Living for Love

To say I've got a LOT of issues around LOVE is probably the understatement of the decade! Knowing what I know now about my own true self, which, by the way, is a continuous car crash of discovery, I can only make comment based on what I know right now at this point in my journey.

Today, it felt like a good time to share something that's dominated my mind for too long, about a five-year-on-off-relationship I was in that finally ended last July (2024). I know my close friends still worry that it's not really the end given we've had previous breaks which lasted up to ten months - but I feel confident enough in my own mind now to be able to write something about it, as a way of dealing with the closure to that part of my life. A chapter now complete at last.

As with all break-ups, it's not been an easy time, especially as I have acknowledged 'abandonment issues' and beginning to understand how Rejection Sensitivity Dysphoria (RSD) in ADHD might have affected things at the time. This particular saga started in July 2019; my son's dad and I had been split up over a year and we had managed to navigate a mostly amicable parting. However, he met a new lady in the May and he no longer spent his free time with me and my son and I had to come to terms with the 'hard' break up that followed and then having to 'move on' also and consider what that meant to me. It was over 18 years since I was last looking for love when I met him back in 2001, and times had significantly changed. The internet, social media and dating apps were the a new-way forward to meet someone new as opposed to meeting someone on an alcohol fuelled night out!

Too much maybe?

The app of choice was POF - for those not in the know (you lucky folk); Plenty of Fish.... I think probably one of the most popular ones as it was free. In hindsight, the phrase you get what you pay for comes to mind; anyways... I did a what's app group and asked some of my closest friends to help me with a good description, we came up with something about being bubbly, genuine, loving music and live gigs, wanting to do Route 66 and other stuff that seemed like a good reflection of me and what I was looking for and added a few carefully chosen recent head-shot photos and set to finding Mr Right Now! My god, that's an experience in itself, trying to get someone to converse with you in an appropriate manner without them wanting to show their cock. Guys - what the actual fuck - top tip here - keep it zipped up and savour the surprise if you get that far - I think I can say quite safely here that most of us women don't care if you've got a large dong or not? But what do I know eh? I prefer to chat first - get to know you, see if we've got actual interests in common not get out the ruler to see if it will fit. FFS.

Overall, it felt a bit like a marketing venture and I've never been that good at selling myself in any capacity - my self esteem has always been low and with carrying extra body weight, I wasn't even sure that I would be found attractive by anyone. And that was my first mistake.... not that I wasn't found attractive (who knew BBW was a thing?), but the fact that I held myself in such low regard that I was basically a sitting duck for this next person to come into my life. I was also surprised to find that younger men seemed to like older and bigger woman and did try one date, only to find that he was already in a full term relationship, probably with kids and that I was some kind of fetish for him. Erm no thanks....

Eventually ended up in some kind of intelligent conversation with a seemingly nice guy I shall now call Mr X. He was only a year older than me, seemed to be genuine and shared many interests with me, including music and going to live gigs. His profile picture was a bit stern, but he sent me other pix of him smiling which I liked. He said he was retired and divorced with 3 grown up kids and we took our time in getting to 'know' each other. Discussing at length, sometimes through the night, our likes, pet hates, sharing his poetry and art, sharing my work, his work, him being veggie, loving animals and having pets, exes good and bad, etc. I was completely open about my mental health issues and soon he began to share some of his troubles. It felt like we were a good match all in all.

After about two weeks of chatting by text and on the phone, we agreed to meet up for a first date which we did in a local-to-me cafe. I was as nervous as hell but being on my own turf helped and there was definitely some chemistry. I liked his eyes more in real life, which his photos didn't do justice to, and he was a complete gentleman, walking me to my car and a gentle light kiss goodbye. Looking back I now recognise there were little red flags even at this first date, as he admitted that he didn't really go to gigs or festivals anymore because he'd developed social anxiety, which was contrary to what he said in his profile, but noone is perfect are they and my first impressions were good and I liked the idea of seeing him again.

veggie lunch - I could get used to that!

