One said he loved me

One said he loved me, but played me like a game,

One said he loved me, but loved another just the same,

One said loved me, but later laughed upon my face,

One said he loved me, then disappeared without a trace.

When you say you love me, don’t be surprised if I do fear.

When you say you love me, speak to my heart not just my ear.

When you say you love me, say it loud so the world does know,

For perhaps when you say you love me, I won’t be afraid you’ll go.

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The hopelessness of hope

Are you a positive person or negative? An optimist or a pessimist? Glass half full or half empty?

Up until a few years ago I would have said that I was a positive person. People have told me I am a positive person. I try to see the good in every situation, try to learn something from the bad.

At some point, that changed for me. How easy it is now to spiral down the rumination vortex to a bleak and dark place.

I’m in my bed looking at two pencil portraits that I made of Wildcard and me. They were copies of stills from videos that he took of us when I visited him in February 2020. I am proud of them. But up until now, they have spent most of their life in a cupboard. Why? Because I feared hanging them up would be a bad omen. That I was being too self-assured about our relationship, presumptuous.

This year, so far with some success, I have been planning and preparing. I’ve used Mel Robbins’ free course and bought a great Legend planner. I haven’t met all my goals. But I feel good about what I have achieved. I feel there is some purpose and plan to what I am doing. To forgive myself for not completing everything is a big step for me.

What I can’t do, and I have tried, is plan my future dreams. My skills at shutting off unwanted emotions are top class – they caused a break down a few years ago. Hiding emotions simply saves them, festering, for another day. The more you hide, the more they multiply and grow strong. I know this.

My top class skills are currently throwing a impenetrable forcefield around my dreams. I start to think of them and whoosh down it comes. Blank. Nothing. Gone. I see a glimpse or a hint and then, no more.

Those dreams are fuelled by hope. Hope that my relationship with Wildcard will continue to stand strong against the pandemic and everything else which makes it hard. Hope that legalities and finances will allow a life together. And … bang. It is down again.

I can’t think about it because it is everything I want. And like the pictures, if I dare to hope…if I dare to dream aloud and acknowledge what I really want, then the fear of the hopelessness if it doesn’t happen is too much to even contemplate.

Equally, the Love is Not Tourism Facebook group gives me mixed feelings. Hope when I see couples still together, still planning on reuniting in the future. Hopeless when I see couples who have parted, no longer able to maintain their love in this situation. When I read of their passion and belief that they were soul mates, that the love was a lie or not strong enough…I am filled with fear that I feel too much. And when I see the wedding pictures – we did it! – I feel hope that one day it will be us and hopelessness that it may never.

I can’t ever imagine a life without him. That is how much I feel. I have possibility in my life now, because of him. My future isn’t fixed. I know that I want him in it. I want what I feel to be the truth, the reality. Because if it not… if I am wrong… I will never feel hope of love again. I will lose all faith in myself and love and a dream future.

So I hope that my dream future is hard to imagine not because I am scared but because it is too wonderful to contemplate or imagine. I truly, truly hope.

Time for the truth.

I always believed that time flies when you’re having fun. I am not having fun. Lockdown is not fun, and yet time is flying.

I have one week left until half term and I’m exhausted. I’m really enjoying my new role and I like the new leadership at my school. Work is hard though. On the plus side, it’s keeping me busy and helping time to pass.

I’d had the mildest hope of travelling in February, 1-year after I had last saw him. I think I knew all along it wasn’t going to happen. When we discussed it some months ago – well let’s face it, when I accused him of not wanting me to go – he talked about the vaccines in both our countries and the hope that we would all be vaccinated in the UK by April. Easter is the perfect time: I have two weeks off,off therefore I can spend some time with Wildcard and with my children. There’s also enough time to quarantine and be tested ready to go back to work. So, after that discussion I booked flights for the beginning of the Easter holiday.

So you see, time flying wasn’t a bad thing. And then the new variant came. Lockdown 2 came, well, lockdown 2 for teachers. And I actually felt a bit of relief: some time to get myself together, focus on my job and myself. And, yeah, lockdown means I have more opportunities to talk with Wildcard each day. I was still hopeful. I accepted quickly that February was a no go. But April, April was the time. Flights booked, Vaccines promised and time.

