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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I have come to the conclusion, after much pondering, that I may well have had my second breakdown/burnout/whatever it’s name is now.

The weird thing is…I didn’t feel it, as such. I’ve felt crushing anxiety – that much is true. About a year ago I upped my low dose antidepressant because of all the bother that was starting the academy take over. So, yes, the anxiety was there.

What wasn’t there, was that deep dark numb pit that I fell in. The one that, last time, I hadn’t known was swallowing my whole path until I was in it head first. When I think back to that time – weirdly around this time of year too (!!!!) in 2017, I can’t remember a great deal. I remember that first moment. I remember days staring out the window at the field opposite accompanied by my cat and a hot drink. I remember that I didn’t shower much and I wore my depression hat – a glittery silver woolly hat – to hide my grief.

So no, that hasn’t happened. I’ve avoided the deep dark pit. Don’t get me wrong, a few times I’ve thought I’ve seen him far up ahead but I was wrong.

Anxiety- yes. Depression – no. However, there are signs that I’ve not been quite right recently.

First, Wildcard noticed. He notices everything. Second, I’ve put weight on and my nails are short. Third, I can’t get on top of my house. You’d think with not working for 6 months I would have mastered it. Despite feeling like I’ve tried nearly every day, I’ve failed. Completely. More recently, I’ve even stopped with my facials and putting make up on and I think that was why Wildcard was so suspicious when I went to the Christmas Market spruced up like a turkey. This last month I’ve stopped using the Fabulous App. I’ve stopped drawing and painting.

There is sufficient evidence there to say that despite feeling otherwise, I’ve had some sort of mental episode. Why haven’t I felt the depression? Well, it could be my tablets working. It could be that I am generally happier (that needs some pondering). It could be because of Wildcard. He’s the only new thing in my life.

I’m avoiding stuff though. I’m plodding along, doing whatever I actually do each day and avoiding a whole heap of crap in the corner. I know I need to deal with it. I know that if I don’t, eventually that pile of crap is going to devour me. I just can’t seem to start or sustain a start.

I was notified this week that I have been writing this blog for five years. Five years! My blog is nowhere near as successful as some, and particularly some of you who read my blog. I know in part that’s because I don’t always put myself out there and join in with other blogs. Something else I stopped doing and need to start. But my near 500 followers mean a lot to me, the ones that have been with me for a long time (Anna and Susie) and those who comment and give me advice (Kay and Writerswithoutwords). Thank you to all of you. 🥰🥰

It was a shock though to realise that I started this blog because my life had been through a major life changing event- the permanent separation from my husband. I wanted a new life, a new me, and this blog was going to document that. My Cinderella style transformation.

Yeah. That hasn’t happened.

Life has hit me with a few more catastrophic events to deal with.

And yet, I am a very different person than I was five years ago. My priorities have changed. My goals. I’m still lost but in a different way.

I’ve written before about not quite knowing how I want my life to be. Not being sure how or where to start.

I think I’ve realised that there is a really good reason I haven’t done much over the last six months.

I just wasn’t ready.

Six months rest and recuperation is nothing over the course of a whole life time. So my friend wisely said.

And so, whilst I didn’t feel it the same, I acknowledge the time nonetheless.

I was not ready. But now I am.

Oh.

For want of a better title, this little word with have to do. I do it a misjustice – those two letters, with a simple change of tone can cover a complex array if emotions. Which, considering, is quite apt.

I’m in a weird state of head- numbness. I say this because whilst my head feels devoid of emotion – never a good sign- my stomach is beating its own tune of woe and pain, signally the churning effects of anxiety and angst.

But my head? It could be a bit of shock or it could be a bit of ‘I told you’ and maybe ‘I was expecting this’. It maybe a bit of hope and a little disbelief in my own judgement.

So what’s the problem?

Let’s go back a day and I will fill you in.

After my previous post and the realisation that I hadn’t heard from Wildcard in five hours, I decided to send a quick text asking if he was OK and wishing him a good day with his family at the wedding.

