Beginnings and ends, part 1

Today I am in no man’s land, numb. Makes a change, I guess.

I’ve spent the last 6 days in bed on the whole . Covid has wiped me out.

My last post was in a moment of uplifting. It didn’t last.

So this…from this point on, is either the beginning of the end or, the end and a new beginning. And whilst I am not in complete control, my decisions from this point could potentially sway it either way.

I’ve really hurt and upset him this time.

He’s not faultless, no. But my reactions and my irresponsible method of dealing with everything…well, that has caused this issue.

Let me tell you what happened.

Two days ago, I was feeling a little better – not needing to sleep all day, just pockets of it. At one such semi-awake moment, I decided to get my laptop to watch something as I had uncomfortably survived with my phone the day before.

As it was loading, I realised that I hadn’t used it since before my trip to see Wildcard. Sure enough, as it started, Messenger opened.

In the week leading up to Christmas, I’d had an issue with my phone draining when I plugged in the charger. This had led me to downloading the app on my laptop. The issue, is that I hadn’t deactivated the status button.

If I see someone is online but hasn’t read my message, it unnerves me – and that goes for anyone, not just Wildcard. Admittedly, in the early start of a relationship, I find this particularly hard. With him, to be fair, there have been very rare occasions when he hasn’t replied quickly. He always replies and usually in a good time. But, undeniably, not being able to see when he is active has helped me manage my expectations of this. It’s been turned off for over three years and for good reason.

So, the Messenger screen opened automatically as I clearly hadn’t shut it down before Christmas, and I could see that he’d been active 15 minutes ago. He’d last spoken to me over an hour before.

It shouldn’t matter, should it? Who am I to dictate who he speaks to and how? But, when that shock rolls through your body and you feel sick and scared, you’re not thinking of that.

I shut the laptop and stewed a little. He uses his sim/normal phone to message and call his parents and work colleagues and main friends. One brother uses WhatsApp to call. The other does use Messenger but not at this time of day, usually in the evening.

Listen to me trying to justify and catalogue what was normal! But that is what I did.

So then the adrenalin built, my negative thinking built and collected and spiralled. Who was he speaking to?

I opened up the laptop again. He was now active again. He was supposed to be in work.

I franatically searched for alternatives. If he was on Facebook, would this mean that it would show as active even if he’s not on Messenger?

I’m building desperation, I messaged my married friend. I knew that if he called me anytime soon, this irrational behaviour would just burst out. I didn’t even want to speak to him at this point.

She was calm, she was rational. She went through the unreliability of using that little green button as proof from her own experiences, as well as pointing out that it could literally be anyone.

I calmed a little but my head was buzzing. I decided to journal.

It was the worst thing I could have done. I wrote him a non-letter. I poured out every anxiety and fear, everything I worried about and kept inside – even things I haven’t written on here. By the end of it, instead of making me feel calmer, I felt worst. I’d built a spiky defence of accusation and hurt around myself, not released the demon thoughts into the ether. Everything negative was now up front and centre in my head. I even tried to counteract by writing a positive one but I couldn’t, the negativity was now like a loaded gun.

Yes, I did keep checking. I watched him go offline and later come back on again.

I managed to keep hold of myself when he called after work. Maybe still having Covid helped hide what was threatening underneath.

Unfortunately, when we had a usual evening call, that was not the case.

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He didn’t call

He didn’t call.

I thought he would.

I expected a call after 30 minutes. It didn’t come. After an hour I checked again – nothing.

Driving home I thought, as I often do.

Is this a good thing? It means he fully trusts me and how can he not? I’ve made my thoughts and love for him very clear. So why did he question my time from work, when he thought I said I would be home an hour earlier…but meeting a friend at night is ok now? I never go anywhere anymore.

I thought about the past and his jealousy- how I always liked it because it was proof from a man who shows so little and actually was how I felt too.

So, I was a little sad there had been no call.

I got home and for 45 minutes, distracted myself with nonsense all the while trying to tell myself this was a good thing.

I argued with myself over posting something provocative on social media, just to see…but I didn’t.

I argued with myself about sending a message, just to tell him I missed him. But I didn’t. It was too late, he would be asleep and he would have messaged me if he wanted to.

Just as I started to spiral into the negativity and self hatred…I heard a ping.

“Are you still out?”

“No baby”

And he calls and I am happy. Because I know he is never awake this late. Because I know he was thinking about me. Because I know he has some trust and some fear.

He called. And I am happy.

Trip 6, Day 8

I was tired this morning and I’m not sure why as I slept well. Maybe it’s all the overthinking – that has to take up some energy.