Sure his country shut borders to the UK. There was still time though. Vaccination was going a-pace in the UK, plus we were in lockdown and the cases were starting to fall. There was still time.

On Thursday night, hope died. An email telling me my flights were cancelled. Worse, was when I opened the app to see that all flights to his country have been cancelled for the next 6 months.

I can’t describe the shock, the pain, the fear. I sobbed.

All hope was gone. In that moment, the future was gone. There’s no way he would wait all that time and surely he wouldn’t put his life on hold for another 6 months. Another 6-months of waiting. My heart broke. There’s nothing I can do about it.

Somehow I got through Friday in work. I actually think seeing the children and my colleagues helped a little; even the mask hid my swollen eyes a little.

The moment I saw him, when I got home from work and he called me, I cried again. I told him what had happened and he laughed because he was right, again. He laughed in disbelief that I would cry over it. Which made me cry even more because it felt like he didn’t care. I do him an injustice: he’s just more pragmatic, you’re coming summer” he said. His view is that it is life and there’s nothing we can do so there is no point getting upset.

Maybe he’s right – of course he is. But it doesn’t stop it from hurting. 6-months seems a long time now, a lot can happen and of course, in my mind, it’s all bad.

I know he loves me. He tells me he loves me, he shows me he loves me. If I dare to let myself believe it and experience it without fear then I know he loves me to my very soul.

But you want to know the truth? Finally, do you want to know entirely where all the fear comes from?

He wants a baby.

And you know what else? I want to give him one. I want a baby with him. I want us to have a baby together.

Here’s the thing: I love my children with all my heart and I wouldn’t change having them for anything. But I didn’t have them because I wanted a baby with their dad.

I want to have a baby with Wildcard.

In 2 months time, I turn 41. Time is running out – hell, it probably already has – but I still had hope. In a time where coronavirus didn’t exist I imagined 3 or 4 trips to his country in 2020. I pictured him meeting my children. And provided it all went well, I thought that maybe this year we would be married.

So whilst I recognised it would be difficult, there was a chance.

This, this is the root of my anxiety. The more time passes, the less likely that I can give him a baby. Whilst young, beautiful girls swarm around him, and family members try to set him up, I’m thousands of miles away, ageing.

Sometimes I guilt myself that I should do the right thing and let him go because it’s highly likely I can’t give him what he wants.

Just stop and think about that for a second.

Finally, I meet the man of my dreams. He is everything I want, I love everything about him. He makes me feel more alive than any other man has ever done and I want to share a wonderful life with him. And I want to give him a baby.

But despite that, despite all that love and attraction we both feel …I should let him go.

He is not stupid and his job has something to do with reproduction in animals – he must know, I tell myself, he must know and he still wants me. Maybe he is just hoping as I do.

Truly, I believe if our relationship ends it will because of this, if not directly then indirectly, because of my fear and my jealousy.

So there you have it: the truth.

Time for words

I am assuming that I am right in saying that anyone who comes on to WordPress, as a reader or a writer, must love words.

I love words. I’m a reader and a writer. I love the spoken word, the written word, the drawn word, the sung word. Even the implied word. Words fascinate me.

It is hardly surprising then, that my apparent love language is words of affirmation.

Sure, physical touch is important too. I like to be hugged and kissed and caressed. I like making love as an expression of commitment and affection and the sharing and giving of physical pleasure. But, there is a time and a place for such things whereas words are much more flexible. A quick text. A voicemail. An email. A little note on the fridge. A card or letter. A whisper in the ear or against lips in a kiss.

In some ways then, a long distance relationship is a good fit for me. All you really have is conversation and time. You have to talk more because it is so much harder to do anything else. Physical is out the question in between visits, gift buying is more challenging for so many reasons, as are acts of service. So, yes, talking and time are the key things.

Wildcard’s love language is definitely time. So again, this works well. He gives me lots of time, we talk a lot. Jackpot.