I was rewarded with a series of video calls which spanned the rest of the afternoon and early evening. He included me in this wedding by showing me every part of it and by including his mother on the screen to wave at me and say hello. This was a real sign of thawing and I had more hope that the end of his sulking was nigh. His quick call when he got home showed that whilst a little kiss was permitted, the sulking hadn’t quite gone altogether.

Yesterday morning was similar. I had my morning call. No affection as such but he told me to take care and have a good day. He even, unsolicited, sent me a beautiful photo that he had taken of him and his mum. Then…nothing again. Knowing his shift patterns had changed a little, I waited and waited.

I had an online appointment at 3pm and so messaged at 2pm to let him know. I had a reply at 2.55pm and he let me know he was still working. I even got a heart. So yes, I was feeling positive we had turned a corner.

When he finished work he called and we chatted almost as normal. He told me his cousin had just had her baby and that they may go to visit. My departing kiss was declined but he called again within the hour on the way to visit and again when he got there. So, in terms of frequency and purpose all was well. Affection was hit and miss.

He called as he was leaving and then once he got home. His conversation, whilst lacking at times, was better. I even got the beginnings of some of his sillier, jokey behaviour which is a really good sign.

Am I giving you too much detail? For my own benefit as well as yours, I am trying to prove why I thought things were going the right way.

In the evening, he mentioned a gift for his birthday that I had been unable to bring as it had arrived after I had left. He asked if I had sent it yet. I said no, but I would just bring it with me. He frowned in surprise. ‘Why don’t you just send it?’ I replied that it would probably be quicker if I brought it when I came next.

‘Are you serious?’

I want to tell you that it was a look of pleasant surprise on his face but it wasn’t. ‘When are you coming?’

‘I don’t know. You said next month sometime. You said we may travel.’

What?‘ Genuinely, it was like he had no idea what I was talking about. My heart sank. So he hadn’t meant what he said.

He then turned to his mother and, glancing at me, I can only assume told her that I wanted to come back next month. He laughed a little as he spoke.

And that is the ‘oh’ moment for me. The lid has gone on the coffin, and whilst it may not be sealed yet, the fact there is a coffin says it all.

A man in love would want me to visit as soon and as often as possible. He would repeat what he had said before- that it was my home too, I could come when I wanted, the flights were cheap so come next month. He didn’t. He laughed.

Maybe it is surprise. Maybe it is shock I want to return so soon. Maybe I exhausted his poor mother. Maybe he was still angry. Maybe he just isn’t missing me yet. Maybe I have taken their words too literally. Maybe I am crazy.

This morning I have woken similarly numb. And dazed. I don’t know how or who to be. Do I message or not? Do I give up and leave it to him or not?

I’m lost.

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.

The sex post

I’m being purposefully blunt. Whilst I hope my writing remains respectful, if you don’t want to read about this, I understand.

I’ve been awake since 6.30am which is really annoying as I had hoped to have a lie-in today. I should have remembered to turn off my alarm then.

But I’m back in bed with a coffee and I’m going to wade through yesterday’s events.

Since I’ve been off work, Wild Card has called me even more regularly. Once he checks in, I can expect a videocall approximately every two hours. Some are short, some are an hour or so. There’s not a lot to talk about and yet I wouldn’t have it any other way. I just want to be near him.

But yesterday was a big first for me: phone sex.!!!!

First, let’s put some context in. I’m weeks away from my 40th birthday. As a person, I think I am that strange mix of coming across as a moralistic prude but actually I have a really healthy sex drive. I’ve grown up in a generation where girls shouldn’t sleep around but it was accepted that boys would (which doesn’t make sense if you think about it). Despite the healthy sex drive, I have said no to men I physically would have loved to have had sex with – I have some standards and respect for myself. This included saying no to Lost Soul on many occasions, even though I was desperate for that physical and emotional connection with him. As a rule, I’ve avoided one night stands although I have had a couple, and apart from one, it was with men I had met a few times so they were not complete strangers. (Yes, I know they still count as a one night stand.)

