It’s been one of those days. Days when you question yourself in your capability as a parent, when you doubt your own feelings and when fear threatens to take over everything you think or do.
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Where to begin? The events of the last couple of weeks and the emotions in their aftermath have been somewhat seismic, and it is only now that I feel I am starting to process it all.
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This is really not the blog post I wanted to write. The one I wanted to write dealt with how well this new path is working out for the husfriend and me. It was about how I felt that after putting in the work for more than a year, that the universe finally had my back. And it had new boobs in it (yes, I did it, and yes, they look amazing).
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Did you miss me? I have taken myself away on a far away island, digital detox included. And now I am sitting on a plane in the middle of the night, my stomach in knots and my head spinning with the lack of sleep and the amount and speed of thoughts rushing through my mind.
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I understand why a lot of people are hesitant when it comes to therapy, especially couple’s therapy. I had friends giving it a go, only for the husband to unload ‘all the things I hate about you’ in the space of an hour to the understanding nods and a-ha’s of said therapist. The only thing my friend took away from the session was a vow to never go back.
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This isn’t the first time that I am baking cupcakes in the middle of the night, wrap presents, blow up balloons and dash to the store to get a missing ingredient, leaving my sleeping children home alone. It isn’t the first time I am preparing my child’s birthday by myself, and yet here I am, sobbing into the cake batter and eating half of it raw.
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I haven’t slept in weeks, and when I forced myself out of bed after another restless night, I could feel the panic creeping up in me. In the midst of depression, about two years ago, I had regular anxiety attacks, and they only subsided when I finally allowed myself to address my feelings and thoughts, how uncomfortable they might have been.
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I am a child of the 70s. And despite being born in the era of sexual liberation and free love, my early adventures into sexuality circa 1992 were overcast by the ever present threat of HIV. Sure, we had fun. But every sexual encounter was a potential risk. No matter how careful you’d been, the fear was always there. Everyone knew someone who knew someone who was dying of AIDS. I can’t remember how many times I took the test, let alone the times I made a potential new partner take it. Serial monogamy offered some comfort to the issue and was the relationship setting du jour.
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At the end of our long summer holiday, we both caught glimpses of the initial spark of our love. It was exhilarating Read more