Almost.

The things about love languages, if you believe it – and the more I think about it, the more I do – is you often give the love language you like to receive.

I tell Wildcard every day that I love him. Repeatedly. Whenever I feel like it in fact. And if he doesn’t like that, well it is tough. I didn’t start the relationship saying it. But the more I love him, the more I say it. I tell him when I miss him. I tell him when he looks good. I tell him when I am horny.

Ironically, he is the better communicator. He fills the gaps and the silences. And there are some – mainly because we talk so often and because of covid there isn’t much to talk about sometimes.

But, as we both like his love language of time, it really doesn’t matter. When Wildcard places his phone on the dining table so that I join him and his family virtually, I love it. It doesn’t matter than I have no idea what they are talking about most of the time. I just love being with him. I don’t mind some of the quiet times and the silences because we will find something to talk about eventually, or we will joke with one another.

He isn’t as forthcoming with his words of affirmation though. Oh, he tells me he loves me – every day, at the end of every video call. Occasionally he will tell me he misses me or that he wants me. Sometimes he will tell me I look beautiful. He is, however, more likely to tease and joke with me because that is who he is.

I love who he is – every little thing about him.

But occasionally…sometimes… I just need to hear it a little more. Maybe I am having a bad day. Maybe I am really missing him. Maybe I am just premenstrual. Just sometimes I need to hear it. Because I can’t just go up to him for a hug or a kiss or hold his hand. I know he gives me his time – so much of it – but sometimes I just need a little more.

I can be in a bit of battle with myself sometimes. Not to get upset or disappointed or panicky when I don’t hear it. I have to remind myself that he shows his love in other ways…

Like, playing an extra game – even though he was about to say goodbye – because he knows I am anxious about something.

Like, going late for his dinner because we are talking.

Like, always returning calls and messages, always checking in regularly.

Like, going for a walk in the cold and wet – which he hates- because we talk less when he doesn’t go out walking.

I could go on and on.

Unfortunately, tonight, I lost the battle a little.

He had put a story on Facebook and it contained the lyrics of a song – first in his language then in English.

I didn’t know the song but the lyrics were along the lines of ‘girl, don’t be a fool. You don’t own me. All I want for you is to walk away’

And in that moment that I read them, my heart sank. So, what did I do in that heart sinking moment? I sent him an exclamation mark in response to his story.

I regretted it straight away but I didn’t have much time for that because he called immediately to ask what was wrong.

I had to answer of course. It was hard to explain so I kept it simple: I didn’t like his lyrics. He could see I was nervous. He assured me that they were not directed at me or anyone else and he even asked me what a couple of the words meant. He said he just liked the song. I told him it was fine and to ignore me but he asked me if he should delete it. I said no repeatedly, but as he saw my nerves he did it anyway.

After we said goodnight again, I sat contemplating the last five minutes and what had just happened.

Why? Why should those words effect me in this way? He has sent me songs directly with written lyrics in both languages, just for me. They’ve been romantic and heartfelt.

This story wasn’t directed at me, but it felt like it. Because…It’s like my worst nightmare come true. Him telling me that he doesn’t feel the way I do about him.

And then I think about time and actions – his love language. All those moments and minutes and hours devoted to me.

I also think about the occasions when he ‘slips up’ and utters something…that when I question him, he claims not to have said. Like they way he likes my beautiful eyes, or the thing I do with my lips (he wouldn’t elaborate on that one so I have no idea) or that he likes everything about me. They are fleeting, unexpected and often so guarded that they mean all the more in that instant – as if he couldn’t help himself from saying them. Or when he mentions a plan for the future unexpectedly… A trip he has thought about maybe.

So, with all these words, what am I saying?

Part of getting to know someone is learning how they love. And it can be hard sometimes if they way they love is different to you. You can’t change someone in that instance and neither should you want to: you’ve fallen in love with them.

Words are so very powerful. They’re so telling. And yet they can also hide and decieve and lie from the mouths of someone distrustful.