Maybe some of you would call me repressed – it’s the modern world, if you want consensual sex, have it! Some of you will think the opposite because I have admitted to having one night stands. All I can say to that is, you have to make your own decisions about what you deem is acceptable in your life and culture. I don’t look down on other people’s sex lives and in fact, I am often in awe of them. Before visiting Wild Card, I hadn’t had sex in six years. Yes, six years. The majority of my 30s were in self enforced celibacy. That is a very depressing thought, now that I have realised it.

I wrote every day during my week with Wild Card. I didn’t mention that we had sex, although I think I hinted at it. We had sex. A lot.

It goes without saying, that the lack of physical intimacy in an LDR is a real problem. Sex comforts when you’ve rowed or have had a bad day. Sex is exciting. Sex proves your attraction and wants and needs. Sex connects you. But it is missing in an LDR and is like the white elephant in the room, particularly once you have met and have been intimate.

I have a healthy sex drive. I’m very attracted to Wild Card. Even his voice. The way he looks at me. Sigh. And I’ve experienced what sex can be like with him. But I live in a different country to him. And we are both in lock down.

So how to keep the intimacy going?

What I will say, is that he has always been very respectful. Unlike English men, he has never sent me a ‘dick-pic’ or asked for a picture from me. Until recently, we have not even talked about sex. In fact, I think the first time it was mentioned was in the days leading up to my visit and it was more a fleeting comment. There have been times where he has ended a call because our flirting has become too much and he doesn’t want to ‘hurt’ me. (I’ve translated that to sexual frustration).

But then, I had the phonecall last week. We’d been on videochat and he had switched to voicecall as he was in the street. I discovered his voice had a direct line to my newly awakened sex drive. He sounds so hot over the phone! So, of course I told him that. Maybe that knowledge built up to what he did yesterday.

In the past month, since my week with him, things have built up to this moment. More of staring at each other longingly. Brief recollections about our intimacy when we were together. There have been a couple of times when I have thought he has wanted to talk in more depth, but whether it’s been me or him, they have shut down.

Yesterday, he called me as soon as he got home at lunchtime. We had a brief chat then he went to eat.

An hour later he called me. As in, phonecall, not video.

He knew what he was doing. And it was the hottest, sexiest thing I have ever done in my nearly 40 years. I have never done that before, not with my husband or anyone else. But my goodness, I will happily do it again with him.

He talked me through his wanting me. He told me what he would do if I was with him: there, now. He asked me what I liked about our time together and what I wanted right now. I was new to this, but got lost in the moment, my shyness forgotten. I shut my eyes, pictured him and told him how I missed him and wanted him. I talked about our intimate moments, my favourite moments of being together. And part way through, he asked me if I loved him: Over and over. And he told me he loved me, over and over. To hear his love, and his want and his need for me.. Well, it soon overcame any prudish thoughts or embarrassment I could have had.

Thing is, as it perhaps obvious, I wouldn’t have done that with just anyone. I haven’t done it with anyone. And I guess, with how respectful he has been, he knows that. It was surprisingly intimate: I felt connected to him afterwards. That was unexpected me.

So, with that in mind, our conversation later that evening came as a bit of a surprise. More in my next post.

Love highs and love lows

A weekend of highs and lows. It just seems to be the way at the moment.

Friday was fine overall – we chatted in the day and he called me a couple of times at night. I’m starting to realise more that when he’s quiet it is usually because he is tired.

Saturday, I did not get up in a good place. I’d spoken to one of my friends who had been self isolating for four days due to a medical condition. He’d spent those four days scouring the net about Corona. So by the time I spoke to him, he was extremely anxious. Whilst I had tried to comfort him, some of what he had said stuck with me. I woke up emotional and negative. I was questioning the importance of everything, Wild Card included.

But Wild Card and I got through that. We spoke numerous times over the weekend. The teasing, the laughing, the affection is all there. We even had some sexy talk.

The highlight for me was rather unexpected though. 90% of our communication is through videochat and over the course of a day, we are probably online two to three hours. (That’s what made the day where we didn’t talk much, so bad.)