It wasn't long before that happened and before I knew it I had shared my bed with him and without going into the sordid details, that was probably the second biggest mistake I made. "WHAM"  that was it for me, there was no turning back after we'd been to bed together, it seemed to go 100 mph and I felt like we'd REALLY connected in ways I'd not experienced before. I soon learned he had a particular 'thing' for larger ladies, and he made me feel like the most beautiful woman in the world and for as long as I can remember, I didn't hide my body, because he couldn't get enough of it. Of course, I was hooked and who wouldn't be, it was extremely addictive to lie next to someone, spent and satisfied and to feel completely relaxed and accepted. Isn't that what we all want at the end of the day?

Within a very short space of time I felt totally smitten and declaring my undying love for this man I hadn't even known just a month ago. It seemed too good to be true and it seemed like we had so much in common, and totally on the same wavelength, or so I thought; we shared so many foibles that I soon began to call him my Twin Flame believing this was some spiritual intervention and revelled in our trauma bonding,

Previous to meeting him, I had signed up to be a steward at an upcoming festival called Beautiful Days in Devon, and this was within the first two weeks of us officially dating. We'd been quite full on during this period, so I didn't really think anything that he wanted to spend as much time with me as possible before I went. On the day before my departure, as I was trying to remember what to pack and doing last minute shopping, and he accompanied me to the shops. When we got back to my place and it was time for him to leave, his mood changed significantly and he started hitting himself in the face. I was utterly shocked and it reminded me of a relationship I'd had many years ago in my teens. I really should have finished it with him right then and there, but of course I didn't. I tried to placate him and felt as if it was something I had done wrong, and became desperate to not part ways on bad terms. It was only for a few days and yet the thought of me going to this event without him was enough to send him into a spiralling fit of paranoia, which I couldn't understand at that time.

He told me about all of the previous times that he had been cheated on, by his ex-wife of 22 years and by his previous lover of 5 years. Of course, I bent over backwards promising that I only had eyes for him and that I would be back in his arms within a few days but the more I tried to assure him, the worse he spiralled and by the time it came for me to be leaving we were both in a frazzled emotional state. I wanted to cancel the trip, and I'd also offered to pay for him to come with me, but he was adamant that I should go without him. After I left he wouldn't answer his phone declaring that it was better for us to part ways, which only made me more desperate to cling on to him.

By the time I arrived at the festival site, it was much later than the recommended check in time and I just sat in the car crying my eyes out wanting to go straight back home. I still couldn't get hold of him, so I resigned myself to checking in to the stewards hut and doing the required initiation training with some other strangers, before returning to my car, still packed up to the brim with all my camping stuff. I was mentally and physically exhausted and couldn't face unloading and setting up camp in the dark alone, so I stayed in the car, crying and panicking wondering why the fuck I was putting myself through all this when I just wanted to be back home in his arms.

I was in no state to drive so I napped on and off throughout the night in the car, trying to connect with him, until the dawn broke and I just didn't know what to do with myself. I was feeling completely overwhelmed and quite unable to move so I decided to put a post on Facebook to share my fragile status. To my surprise and probable embarrassment, I was contacted by one lovely lady Julie who I used to work with from Asda who talked to me for about an hour, just allowing me to cry and explain a bit of what was going on. Meanwhile another contact who knew someone trading at the festival got in touch and sent another lovely lady called Erica up to the car park to help me. The next thing I know we'd decided to unpack the car and set up camp very ably directed by this magnificent angel to my rescue and before I knew it there I was in the middle of a field of fellow stewards and starting to find my second wind.

I managed to have a little sleep in the tent and feeling refreshed I decided to wander up to one of the meeting points where I soon met with some other new stewards who ended up being my salvation and source of great fun and distraction over the next few days. I was able to enjoy most of the festival and the new company I'd made even though Mr X was very much in my mind. I also struggled a lot with my mobility during this time, even though I was still walking longer distances then, I was in excruciating agony from my arthritic knees, but despite this and the shaky beginning, I managed to have a really positive experience overall and a phone full of fun memories.