Time doesn’t lie. It can’t hide anything. And yet, it says so much.

Straight and clear

I’ve often wondered if I have some form of SEN, following my son’s diagnosis. I know I am not alone in doing this. Maybe it’s due to reading through all those symptoms and recognising some in yourself…I don’t know. It can be hereditary so it has to come from somewhere.

I like things to be straight and clear. I like to know what I am doing. I don’t like blurred lines or uncertainty. Or last minute changes that make no sense. The fact that my career in English teaching has evolved my ability to analyse and see multiple possibilities and interpretations probably doesn’t help me here. The desire, no the need to know can often be overwhelming. My sisters, and daughter for that matter, often joke about this trait in me. I don’t find it funny – I just want to know where I am at.

Last night, Wild Card called me in some distress. His mum had taken ill earlier in the week and he had taken her to hospital. I will never forget the look on his face when he called me from the hospital, the distress and pain in his fleeting call. Or his crying when they got home. He had never cried before, he told me. He has not been himself almost week, understandably. Last night, his mum had told his she was still unwell and he was worried sick.

He opened up to me, talked about what had been going on recently, where before he had only hinted. He criticised himself and his actions, blaming himself where there was no blame. His description of himself – wanting things to be straight and clear, openly speaking his mind – was just like me. His self-imposed guilt and grief and love for his mother made me love him even more, if that is possible.

Of course, I wouldn’t wish his mother or him ill. But is it wrong that I was glad he was opening up to me? That he had turned to me when he was at his worst, again and again? That he could show me the most vulnerable side to himself and wanted me to be there for him?

I hate that he is pain. My heart ached as I watched and listened because, what could I do? Not even hug and kiss him. But I was there, at least I was there.

I love every part of him. Every last part. And I willing him to love me too. I know, deep in my soul that we would be good together. I just don’t know if that will ever happen. He wants everything to be straight and clear, but I am not 100% sure what that means in relation to us. It is not a decision to be taken lightly, I know. But I need to see that it is in one of the interpretations.

Implosion

One thing after another. I feel like I have used that phrase a lot over my 30s.

The problem is, when all those things cover every area of your life -at the same time – you can feel like your life is imploding. You have no control. No way out.

That big gaping void then opens out infront of you. Sometimes it drags you in. Maybe you step into it willingly, eager awaiting the bliss of numbness.

The void is taunting me from afar at the moment.

On Friday, I met the new CEO of the academy which is taking over the school. She opened the meeting by commenting on my previous absence and change in roles – the two things I worry about. The meeting wasn’t terrible but it wasn’t good either. I’ve worried about it all weekend, things I should have said. I have a follow up meeting today.

My ADHD (and probably autistic) 13 year old has not coped with the return to school. He never does, to be fair, but with the rules and changes around covid he is even more anxious. That then becomes agitation and aggression and unavoidably led to a melt down and violence last night. It was all a mess. Even more so because my daughter called her Dad and so my ex turned up and it all got worse.

In the middle of all that, I was trying to deal with an issue with Wild Card which is still not resolved. I will happily outline my stupidity for all to see.

I told a white lie. I regret it. I don’t even understand why I did it. But in that moment of stress and overthinking, it seemed like the easiest option. It would mean I wouldn’t need to explain or go into detail. It was simple.

He called me, and I was on the phone to my son’s best friend’s mum (see, confusing already). We were talking about our sons going to the gym and touched on the difficulties at present with school and their SEN. When the call ended, my head filled with fighting children, school issues and gym bookings, I called Wild Card.

I apologised for not answering his call and in a moment of stress induced madness, I told him that I had been on the phone to the gym, booking my son in. I have no idea why I didn’t just tell the truth. Maybe I thought he wouldn’t believe me. I know I didn’t want to explain the whole long tale of my son’s melt down and then the difficulties of trying to book them both in online which led to texts and phonecalls. In that moment, that explanation seemed to summarise everything succinctly.

But, as always, he knew I was lying. And instead of just owning up and telling the truth, I panicked and lied a bit more to hide my initial lie. And so it went on. He ended the call rather quickly so I knew he wasn’t happy.