This weekend though, I got a phonecall. Yes, you read right. A phonecall. ‘So what?’ I hear you say. Well, the thing about a phonecall with someone you are attracted to, is that you can’t focus on their face and expressions. It’s all about the voice. And my goodness, what a voice. I hadn’t realised just how sexy it was! As in, my heart was pounding and I actually felt turned on. Oh. MY.

It also felt a little like when I first met him in person. I knew him, knew his face and his voice, and yet experiencing that without a screen felt familiar and yet other at the same time. I remember sitting in the car on the way back from the airport and just listening to his voice in real life and thinking, wow. Perhaps that’s why it had such an effect on me this week. I’ve heard his voice practically every day for months now, and yet without the video it sounds different. And really, really hot.

Last night ended up being a lowlight unfortunately, after a weekend of positivity.

Where to start. His ex contacted him whilst we were talking. He told me she had messaged him. I remind him that she had messaged him before and he had told me what she said. (She misses him. Nine years and a marriage to someone else later.) He asked whether he should reply and I said it was not my business, at first, which he found amusing. I may have then made my feelings clear about contacting him when she was married. I asked if she knew about me, expecting a no. He admitted that he had told her about me and that he was in a relationship with me. She’d asked him how it was going and he had said good, he liked it.

So I was happy with that. But then somehow we got on to my past relationships and although I told him what I thought he already knew , something I said hit a nerve. He went very quiet very quickly and said he was going. I wouldn’t let him, saying we needed to talk about it. He wouldn’t. I could see he was agitated but he wouldn’t talk. So I talked too much. And cried, again. He doesn’t like it when I cry. He told me that he loved me: ‘you know that’. He said I had done nothing wrong but… I know there was something.

This morning, on what is starting to become a nasty ritual, I sent a long text once again stating what I feel for him. I told him that those past relationships had led me to him, had made me value him so that I could cope with the challenges of an LDR and I really believe that. I told him we needed to talk when he was unhappy with something. He text back, briefly, but said all was well and pretended that nothing had happened. I couldn’t do any more.

Some days, I really feel that the world talks to you, if you listen carefully. There are no coincidences. Whether it’s God or a loved one, I don’t know. But somehow, things fall into place.

For instance, it was my first day in work since the schools shut down. I was asked to do something really unusual – write a letter which I then had to post manually to local residents. It was bizarre but the best thing. I was in the Spring sunshine. It gave me thinking time but equally, it put everything into perspective. I saw beautiful flowers hidden under hedgerows. I saw a red leaf on the ground which looked like perfect pouty lips. Little things that pulled my mind out of despair about Corona and my currently tumultuous relationship with Wild Card.

I got a videochat late afternoon but it was one of those where he wants me present but we have little to say to each other. I suppose it feels like us sitting in the same room whilst one person is watching TV and the other is reading. It lasted about 40 minutes despite that.

After the call, I went on Facebook. Maybe there’s something on there that scans your phone and sends you content pertinent to you. But 3/4 of the articles on there were about self love and the importance of loving yourself if you want a relationship to work. (I haven’t written or searched for self love btw). It all hit home. I’ve got to be more positive. I was allowing everything to drag me down again.

I got up and thought about everything. The messages I had received from the cosmos. That I need to practice self love and that was something that I wasn’t. To value the little things again. I was crying too much, being sensitive too much. It needed to change. I needed to be positive.

How different the other calls were after that! The last call felt like this last few weeks hadn’t happened. We were laughing at the stupid things I have said when our language differences have led to misunderstandings – and believe me they are stupid. We had much fun remembering them and talking through them and we both laughed freely. He is intelligent and witty and I love that about him. And how, even though we are laughing at my stupid mistakes, I can see the love in his face. It’s a weird concept because no other boyfriend has made me feel humble like that but I really like it. He loves me for me, mistakes and all. Highlights and lowlights.

Milestones

I’m cosy in bed. I don’t want to get up. Here I feel safe from all the madness in the world around me.

