Don’t. Touch. Me.

My ribcage is breaking and collapsing and closing in on itself.

OK, so it probably isn’t, but it feels like it is. I have a pain in the middle of my chest that feels exactly like all of the bones are trying to crawl their way further inside me, taking the skin with them. I’m way too close to the surface. I need to go inside, draw all of my extremities in, make myself as small and dense as possible.

Small, so no-one sees me. Dense, so I am unbreakable.

Since I appear to be evolving, I think I might grow some spikes too. Why not? Spikes like those cactuses (I know, cacti, but it’s so wanky) that look like they’ve rolled around in cotton wool. Spikes that sting if you ever-so-gently stroke them, and hurt like a bitch if you actually grab them.

I can feel my blood moving in my veins, at least in my upper arms. It feels like it’s boiling, bubbling, fizzing. It’s really fucking angry blood, and it’s making me hold myself rigidly: Don’t touch me. Don’t you dare fucking touch me.

I sleep like a curled-up woodlouse – tightly wrapped, rigid.

I suspect all of this is another outward manifestation of an inner ‘grace’. I suspect it is my body’s way of holding in all of the anger, pain, disappointment, sadness, anxiety, injustice and grief of the last year . I suspect very bad things will happen if I let it all out.

So I’m going inside for a bit.





I think I preferred the nothing

So when you send an email to a man baring your soul, explaining how his thoughtless behaviour makes you feel and telling him you won’t be contacting him again and don’t want to hear from him either unless he’s ready to be a grown-up and quit fucking around, what kind of response would you expect?

There was the week of nothing. And then there was an email asking for more help with his business, not acknowledging the above at all.

It caught my by surprise, I have to say. He emailed me as if nothing had happened; I replied as if nothing had happened, giving the advice he asked for.

And then my brain caught up. How dare he just ignore my email and ask for more STUFF from me?! Did he even READ my break-up message?! So I sent him a text message. See below for the full exchange:

Wednesday, 11.00pm
Hi… A question that has only just occurred to me – did you ever actually read my ‘Please read me – thank you x’ email?

Thursday, 10.30am
I did read your email. I did what I always do bury my head in the sand berate myself for upsetting and hurting somebody, feel more miserable than I did and then scoot back under the stone whence I came. Sorry its taken a while to get back to you but I have a minging cold and can barely type I am that ill x

Thursday, 6pm
And apologies for the delay in this response – have been in London pitching. Sorry you’re feeling so ill. I’ve been rottenly poorly the last week or so – voice lost for one day, a blessing for all concerned other than me – so I feel your pain and hope you feel better soon. As for the rest… I don’t know. I don’t know what to say to you any more. There may well be nothing. It’s all been said – or written. x

Friday, 9.30am
Hello. Sorry I missed your text I had the phone on silent so I could sleep my to recovery. How come the world and his wife call when you want silence !!! Have a good day x

So there. That clears it all up, doesn’t it? A nice tidy end for all concerned. ‘Have a good day x’?! Seriously?!

I don’t know what to say. I thought I’d come and try and blog it out, but I genuinely don’t know what to say. The man has rendered me speechless.