An hour later, and I called. He started to question me. Unfortunately, I was aware of this, and like a panicking child lied some more to get myself out of it. Pretty much throughout the painful conversation. At one point he was suspicious that I had been talking to someone else. I made him think that, just by lying in the first place.

How do you own up to a tangle web like that? In the end I had to. I tried to explain. But he just told me goodnight.

I’ve messaged this morning and tried, succinctly, to explain I wasn’t thinking straight and that I had just kept it simple. I apologised profusely.

I got a thumbs up and he has read and but not responded to anything else since. I don’t blame him. The initial lie was stupid and bad enough, but my subsequent lying just made it a whole lot worse. That’s why I usually tell the truth. That’s why I am no good a lying. And I don’t know how to get out of this mess. I’ve apologised but there really is no excuse.

All I can donis leave him to calm down and see what happens. I can’t apologise any more or tell him I love him any more than I have. I’ve just got to hope he will forgive my stupidity.

If he doesnt, I guess I’m going head first into that void.

Patience and understanding

My mood is very much like the weather at the moment. Beautiful blue sky meet dark clouds.

I’m terms of the amount of contact yesterday, Wild Card called me as normal (apart from the late call in the morning). Our videochats lasted as long as normal. He however, is still not.

I think to myself: he would not call and stay on the phone unless he wanted to see me and be with me. He has no need to prolong this relationship if unhappy. There is no shortage of women interested in him. I try to stay positive and jovial even. Whatever his problem is, I don’t want to add to it anymore. He said I’ve done nothing wrong and it isn’t me, so I have to believe him.

Last night’s last call was a little more typical. He actually cracked some jokes and made me laugh for a while. I actually felt quite emotional… Like he was coming back to me.

But the affection is still missing from his calls. I don’t know if he’s just not feeling it, or he’s trying to prove a point. (And irrational brain wonders if he has met someone else or he’s trying to pull away but we are ignoring irrational brain at the moment.)

In the end, who knows? Only him. There’s nothing I can do but trust he will tell me if I have annoyed him, which he usually does, and try to be supportive and positive.

Last night I tried to research Ramadan and its effects a little more and there is evidence that it affects mood and behaviour. He’s definitely not his cheery self but as he is still making contact, I have to believe that is what it is.

Today he has called as normal – on the way to work and on the way home and as he shopped. Parts of our conversation almost felt like normal. I also spoke to his mother again – he would not have me in the car with her, or speaking to her, if he was pulling away from our relationship.

So, patience, understanding and logical thinking is the order of the day.

Teach – 13th April, 2020 (daily prompt)

Teach me how to love.

Whisper heartfelt words in to my ear,

Caress my skin with a lover’s touch.

Teach me how to love.

Show me your love

In ways I’ve never seen.

Fulfil my soul

In ways I’ve never felt.

Teach me how to love.

Share the secret

Of how you’ve made me feel,

How you’ve awoken all my senses

And found something that never was before –

Teach me love.

Teach me love

Because no amount of practice

Has prepared me for you.

The sharing, the look, the love.

The share… A mixture of feelings. Intrepidation as I walk through the garden because I try to see it with fresh eyes, their eyes. I want them to love it which is bizarre in itself as they may never get to see it in person. A sobering thought.

After, I hastily show them as it was: pictures of long ago, of a time when my father would be seen daily with his hoe or his wheelbarrow. His mother smiles and compliments and I am happy.

What are they thinking? Why does it matter so much? Why did he want me to show them?

The call ends, for now.

The look… Later, we are laughing again. He pauses in his mimicry and mischievousness to look at me, eyes crinkled in a smile. I know that look, love that look, as I know it mirrors mine. He disappears for a moment and then when he returns I watch him. I’m always watching him.

He’s preparing some food and whilst he does, a look of such intensity passes his face. In the hours and hours of my study of his face this look is new. At first it excites: it shows off his deep dark eyes well, his full lips pursed invitingly. But, within moments, my attraction is forgotten. I sense that this face is not as it should be.

