Within a matter of days my world had completely changed forever, this is the part of the story I am yet to tell, at the moment even speaking of it is just too much for me to cope with without breaking down into a million pieces, but the devastation was incredible and inconceivable.
So after moving out from my house completely, boxing everything up and moving everything but the essentials into storage I began the move from one house to the next with and mostly without my dogs, for close to three months, not knowing if the issue I had created would be sorted and not knowing if my relationship would get back on track and I would be allowed to go home.
Finally the realisation that neither of these was going to happen any time soon, and the relationship not at all after taking such a huge beating from months of separation and destructive communication, hit me like a tone of bricks and I rung my uncle in tears and asked him to come and move me from the serviced apartment I had been occupying for the last two weeks and take me to his house to live on a permanent basis in Glen Waverley, so far from anything I know, anyone I know, but at least I would have my family around me and my dogs with me and not have to move again.
When my father emptied most of my storage unit into my uncles house yesterday evening and I looked around at all the boxes that contain my life I broke down and cried and screamed and wanted the slate floor to open up and take me to the centre of the earths core where there is no possible way I could be hit by anymore hurt.
‘What have I done to my life!!!???’ I screamed, ‘after all these years of working so hard and pushing shit up a hill to find my piece of happiness and it comes down to this????!!!’, I was totally uncontrollable ‘when is it my time to have some happiness??? When????!!! What did I ever do to anyone to have this be the way my life is no??!!’.
My father and my uncle both looked on while I screamed and yelled and neither of them said a word. They both looked at me as if they knew what I was going through and they knew this feeling well, as they have both been through it. My fathers eyes were sad, he realised, as I did in that moment that there is no escaping who you are and what you are born into and in tern where that will lead you.
I come from a long line of hard working, determined people with solid working class roots. My grandmother would always say that it was important to keep your house clean, yourself well groomed and no matter what was going on in your life you just get up every day and you go to work and you don’t let whatever the universe is throwing at you stop you from just getting by.
My family, despite their hard work and determination have never had the opportunity to enjoy anything or live the lives they should have had, I was going to change all of this. Bitter divorces, drug and alcohol abuse and general lack of financial management have resulted in them just getting by, never holidays, no travel, no getting to experience the world and oh how I wanted to change this.
I have not had a holiday in more than 8 years. I have travelled overseas briefly on my honeymoon the once and that’s it. Selling my house and freeing me from the restrictions of this was going to change all of that. I was going to see the world, live a bit, love a lot someone I was excited to start a family with and share every special moment of that with and to really enjoy life and living and not just get by.
But it was this moment last night when I realised that this is not my destiny, this is not where I have come from or what is in my future, you just can’t change you who are. But you can accept it, get up every day, go to work well groomed and change your hopes and dreams to fit your reality, and this in itself is how you find acceptance and piece of mind, and perhaps at one stage then you might think about smiling again.
Wednesday, June 9, 2010
Tuesday, June 8, 2010
Heartbreak Hotel 3
So now, almost 6 months down the tract from that beautiful and happy day in December I find myself here and trying to work out how this happened.
During the Christmas period I took a bit of time off work for the first time in many years and was at the tail end of a hard slog to settle my Grandfathers Estate and was aware that at some point I would need to grieve properly for this loss but hasn’t has the time or the willingness to do this just yet, not properly anyway, grief is a funny thing like that, you can miss someone on a daily, weekly basis etc even every second, which I do and I did, but when someone dies those feelings exist but the true grief comes later when the total and complete realisation that they are actually gone sets in – this is what I hadn’t had time to do.
I spent some time on my own during this little hiatus over the summer period, much of it was at my house when I was there doing bits and pieces of renovations to it and I suddenly realised that this house represented to me so much more than what it should.
I started to reflect on my life and the things that I had done to make myself financially secure and the sacrifices I have made in order to make that happen. I had a mortgage before I left Uni, built a house, like actually we built much of the house ourselves (my ex-husband and I), this took two years, we lived there for 3 years and never slept in it once when it was actually completed. We managed to put the last coat of paint on and do the very last of the building before we moved out and moved to the little house we had bought in Abbotsford, leaving all that hard work behind for some tenants.
The plan was great, we would now renovate the house in Abbotsford and we had an investment property and two great incomes and then one day he walked in and said he was leaving.
We sold the house to the tenants for a great price which meant I could afford to keep my little piece of paradise in Abbotsford, my saving grace, my security and my safe place.
But after many years there over this past Christmas period I started to realise that it was because of this house I was and had done for a long time made the choices I had made.