As I drove home from the festival five days after I first arrived, I couldn't help wondering if I would ever see Mr X again, I hoped so, even though he'd pretty much tried to mess up my festival experience, I knew I still yearned to see him again and it wasn't long until we were back in touch and after a fraught making up period, arranging to see each other again and back in his arms where I believed I belonged. I answered his incessant questions about being at the festival and who I was with and it wasn't long before he was 'suspicious' about me being with one of the men in the group I was pictured with. Of course I showed him every picture in my openess and eager-to-please innocence thinking this would prove my loyalty to him, but little did I know this would serve as bait for him to use against me for months and years to come.

Over the next 4-5 years we went through these cycles of making up and declarations that we couldn't live without each other, promises it would be better, etc, it was a complicated and turbulent rollercoaster which included way too many break ups which, he often went off with other women in between and came back to me which I took as a sign of his devotion to me. Each time I would make excuses up to gloss over sooooo many bad behaviours not only to my friends but ultimately myself. Was I so fucking desperate or just simply stupid?

To be fair to myself, I had other things going on including a new psychiatric diagnosis of ADHD with cyclothymia, then caught my precious son smoking weed, then covid and all the shit that went with that too - not to mention my eldest brother dying the second month in to the first lockdown. Oh, and I accidentally got myself involved in a huge suicide prevention campaign in the middle of all this and then found I could no longer walk once we were able to go out again! Actually writing about his has been more difficult than I thought it would be, I'm now realising how much I've brushed under the carpet that enabled me to deal with him and all the other shit I was juggling. I suppose in a way this is 'acceptance therapy' as I find myself writing things and then realising what a wet blanket I've been!

I slowly began to recognise that no matter how many attempts we tried to make it work in some fucked up way, we were always going to end up with the inevitable break up. After I came back from my trip to the US in September 2023, I felt ready to make some big changes in my life and started to understand that it didn't matter how many times we got back together it was never going to last.

Perhaps that book that my cousin Mags sent me helped a bit! I began to accept that I could never move forward to be the woman I think I should be while he was in my life. His need to consume and control me has been holding me back from making vital changes in my life for my own wellbeing both physically and mentally. I could not simply go to a gym with a friend without a million interrogative questions, hell, if I didn't answer the phone straight away it would lead to him believing I was somehow doing something with someone else. It was coersive and abusive, but I told myself it was a compulsion for him which he couldn't control and always forgave and protected him. I genuinely believed that he hated himself for being like this, but due to his complex behaviours, particularly the paranoia, it made it impossible for him to trust anyone enough to seek the help he desperately needed.

Ultimately, my need to recover outweighed my need to fix him and God knows I tried! They say the definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results. The relationship was pretty hopeless and I was preparing my mind for the ending would come soon enough like always. I knew it was unsustainable and noticed more about his behaviour and questioned it more often. I also challenged some of my own previous thoughts where I had initially trusted everything he told me about himself such as loving music, live gigs and festivals. I think there was a time in his life where he might have done, and I still believe he wanted to be that person but his mind has been so ravaged by his mental illnesses that it prevented him from moving forward in a similar way to how mine was stopping me. In a way, we were stopping each other from moving forward. I finally found the strength to say no more last July (2024) and broke off all contact. I knew we could never be friends on equal terms and there might always be that pull if we were in touch but that was it, we were COMPLETE.

I am stronger now than I have ever been, finding more care for myself and accepting and appreciating my own value. I do still think about him, but I rarely miss him now and I'm finally happy that he is no longer in my life, and not compromising my own needs to facilitate his. I did miss his company over the weekends where we spent together going shopping, cooking and eating and watching telly, but the madness of our sleeping and travel arrangements and accomodating to his exhausting foibles soon brought me back around! I hold no grudges and do not regret that period of my life as it's brought many lessons for me to grow and at last I am looking forward to whatever my future has to hold. I have lots of ideas and plans and no-doubt plenty of new hurdles, but I am free to navigate them on my own without explaining or answering to anyone else other than Pascal - and that's just how I like it now. Unapologetic and free at last.