I ask if he is OK, and he says yes but I know better.

We walk to his room and he lies down, his head resting on his hand, on his pillow. There is sadness on his face.

And so the dance begins… The to and fro, the questions and answers, the hiding and seeking. Eventually he tells me.

As he was talking with me, he had remembered something he had watched on the news earlier that day. It had come to him and replayed in his mind and had made him sad. He asked if I wanted to see and I agreed because I wanted to understand this transformation in him.

I watch. The boy, small and slight, frightened and alone, is led out of the house. The picture is fuzzy but you can see the little mask on his face. The paramedics are gentle, caring, as he is lifted into the ambulance. Another follows with his bags. Despite this care, there is the knowledge that this little boy is now alone, at 4 years, carrying a virus that he may not survive.

My heart aches for the boy. As a mother…as a human being, you cannot help be touched by that video and all its implications.

But my heart aches for my man too. For his grief. For the way the memory of that video could transform him, so quickly. My heart fills with love for this affectionate and compassionate man and I wish, more than anything, that I could be with him so that my love could pour into him and soothe his pain.

Another day, another ending.

The share… He is lying on his bed again and we are talking. His mother enters and sits with him. He begins to translate. I watch his face as he turns to her, listens, concentrating, and I can hear the lilt and tumble of those words and sounds that I can not understand but love so much. He turns to me then and translates and I write down his instructions.

This carries on for a little while. Occasionally I ask questions, sometimes he mimes to clarify. I’m filled with pride for him as he explains in a language he claims he is not good at but I know better. Hours of us talking every day have helped him and I am proud of that too. Equally though, I can see the concentration on his face and the occasional frustration too.

“You know I get nervous when I have to talk like that and I am trying to listen to my mother and then find the words to tell you. It’s exhausting.” He sees my smile, my laugh and says “but you like it though, don’t you? You like seeing me like that?” He laughs himself but the chance to reply or explain is taken from me as the call has to end abruptly.

The look… Later. Another call. Laughter, laughter, laughter. My sides ache, tears run down my face… And yet, I still see that moment. The moment when he is laughing too, uncontrollably, so much so that he pauses his performance and we just laugh together.

And although he is laughing too, I know this is all for me. I see it in the way he watches me, his smiles at my laughter. He continues until I can barely breathe.

But then he tires and so do I. The joking slows. His head rests on his hand, on his pillow. And at that moment I am overwhelmed. He looks at me with such intensity and love. My heart fills with love and it aches to be near him, my body to touch him, my love to pour into him. I’ve never wanted him so much in all our time together… Our bodies and souls to connect physically as they have just done mentally in our shared laughter.

“What’s this face? I’ve not seen this face before. Tell me what’s on your mind..” and the dance begins, the to and the fro, the questions and answers. I don’t tell him but the explanation is not needed anyway. Within seconds he tells me: knowing me and reading me with ease, as he always does.

As the day before, the call ends with love.

“I love you, so much baby” His voice is soft and a little gruff and the sound and sight of his kisses threaten to overwhelm me.

He watches and waits for mine and I send them, my heart and soul willing for the magic to transport the gesture over time and place so he may feel just a little of what I feel for him.

I’m OK.

I am, honestly. But I will warn you, this post is a long one.

He did enough with the unexpected phonecall last night to actually talk about our ‘problem‘ and then his texts and calls today put my mind at relative ease as things are back to normal.

I’ve done as any good English teacher would do and I’ve spent some of my day reading about ‘anxiety in relationships’.

There are some good articles out there and they did put my mind at rest somewhat. They talked about the need to process what might be causing the anxiety as well as reasurring you that some anxiety is normal. Note the word ‘some’ though.

Anyone who has read my blog for a little while will know that I suffer from anxiety anyway. And we are all on edge at the moment. Plus I’m in a new relationship. And it’s long distance. Which is new to me. And I’m absolutely in love with him. Yep, a pretty toxic mix of anxiety-causing factors there. So first of all, I’m going to give myself a break.

