I hate this space

I hate this space I’m in.

I hate this sadness, this powerlessness. I keep making the choice to be happy, ok, move forward, yet end up feeling stuck.

Today, after a phone call from a loved friend, I think I know why.

My focus.

I know my trigger for depression.

Jock. The ex. The toyboy ex geeky lover.

He knows how to push my buttons and I play the game.

I hook in without realising it.

Then when I realise it, I get angry with myself. This is a destructive pattern of behaviour for me.

Observers point out he knows how to push my buttons. I am told this time and time again.

I am told how strong, how mother feckin’ brilliant I am, yet I still look at myself through his eyes. His eyes told me time and time again, that I am broken, with issues that just never seemed to resolve themselves. I have never felt so unloved and unvalued as I do when looking through his eyes.

It’s not like I *want* to be here. I have struggled and fought not to be. But it has seemed hopeless.

I isolated. It’s what I do best. I have put on the act. I am very good at playing the part.

This has to stop.

After yet another ex filled shitty day, my son looked at me and said “Mother, I think when Father left, he turned you into an angry person.”

I replied with “No, he didn’t, I allowed it. And I am sorry. Yes, I am angry, and I am hurt, but I promise, I will find a way out.”

And I will.

I have to.

If I don’t, I will destroy who I am and everything I hold dear.

Winners never quit and

Quitters never win.

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3 Comments »

  1. Jayne said

    (((hugs)))
    Yes,m you are a strong, sensible, clever, loving and lovable person.
    Start listening to us for a change 🙂
    We reckon you’re tops and you rock, girlie! xxx

  2. Nikki aka Widdle Shamrock said

    Thanks darl. You are rather spesh yourself.

  3. river said

    What Jayne said.
    Also don’t allow him to contact you. Let him contact the kids. Contact with you should be through snail mail only.
    You be the one to pull the strings. You’re the one holding the family together. He’s the sorry-arse who left.

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