He came, we cuddled. In those moments, just lying there as I often am, you really relish the soft touch of his lips on your cheek; the strength of his arms around you or the sensual touch of bare feet on bare feet. It’s my favourite time, even if there was no love-making, like this morning.

After breakfast, I showered and then we took another stroll on his roof terrace. The sun was bright and warm and I love chatting with him up there. He told me we would be going to his city that afternoon.

We’ve been to the city about three times across my trips. Today though, we did more of the touristy things. Being a Friday, a lot of the shops and market stalls were closed, but enough were open to make it enjoyable – more so because with less stalls and less people, you could really get a feel for the place. We saw three of the main historical and architectural wonders his city is famed for and we took some beautiful pictures. It was good to be out in the sunshine too.

I was surprised and really touched when he bought me some beautiful leather sandals from the market and enjoyed watching the sunset as we drove home. Stopping to buy my favourite fruit from a farmer on the way home- even though they were expensive – was also a kind thought.

We were soon home and eating a delicious dinner. His parents soon went to bed but, unlike last night, there was no tension or undecision of what to do. It was my last night so we were staying up.

Not long after his parents left, I leant over his knees and asked for kiss. Then I told him I needed one. Either way, I didn’t get. He was engrossed in deleting old photos from his Google account making room for the beautiful photos we had taken that day. Being the high-maintenance craze-pot that I am, I of course was a little nettled by that. There was a little banter back and forth and eventually the phone was put down and the teasing commenced. Like the previous night, he would beckon me forward and, when I did, would exclaim that I misunderstood. After a while and under threat of me sitting back down in my place at his feet, he took to holding me there by my clothes or hair, an amused gleam to his eye (which I will freely admit now that I love) and a smile on his face.

Never to be outdone or skimp on the jesting, round two involved him pressing his lips together most invitingly for a kiss, then moving away when I tried. I’d ‘give up’, he’d hold me in place and then it would start again.

Round three was war of the noses. He’d let me close enough so our noses touched but that’s it. Amusing yes. Frustrating, ridiculously. Enough so…you guessed it by this point I emotionally couldn’t see the funny side and as ‘this is the last evening you will have time kiss me for 5 months’ screamed through my head, obliterating all sense and reason, I started to cry. AGAIN.

At this, he pushed his lips to mine and his kisses were…out of this world. He was generally shocked by my crying AGAIN, I can’t understand why, as that it pretty much all I’ve done. He asked, did I not like his playing? Which I replied, I did, but I guess the blubbering mess of my face suggested otherwise. I told him I loved him and then,

“Do you hate me?’ One because he had every right to and two, because that was what he said to me most of all – his way of professing his love in a way that I only know and he can pretend he hasn’t just blurted his heart out.

“No.” His voice was deep and emotion tinged and I lifted my head up in surprise to look at him.

“No? Tell me you love me then.”

And he did, although I didn’t miss the way his eyes flicked away right before the end. So close though.

After more beautiful kisses, I decided I emotionally couldn’t cope any more. I got up and got us both some water. Placing his bottle on his table, I turned to go and saw such a look of pain in his face. He was surprised I was going and looked genuinely hurt. I’ve never, ever seen that look before. I lay back down with him and he held me. He said he didn’t understand me. We hugged, we kissed, and soon it was time for me to go. He didn’t get up to walk me to bed.

I went into my room, sat down, and let it all out. Why do I keep doing this? Why do I ruin everything? He’d be better off without me.

After a moment, I went to the bathroom to clean up but then I went back to him.

He made room and I held him. He said again, “I don’t know why you do that. Why do you cry every night?”

“I don’t know. Maybe I’m not good for you.”

“OK.. so..” and that was all he said. He buried his face into my neck and we just held each other, his sentence unfinished…mine missing.

Before long, he roused enough to tell me to go to bed. He walked me to my door, kissed me, and said he loved me.

I didn’t sleep well, as usual. I woke a number of times, full of self loathing and fear. I’d never seen him so hurt before, so dejected. What could I say? How can I explain?

At 4.30am, I admitted defeat and went to the bathroom. As I walked through the hallway, I thought I heard the TV on from his room, but on the way back it was quiet. I lay back in bed, trying not to imagine he hadn’t wanted me to know he was awake. Either way, I needed to try to sleep.

Within moments though the door opened and he asked me to switch on the lamp. He told me he had had bad dreams and now couldn’t sleep. He crawled into bed beside me, and locked me within his arms. Before long, he was asleep and I lay there, thinking of course.