Travel was something I had no alternative but to sacrifice, a holiday was completely out of the question, time off work means no pay so saving for a holiday means having to save for the repayments on the house for that period of time as well, and not that this would have been impossible but with a fairly active social life and a serious addiction to shoes and collecting nice clothes it was never going to happen.
I was scared shitless when I thought of selling my house. This concept flew in the face of every working class value that was instilled in me since the time I can recall, financial security and home ownership are the most important and critical things one can achieve and the only way I knew I could break the cycle of fear that has prevented the rest of my family from travelling and living their lives the way they wanted to was to throw caution to the wind and just go ahead and do it – to hell with the consequences I decided I wanted to see the world and be free from my house making my decisions for me.
With that I put the house on the market. I only just managed to sign the contact with the real estate agent, my hands were shaking so much and I could hardly breathe. But I did it. The sign went up and people started coming in.
The boyfriend and I had been looking for a house that was big enough for both of us for about 12 months, but it would be fair to say that I lived at his place anyway throughout most of this time and just before my house went on the market he asked me to move into his house even though we had not been able to find something bigger and more appropriate for two big personalities and a couple of crazy dogs, so we made it official and I moved in.
My plan was actually just to look for somewhere to rent after my house was sold, I thought I would stay local and possibly look for a short term lease that when it ended would let me travel a bit without having to pay rent while I was away, but I wanted to live with the boyfriend and given that I was there all the time anyway it made sense. We were always happier when we were together than apart even for one night so it seemed sensible to just suck up the fact that it was going to be hard with the lack of space, my shoes would just have to live with it.
The day of the sale of my house was perfect weather wise, 25th March, 11am and a huge crowd. Great I thought. I stocked the fridge with Moet and waited out the back shaking like a leaf when the Auction was on.
When it was over and I got a better price that I could ever have imagined I slammed down a few too many champers and took the pen in my shaking hand and signed the contract of sale. The house was no longer mine, it was gone, for someone else to breath life into it – but I was moving on and about to start a life with someone I loved with every speck of my sole and we were going to have the life I never thought in my wildest dreams I could have had, or even deserved, I didn’t know why, but he wanted me and this as much as I did. How did I get so lucky……….
During the Christmas period I took a bit of time off work for the first time in many years and was at the tail end of a hard slog to settle my Grandfathers Estate and was aware that at some point I would need to grieve properly for this loss but hasn’t has the time or the willingness to do this just yet, not properly anyway, grief is a funny thing like that, you can miss someone on a daily, weekly basis etc even every second, which I do and I did, but when someone dies those feelings exist but the true grief comes later when the total and complete realisation that they are actually gone sets in – this is what I hadn’t had time to do.
I spent some time on my own during this little hiatus over the summer period, much of it was at my house when I was there doing bits and pieces of renovations to it and I suddenly realised that this house represented to me so much more than what it should.
I started to reflect on my life and the things that I had done to make myself financially secure and the sacrifices I have made in order to make that happen. I had a mortgage before I left Uni, built a house, like actually we built much of the house ourselves (my ex-husband and I), this took two years, we lived there for 3 years and never slept in it once when it was actually completed. We managed to put the last coat of paint on and do the very last of the building before we moved out and moved to the little house we had bought in Abbotsford, leaving all that hard work behind for some tenants.
The plan was great, we would now renovate the house in Abbotsford and we had an investment property and two great incomes and then one day he walked in and said he was leaving.
We sold the house to the tenants for a great price which meant I could afford to keep my little piece of paradise in Abbotsford, my saving grace, my security and my safe place.
But after many years there over this past Christmas period I started to realise that it was because of this house I was and had done for a long time made the choices I had made.
Travel was something I had no alternative but to sacrifice, a holiday was completely out of the question, time off work means no pay so saving for a holiday means having to save for the repayments on the house for that period of time as well, and not that this would have been impossible but with a fairly active social life and a serious addiction to shoes and collecting nice clothes it was never going to happen.
I was scared shitless when I thought of selling my house. This concept flew in the face of every working class value that was instilled in me since the time I can recall, financial security and home ownership are the most important and critical things one can achieve and the only way I knew I could break the cycle of fear that has prevented the rest of my family from travelling and living their lives the way they wanted to was to throw caution to the wind and just go ahead and do it – to hell with the consequences I decided I wanted to see the world and be free from my house making my decisions for me.
With that I put the house on the market. I only just managed to sign the contact with the real estate agent, my hands were shaking so much and I could hardly breathe. But I did it. The sign went up and people started coming in.