Now. Processing time. Again, readers of my blog will know that I do this: I think (probably too much) and I process. Often I find the answers I need. Sometimes I manage to follow them for a little while. It’s the constancy that’s the issue.

One article talks about the negative impact of previous relationships:

So, I can put a ‘hell yes’ next to every one of those. Not bad for a woman who has had four and a half relationships. Is it any wonder I’m a mess? First boyfriend probably cheated on me. He certainly did number two and three before I finally got shut of him. Lost Soul (my half of a relationship which says it all) did two and three. My husband? Well, he doesn’t quite fit into any but he lied repeatedly and I felt that he didn’t love me as much as he should have done. Although, you can say the same about my feelings for him. You can read about my previous failed relationships in earlier posts.

So all of that is equating to a lot of hurt and distrust. And whilst I loved most of them, I have not felt as I feel now for Wild Card, except perhaps for Lost Soul in the beginning.

Self esteem: Well, I haven’t got much. Probably because of the above and the fact that I have been very overweight for most of my adult life. I’ve been told I’m pretty but I don’t trust people because I feel they say that as a softener for the fact I am big. Sure, I’ve lost three and a half stone but I probably need to lose the same again to be classed as the right weight.

Questioning: Yep, I question everything. A lot. I overthink, a lot. Everything thing he says or does, doesn’t say or doesn’t do, gets heavily processed in my brain. We all know that anxiety impairs your ability to think properly. Overthinking can lead you down the wrong path. I’ve got to keep with the facts and stop ruminating with ‘what ifs’.

Another article talks about taking your fears and considering how your thoughts have created the anxiety but then how they can quell it. Here goes:

How my thoughts support my fears: You can never truly know how someone feels – you only know as much as they care to show and share with you. Even then they can lie. He may hurt me. He may lie. He may cheat. But he also might not and worrying about it isn’t going to make it any less likely. If it’s going to happen, it will happen. That’s his choice. I’m pretty sure he wishes I was thinner, although I know he likes my bottom. And my eyes and lips. And hair. And smile come to think about it. (oops this should be in the other section). He does make me jealous, sometimes on purpose. He teases and jokes. It’s part of who he is. But also, there is a place for my jealousy. He is a very attractive, younger, single man. I’m not the easy option and probably not the best, if I am being honest. And he is honest with me, perhaps too much. He’s told me things about past girlfriends to be honest with me but then fails to see how this then affects me. He’s done it today – mystery caller has turned out to be his ex.

How my thoughts go against my fears: I have no evidence that he has cheated or will cheat. He has strong feelings about monogomy so I have to hope that it goes for him too. He’s always been very honest about the nature of our relationship as he is very aware of our cultural differences. I have to trust that is because he is serious. And his feelings? He tells me he loves me regularly and if the amount of attention and time are anything to go by, it’s clear that he feels something. If he wasn’t attracted to me, he wouldn’t be with me. That man is delicious and I have no doubts that there are some very beautiful women who like him. But he is with me: he is pursuing me. That has to count for something. (and he likes my bottom, eyes, lips, smile and hair. ) I know then he’s making me jealous to tease. It’s obvious. I know he is joking. I’ve just got to stop my mind from twisting what I know is a joke into something it isn’t.

And I know when he is being sincere. I know by the way he talks and how he looks. He told me about his ex calling today so that I would stop thinking it was another girl. (!) I know that. When he questioned my being quiet (goddam him, I really tried to act normal) I simply asked what he had said to her. They had ‘chit chat’ apparently. He told me to not think about it as it was nothing. As our conversation ended he brought it up again, telling me not to be sad as it was nothing. He always soothes me at the end of a call if I have shown any anxiety or stress about anything (none him-related stuff too) and it’s one of the ways he shows he cares. He would not have told me about her calling or tried to make me feel better if it was anything to worry about.

Ultimately, my anxiety is making this relationship unhappy. My anxiety. I’ve got to trust him, otherwise, what is the point? If I trust him and he breaks that trust then he wasn’t worth it anyway. If I don’t trust him then it will be me who could destroy this. It has to stop.