This week has just been awful. From my ups and downs with Wild Card, ridiculously hectic work at week, increased coronavirus anxiety wherever I turn, an over anxious son not coping with his new ADHD medication to a huge argument with my 15 year old over how much revision she is doing. Oh, and I came on my period yesterday.

I could not wait for yesterday to end. I came home early and was grateful for the peace of my home. I messaged Wild Card. He had responded to my early morning text (saying I was thinking about him) – he had been on the way to drop off his brother and sister in law at the airport. A big day. The night before he had surprised me by being on the phone with me as much as ever, despite it being his brother’s last night at home.

He responded to my message and said he was well and asked if I was home. At that point, my mum arrived.

I’ve not seen my mum for a month. She’d been up for the day and had spent time with my sisters but I’m never 100% sure whether she will make it to me because of how late it gets. But she arrived and I was happy.

Unfortunately, my sisters arrived with my niece and nephew. You know I love them, of course I do, but I wasn’t in the mood for the noise and house-full and I was a little frustrated that they had been with mum all day and then had come to share my limited time with her.

Then, my ex turned up with my youngest to pick up something so you can imagine what happened next – my son wanted to stay and play. The house was getting fuller and noisier, and all I wanted was to sip coffee in front of the fire and chat with my mum.

Just as my ex was leaving – without our son I might add – Wild Card called me. At that point though, my sister had decided to engage in conversation with my ex about something work related. I was forced to take the call upstairs.

I don’t know how much my ex knows. My kids know, so no doubt my youngest has said something. My ex also walked in when I was on the phone once to Wild Card. He’s not stupid. But I’ve not discussed it with him because, quite frankly, it’s been none of his business. Now that my kids know, well, I guess that changes things somewhat. As does the milestone we have just met…

The call with Wild Card was short. He knew my mum was there and I think he called because he probably wanted to meet her. Me being upstairs, not with my mum, confused him a little. I was super conscious of my sister’s on going conversation with my ex downstairs and I was a little distracted. He asked if I was busy and I said I was a little, so he said he would speak to me later. I knew he was a little put out.

I went downstairs and listened to my sister’s conversation with my ex which, not only prevented me from talking with my mum, but prevented me from introducing her to Wild Card. The kids were screaming and shouting and all I wanted to do was shout and scream with them. I just stayed silent instead.

Eventually he left. My sister commented on my being quiet (I was screaming inside) and I told her about my terrible week, being on my period etc. She asked about Wild Card and I admitted that he had just called and explained the difficulty of the past 20 minutes.

Whilst nervous, my mum said she was happy to talk to him and so I called him back.

He was as surprised as my mum was, but I walked over and sat next to my mum, holding the phone so he could see both of us.

In the mental condition I was in, I don’t think I fully appreciated what a big step this was. Added to that, was that I was trying to translate between a heavily accented (and utterly delicious) foreign man with developing English and a partially deaf 63 year old, nervous mother. Interesting times.

It went really well, considering. He told my mum that she had a really nice daughter, (My sister joked that he meant her). He then went and put his mum on the phone too! Very limited English speaking mother meet deaf mother… But we got through it. My mum thanked his mum for looking after me and she said I was always welcome.

Mum and Wild Card chatted a little longer whilst my sisters got ready to leave and offered to drop off my youngest on the way. They did well considering, and by the time I got back to them they were joking with each other – my mum has a great sense of humour, particularly when nervous. At one point she even ‘sang’ to him whilst I stifled a laugh, and he commented that she had caused an earthquake with her voice. Much hilarity all round. 😊

When the call ended, I had half an hour with mum before she left. I told her about my bad week, and we also discussed my other sister’s s new reluctance to engage with Wild Card. Mum admitted that they had discussed it – my sister cannot understand why I have to be with him, why couldn’t I have found someone closer? How can I possibly have feelings for him? Whilst my mum and I acknowledge that she may not understand, I am frustrated that this has resulted in her not wanting to converse with him and even pulling faces when I talk about him. This is going to need a conversation at some point. My mum told me to ignore her.