The boyfriend and I had been looking for a house that was big enough for both of us for about 12 months, but it would be fair to say that I lived at his place anyway throughout most of this time and just before my house went on the market he asked me to move into his house even though we had not been able to find something bigger and more appropriate for two big personalities and a couple of crazy dogs, so we made it official and I moved in.
My plan was actually just to look for somewhere to rent after my house was sold, I thought I would stay local and possibly look for a short term lease that when it ended would let me travel a bit without having to pay rent while I was away, but I wanted to live with the boyfriend and given that I was there all the time anyway it made sense. We were always happier when we were together than apart even for one night so it seemed sensible to just suck up the fact that it was going to be hard with the lack of space, my shoes would just have to live with it.
The day of the sale of my house was perfect weather wise, 25th March, 11am and a huge crowd. Great I thought. I stocked the fridge with Moet and waited out the back shaking like a leaf when the Auction was on.
When it was over and I got a better price that I could ever have imagined I slammed down a few too many champers and took the pen in my shaking hand and signed the contract of sale. The house was no longer mine, it was gone, for someone else to breath life into it – but I was moving on and about to start a life with someone I loved with every speck of my sole and we were going to have the life I never thought in my wildest dreams I could have had, or even deserved, I didn’t know why, but he wanted me and this as much as I did. How did I get so lucky……….
Wednesday, June 2, 2010
Heartbreak Hotel 2 - Christmas
So lets go back a bit to Christmas. The best Christmas I have ever had since the days when my Nan and Ted were alive and the whole family and some of the regular “orphans” would join us and we would pack into Nan’s little house, or outside, weather permitting of course and little Nan would be in the kitchen cooking up an absolute storm. The meal was always followed by Ted putting on the Santa hat and we would all sit around while he would take the presents out from under the tree and hand them, often throwing them in jest at the person for whom they were addressed.
These were happy days, booze filled days and nights would follow with dancing and singing and the odd argument but my Nan had a way of being the glue that made that damaged family stick together for many years and when her dementia set in we tried to continue the tradition until the bitter end.
I had taken over most of the responsibility by this stage for organising and getting everyone together and doing the cooking and buying all the gifts. I was determined to make the last few Christmas’ she was alive memorable, even if she didn’t remember five minutes ago.
This was the first Christmas without either of them and I was emotional and upset in the lead up to the event.
The boyfriend decided that we would hold it at “our house” although I had not officially moved in and still had my own house I was there 6 nights out of 7 if not more anyway and we both became quite excited at the prospect of having the family over.
I must at this point specify that “the family” consisted of my uncle and my Dad, and of course my two dogs and my Dad’s dog Billy. The boyfriend doesn’t have any family in Melbourne. His daughter lives in QLD, father and stepmother and stepbrother who he has limited contact with are in Tassie and his mother and the rest of his family in England.
So it would be fair to say that there was not really going to be a huge swag of people over, just the four of us and three dogs. But I cooked up a storm anyway. I made everything just the way my Nan would have done it, it all tasted the same.
The day turned out better than either of us could have ever expected. After initial fears that it would rain, the weather was perfect, hot but perfect. The boyfriend acted as DJ, a job he takes a great deal of pride in and had been downloading all the crazy old Christmas tunes in the days before the event.
The food was consumed, gifts exchanged, although this is never an extravagant part of the day, but to my shock and surprise my sister left her mothers house not long after we had eaten and joined us for the party, my Dad and I were thrilled, we never get to see her on Christmas so the smile could not be wiped off his face, or mine.
Then my uncles son and daughter, my cousins and two of their friends joined and it felt like Christmas with family as it was before.
Later on we were joined by the poofs from next door, our great friends who often spend time with my family and the night was off and rocking! We danced and boozed and smoked joints and had more fun that what I ever thought would have been possible.
For that one night it no longer mattered to me that my family is dysfunctional and not “normal” in the traditional sense of the word “family”.
I don’t have a family home since my grandparents died. I don’t have somewhere to go where I feel safe and where the family gathers anymore, but the boyfriend declared that we hold Christmas at our house every year and that made me feel like we were building on something.
All these people around us that may or may not be related, but who all care for each other are the building blocks of a family, the thing I have always longed for and I finally felt like I had it, and I felt like he felt the same way.
These were happy days, booze filled days and nights would follow with dancing and singing and the odd argument but my Nan had a way of being the glue that made that damaged family stick together for many years and when her dementia set in we tried to continue the tradition until the bitter end.
I had taken over most of the responsibility by this stage for organising and getting everyone together and doing the cooking and buying all the gifts. I was determined to make the last few Christmas’ she was alive memorable, even if she didn’t remember five minutes ago.
