Again. So much to write. Getting the words out is hard. Moving through the stages of grief. Anger. I’m so fucking furious at the moment. With the lies. The mistruths. Being told one thing whilst the actions taken are the opposite. Wanting to be alone. Apparently. But with a new girlfriend lined up waiting in the wings. Better. Shiner. More exciting. And apparently I’m bitter.
No. I’m seething.
My life is on pause. Nearly 40. Back with my parents. Not knowing when I can move back to London. Desperately trying to build my work back up whilst looking after a 2 year old. Feeling like a complete fucking failure.
No house and garden of my own to be loved up in. To have lazy weekends together. With our dog.
The hurt and betrayal is all encompassing. And I just want to scream into the wind
What about me?!
I tried so hard. I loved 100% every day. And it wasn’t good enough. I wasn’t good enough.
But someone else and their children are.
And it’s devastating. For me. For our little girl. Thank god she’s only 2. Trying to explain this to an older child would be so hard.
And I’m the one on my own. Trying to navigate it all. Wondering if I will ever find someone. Before it’s too late for another baby. To have someone with me at family events. To be excited about family members weddings and anniversaries.
Rather than wondering why the fuck it hasn’t happened to me. I’m so sick of being alone
And so I sit quietly. And smile when it’s appropriate. Whilst my heart breaks into a thousand pieces.
Family time is hard at the moment. I’ve lost my family. And now it belongs to someone else. And I don’t know how to forgive that.
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