Wild Card and I chatted for the remainder of the evening. He opened up about his brother’s marriages and I was surprised to hear that he doesn’t get on with one of his sister in laws (not the one from the day before). He told me some interesting stories about her and I felt that we were hitting another milestone as he was telling me some quite personal things – out of respect, he had always limited his talking about them.

He then joked that he was the oldest and ‘single’ and that he ws free to do what he wanted unlike his married brothers (one in particular, so his story told). I reminded him that he was not single and this then led to a conversation about us.

He asked again about my feelings for him and questioned how I knew how strong my feelings were. We talked about our first kiss, him reminding me of parts I had forgotten. He asked me if I missed lying on his chest whilst he played with my hair, did I miss his hugs and kisses… My heart ached for him as he asked me.

He told me how much he loved me and how serious he was about me. And he seemed more like his old self, the pressures of the week finally lifted perhaps.

For the first time in a week, I went to bed relaxed. The bad week was over. He has met my mother: our mothers have met! Who knows what the future holds now?

Update and reflection – part two

So, I did message in the morning to wish him a good journey, just the once. I didn’t respond when he did because it wasn’t needed.
My calmness was rewarded with messages in the afternoon, a video chat half way on his journey and another when he got home.

Yesterday, his first day back at home, he called me as I was leaving work (which is really early for him), when I got home and then he was messaging me throughout the evening as he visited family.

At one point he called, a silent video, whilst we messaged. We talked about how we had been having amazing sex that time a week before, and it was so hot and exciting to see his guarded but obvious facial expressions as we wrote to each other.

He called again when he got home. Things seemed back to normal. He asked if I missed him. He asked if I loved him. He questioned my feelings, particularly in response to the fact that I have been married.

He struggles with this. He doesn’t believe me when I say that I didn’t feel for my husband like I feel for him. That sex with my husband wasn’t like how it was with him.

I am being entirely truthful when I tell him this. And this, this is the source of my anxiety because it is true. Yes, I loved my husband. We were happy, for a short time. But the majority of our relationship was filled with unhappiness and doubt. I worked so hard to make it work, for years. I told myself: that’s what you do when your married, you work on it. There’s no such thing as a soul mate. You find a good person, accept their flaws and work on it.

The cracks in the relationship with my husband were there in the first year. If I hadn’t got pregnant within the first year, we probably would not have stayed together. But I pulled him along the path of a serious relationship, hoping that each stage would cement those cracks: live together, get engaged, buy a house, get married. They never did. The cracks became a chasm. Years of little or no sexual intimacy. Him sleeping on the couch. An 18 month separation. A third pregnancy from a one-off unprotected sexual encounter in the hope that it would repair the awful sex life we were having following getting back together.

My postnatal depression following the birth of my third child was in direct response to the fact that I knew that nothing had changed. My marriage was over and had been for some years. We stayed together for a couple of years after that, but he slept on the couch, we had no intimacy and we argued continuously.

This feels very different with Wild Card, irrespective of the long distance.

***********************

It was getting late as we talked and I told him I would let him sleep as he was in work the next day. He said no. He told me to ‘come here, next to me’ as he lay down, eyes weary.

‘You want me next to you?’ I asked.

‘Yes’. I lay on my bed too and just watched his face as his eyes closed. I could see the softness of his lips, his dark lashes resting on his face. And I was transported back there, to him. When I closed my eyes I could remember the feel of his body next to mine, the sound of his breathing, his smell, my feelings as I lay with him… loving him, and feeling loved in return.

Eventually we said goodnight, sent kisses and ‘I love you’s and the call ended.

Today has been more of the same. A morning call followed by a longer afternoon call where we played games on messenger – that was fun. He played with my youngest for ages too which earned him even more of my affection. Another call on the way home from the gym. And again this evening…

I love every second. I love the way he looked at me tonight. I even love that my sister asked why we were not talking on the phone and he replied:

“She knows me and I know her. We are talking with our eyes.”

And my goodness, were we…

This is what I have got to try to remember when I’m panicking. Days like today.