This was the first Christmas without either of them and I was emotional and upset in the lead up to the event.
The boyfriend decided that we would hold it at “our house” although I had not officially moved in and still had my own house I was there 6 nights out of 7 if not more anyway and we both became quite excited at the prospect of having the family over.
I must at this point specify that “the family” consisted of my uncle and my Dad, and of course my two dogs and my Dad’s dog Billy. The boyfriend doesn’t have any family in Melbourne. His daughter lives in QLD, father and stepmother and stepbrother who he has limited contact with are in Tassie and his mother and the rest of his family in England.
So it would be fair to say that there was not really going to be a huge swag of people over, just the four of us and three dogs. But I cooked up a storm anyway. I made everything just the way my Nan would have done it, it all tasted the same.
The day turned out better than either of us could have ever expected. After initial fears that it would rain, the weather was perfect, hot but perfect. The boyfriend acted as DJ, a job he takes a great deal of pride in and had been downloading all the crazy old Christmas tunes in the days before the event.
The food was consumed, gifts exchanged, although this is never an extravagant part of the day, but to my shock and surprise my sister left her mothers house not long after we had eaten and joined us for the party, my Dad and I were thrilled, we never get to see her on Christmas so the smile could not be wiped off his face, or mine.
Then my uncles son and daughter, my cousins and two of their friends joined and it felt like Christmas with family as it was before.
Later on we were joined by the poofs from next door, our great friends who often spend time with my family and the night was off and rocking! We danced and boozed and smoked joints and had more fun that what I ever thought would have been possible.
For that one night it no longer mattered to me that my family is dysfunctional and not “normal” in the traditional sense of the word “family”.
I don’t have a family home since my grandparents died. I don’t have somewhere to go where I feel safe and where the family gathers anymore, but the boyfriend declared that we hold Christmas at our house every year and that made me feel like we were building on something.
All these people around us that may or may not be related, but who all care for each other are the building blocks of a family, the thing I have always longed for and I finally felt like I had it, and I felt like he felt the same way.
Heartbreak Hotel
So have you ever had that feeling that you are so happy and that there is nothing that can possibly make what you have bad and that despite the years and years of turmoil and personal pain and hardship that you have finally found happiness, not just with someone else but within yourself? But all the time you are scared to enjoy it too much or be seen to be too happy because you keep pinching yourself thinking that at any time when you least expect it the universe is going to smack you on the back of the head and say ‘wake up princess, this sort of happiness doesn’t happen to the likes of you!’…….whether you can relate to that feeling or not, this is what my fate has delivered over recent months. I correct that, a stupid mistake caught up with me and I can not necessarily put that down to fate, I guess the timing and the consequences could perhaps be put down to fate – but the rest of it was simply my own fault.
So after a long period of being alone and really not dating much and trying to get over what was not a good marriage, but nonetheless painful when it ended, I, as indicated in past blogs, hooked up with a long term friend. The relationship developed and I believe I fell in love for the first time, yep, really, in the whole 32 years of my life I don’t think I have actually ever been in love before.
When I looked at him I could see myself being with him until the end of time. I saw my entire future with him, and despite knowing that I could and can live without him, I simply didn’t want to. My choice was to let myself have these feelings and trust that I was not making a mistake, all the time praying that this decision would not backfire.
Well it did. Once again I find myself alone and that doesn’t bother me so much, the loss of someone who was not only my friend but the person I really believed I would be able to trust and cherish for eternity is now gone and I have to dig deep to find the strength to accept the loss and find happiness again.
So this is how my story starts. It will have to be told slowly because its so painful, but my goal will be to write a piece of it each day and perhaps in doing so can try and work out what happens to the rest of my life from here.
So after a long period of being alone and really not dating much and trying to get over what was not a good marriage, but nonetheless painful when it ended, I, as indicated in past blogs, hooked up with a long term friend. The relationship developed and I believe I fell in love for the first time, yep, really, in the whole 32 years of my life I don’t think I have actually ever been in love before.
When I looked at him I could see myself being with him until the end of time. I saw my entire future with him, and despite knowing that I could and can live without him, I simply didn’t want to. My choice was to let myself have these feelings and trust that I was not making a mistake, all the time praying that this decision would not backfire.
Well it did. Once again I find myself alone and that doesn’t bother me so much, the loss of someone who was not only my friend but the person I really believed I would be able to trust and cherish for eternity is now gone and I have to dig deep to find the strength to accept the loss and find happiness again.
So this is how my story starts. It will have to be told slowly because its so painful, but my goal will be to write a piece of it each day and perhaps in doing so can try and work out what happens to the rest of my life from here.
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