the floor and start again?
Apologies for all the swearing.