I barely wanted to move in case he left. Time passed by and eventually, I too fell asleep.

Trip 6, Day 7 – 10pm

True to his word, around 10pm when he heard one of his parents, he had got up bleary-eyed and mussed-haired. He checked the time, kissed me and said goodnight then left.

After some time being consoled by my friend and being brought back down to earth, I calmed. But of course I didn’t sleep well.

I woke a number of times, wondering what time it was, wondering how things would be in the morning. I also had my first school dream of the New Year – I start my new job on Monday. In my dream I was lost but kept finding ex pupils who wanted to speak to me. There was a moment of me climbing through a window, escorted by my agency manager, as I tried to get to my new classroom.

Eventually, I woke at 8.30am. I made my morning rituals and fully expected him to not come in until later. He came in before 9am.

I attempt to apologise but he shushed me, held me, and took out his phone. We lay, cuddling for some time.

It was not forgotten though. As we waited for breakfast, he joked that he was going to tell his mum that I thought she went to bed too early. I didn’t like that.

He didn’t tell her but I was a little quiet of breakfast, tired from the poor sleep and the nerves.

Today, he didn’t go to work. We’ve had a nice day relaxing and spent some time on the roof terrace, goofing about. We had a dinner for two as his mum was fasting and dad was out. He blew me kisses throughout the day which made me smile.

By the evening, I was again a little contemplative. At some point, I will need to write this all down. But not now.

As the sun went down, his mum invited to me to eat with her. I wasn’t hungry but I felt she didn’t want to eat alone so joined her. I didn’t eat much, but I think she appreciated me being there.

Then there was tea. I knew what was coming and had no real plan of how to play this. As always, once finished, his mother and father went to bed. There was then silence in our room, other than the TV.

Part of me considered just going to bed (it was 8pm) but then I’d have just made last night seem like it hadn’t mattered. But I also didn’t want to force him to stay up.

Eventually, he put his phone and cup down and beckoned me to him. He teased me for some time, frustrating the hell out of me, but also gave me sweet sweet kisses.

Just after 9pm, I decided to admit defeat and told him I would let him sleep. We tidied away, and I waited for him to say goodnight by the window in my bedroom.

He came in and stood with me, arm around my waist and looking out into the night before smacking my bottom in jest.

I sat on the bed and he joined me, leaning in for a kiss and then tormenting me by pulling away, repeatedly.

He joked that I must be asking myself, why do I have this crazy boyfriend even as my heart is happy. I told him no, that is not what I think. After prompting I whispered, “I ask myself, why am I not good enough?” I don’t even know where that came from and I was as surprised as him except….I know it holds the truth.

He didnt try to discuss that with me for long. Seeing the raw emotion I felt, instead he kissed me gently over and over and over. But before long we were kissing passionately and not long after that, making love.

He left me just after 10pm.

Trip 6, Day 4

Maybe it was the extra kisses, but I didn’t sleep great last night. I just wanted him with me. I could hear the occasional sounds of his moving as a thin partition wall is all that separates us when we are in bed. I tried my best to ‘manifest’ a visit. Didn’t happen.

In the morning he came to me as usual and he held me. Those moments are so precious. There are studies about 20 second hugs and their health and relationship benefits – you should try 20 minutes plus of being locked in someone’s arms, feeling the heat of their body and hearing the beat of their heart. If I could physically get any closer, I would. I can’t, of course.

Another beautiful breakfast and then he went to work. My heart ached today- I couldn’t face him going again and leaving me. The novelty, if there ever was one,  has truly worn out.

I spent the rest of the day watching Bridgerton, writing a few poems and going into climatic shock when I went to the roof terrace to hang out washing and feeling the warmth of 19° sun on my skin. Winter here is definitely not like home. I relished in the sunshine and it revived me a little. However warm and comfortable I may be, I’ve sat in his apartment for three days.

Revived, I went down and was rewarded with a call from Wildcard. He was still working and asked where his mother was. I took the phone to the kitchen and they had a conversation.  I could tell he was mildly agitated about something but know so little of his language, I had no idea about what.

Knowing he would be home within the hour, I settled myself to another episode, happiness blooming inside me of his soon return..

When he comes home, it’s like a full scale firework display inside. As he changed out of his work clothes, I proceeded to clear away my things, aching for that first kiss. Just as I was leaving the bedroom – he called for me to wait for him there and he disappeared into his parents room and quickly returned with something in his hands.

He had a big smile on his face and was excited.

“I have got you a present”

His face was just shining with anticipation. I admittedly, was a little shocked. I thought it was a joke to be honest – may be stain remover as we’d discussed an ink stain on his coat? – and eyed the package in his hands with calculation.

Still excited, he went to close the blinds but said he wanted to see my face when I opened it.

So I did. It was a beautiful, thoughtful, sentimental and heart-felt gift. My mouth opened and I stared. Every part of it had been designed and chosen by him. Every part showed – no declared- his love for me. For all to see. No, it wasn’t an engagement ring. But it didn’t need to be.

Trip 6, day 1 (part 2)

I guess what doesn’t change, is how I feel as we get closer to his country. I spend the first few hours listening to music and playing games on my phone. I’d be lying if I say I don’t think of him, but I try to stay busy.

In the last hour with announcements of ‘last chance refreshments/duty free’, and ‘get ready for landing’…well, the excitement just grows. I’m sick of games by then and so I gaze out the window and just imagine…his face, his eyes, his lips and his kisses. I feel like my body is made of butterflies.

We landed, and sitting on the last row paid off as I was soon through passport control.

He called as I was walking through the doors and then I saw him. And the butterflies turned to heat, to magnetic force, and I just needed to be near him. He gave ne the customary European kisses, but he lingered a little longer and I could see his smiles.

As we walked out toward the car, he told me he had only had time to change before rushing out to get me. I joked that he must smell like work, and leant over to sniff dramatically in jest. And..he kissed my cheek again. “Is that what you want?” He asked. Well, yes, of course I thought but that was pretty unexpected.

Seeing his parents was like coming home. They’re such lovely people. And this time, his dad went straight in for a hug ❤️.

And even though he was exhausted, having worked 12 hours straight before coming for me, we went the longer way home so he could show me the centre of his beautiful city by night.

We arrived at his apartment and got to business with unpacking and settling in.

And then it was time for kisses. Worth every daydream, every second of travelling and waiting.

In jest again though, I wouldn’t let him go, and kept going back for more hugs and kisses, and whilst he isn’t always demonstrable like that, I could see that he loved it and was laughing.

We had a lovely dinner although Wildcard was pale with exhaustion by this point. He stroked my back and just feeling him near made my whole body and soul fill with happiness.

I gave out the presents I had bought and there were more hugs all round from his parents, and tender beautiful kisses from him.

And whilst I longed for more…I wasn’t dissatisfied. In fact, I am very very happy.

My Christmas present

Facebook was a game back then. I’d long ago disabled my real account, bored of the drama and conversely the day to day posts of the contents of someone’s sandwich.

The name was mine but in a different form. I was trying to be a new me. Upon advice, I was using Facebook rather than it use me – talking to strangers from far off places. Trying out socialising skills which were rusty and dusty and under-used. Not that I wasn’t selective – some people I just avoided no doubt like some avoided me.

I will never forget…

Then, one day, there was your request in my inbox. I opened it up to see your face and ‘wow’ left my lips before I smiled. You were single, so no harm. I could…practise my flirting. I could…learn more about a culture I was already intrigued by. I could talk to an attractive man, even for a short time.

I accepted. You messaged. I replied.

In those early days, I was shy and you were persistent. I was hesitant and you were patient.

It was just for fun though.

Until soon it wasn’t. My feelings grew. I was conflicted and torn, suspicious but hopeful. You made me laugh like I no one had ever done. You were consistent and dependable.

And then, less than two months later, it was Christmas. My first Christmas alone.

In the previous year, when Dad had died, I was still numb. I dazzled like a Christmas light, not allowing the grief to surface, determined after six months of loss that I would make Christmas special. I’d filled my house with people and love.

But that year, I was alone. My sisters were with their extended families. My children were with their Dad. And I felt it keenly. I was alone, not with my Dad.

You told me you wouldn’t leave me alone. On a day that means little to you, you made it mean everything to me. You called me, more than before, just to keep me company from thousands of miles away. You made me feel loved and wanted and special. You gave me more than I ever expected.

I love you loyalty and your patience, your integrity and your faith. I love your humour and your teasing, your dependability and your mind. I love your face and your body and your spirit and your soul.

That was the moment I fell in love with you. The time I felt the most alone, the most vulnerable, the most insignificant. That’s when I really knew that I loved you.

I love you.

Happy Guilt

Wildcard and I have a verbal dance. Not being a dancer, I can’t complete this analogy properly but will say it is tango-esque.

He’s a joker, a teaser. Making me laugh for hours and hours is one of the ways he has consistently showed me his love this past few years. He delights in it.

Occasionally though, he will say something a little to the left of laughter…or, more likely, my mood will not see the humour in it. I’ve observed this trigger and know that it’s entirely to do with my fear of losing him and of not being good enough. We then begin our dance of tooing and froing…of empassioned pauses and fast turns, emotional filled, shocking and tense.

Last night’s gem isn’t hard to qualify as I was clearly in that mood yesterday as you can see from my post. I was feeling fear and doubt.

After writing that post, he called as usual, and I tried very hard to raise my positive energy and cast away my fears for another day. And I succeeded at first.

He then made a joke. It was a common one, something he says regularly- daily, even. It’s a joke which I laugh at, accept, feel warmth about 98% of the time.

Today though, I followed up with a question…

And he, as usual, continued his joke. No, he didn’t think of me that way. It didn’t even enter his mind.

The dance stops dead. The female lead freezes and stares at the male.

I was triggered. My mind shifted out of our usual joking – the joke we had had every day – into new territory. It side stepped into a new beat.

I questioned again, digging, clarifying…emotions overriding common sense. At this point, I’m glazed over, mind racing. There’s a lump in my throat and I feel the too-familiar tingle of tears in my eyes.

She spins and turns away….he stalks towards her.

He’s not oblivious. He knows that I’ve entered the dance, stamped my feet and sauntered away. He, of course, chooses to dance.

He questions me – why am I crying.

I reply, I’m not. I’ve managed to stop it.

He retorts, you haven’t. You look like you will explode.

The dance continues.

So I ask again, you really don’t think of me that way?

Yes, he says finally with humour and depth and truth in this eyes. I think.

At that moment she relents and is swept into his arms in a final montage of love.

He says I’m stupid, of course, with humour. Why would he be with me if he didn’t think like that? Why do I ask these questions when I know the answers? Indeed, why do I? The voice of sense is in my head…she sits there smug, knowing the truth but watches as my inner imposter takes the lead for a spell.

This morning I called him when I woke. He was in a good mood and as we greeted each other, he gave a huge grin and was chuckling to himself as he did something on the phone.

“Why are you laughing?”

“Nothing.”

This of course makes me nervous. My brain goes into overdrive- what …or who…was he laughing at? Was he speaking to someone else when I called? Have they sent him something?

“Why are you nervous?” He asks.

“I’m not.”

“You are. Why are you nervous?”

“What were you laughing at?”

“I’ve sent you something. You haven’t seen it yet.”

Oh. So when he was laughing and doing something on his phone, he was actually sending me something. Oh.

I look at my phone and he’s sent a series of photos and I gasp and put my hand to my face and then laugh with him. At first, I don’t remember him taking them but eventually the memory breaks.

The photos are intimate but in an innocent way. We are in bed together and it was one morning when I was there. In the photos he is shirtless (it was the height of summer) and I am wearing a vest top but we are cuddling: with him looking at the camera and me with my head against his chest. Intimate, innocent, but kind of sexy. In the first of them, the angle isn’t great as I look at the camera too, and it’s not very flattering for me, and I remember telling him I didn’t like the photo so I moved to rest my head against his chest and closed my eyes. In the others, it’s recorded a loving moment and I hadn’t remembered or realised he’d taken so many.

There’s been a few times I’ve thought I’ve caught him taking surreptitious photos when I’ve been reading or when I was crying at the airport, saying bye to his mum, and I’ve just gone along with what I was doing- if he wants candid photos, let him. I take them often enough. But I’d forgotten this moment, and in its intimacy I realised once again that he loved me when he took them and he loved me enough this morning to have been looking at them before I called. So, yes, he does think about me in that and every other way.

I ended the call in happy guilt. Guilt that my mind jumps to the negative, so quick to allow my inner demons to cloud my judgement. Happy that he has proved again that he loves me and wants me.

About an hour later he called again, this time in his car. He was waiting for his parents as they were travelling to see family for a special event. He looked jaw-droppingly good. I asked to see what he was wearing and he panned out, a little reluctantly.

I told him he looked delicious, and he said he’d brought the blazer jacket I had bought him some time ago.

“Is that the jumper I bought you too?”

“Yes,” as he moved the camera to show me again and I glimpsed the ring I made him and the watch I bought.

“Baby! It’s like I’m there with you!”

He smiled shyly and looked to the side – the gesture he makes when he’s showing his true emotions. He laughed a little, and showed me his footwear – which I’d also bought him. 😍

“Oh baby, I’m there with you, hugging you with the jacket and jumper and ring and watch and the shoes!”

We both laughed and smiled at each other and then his parents got into the car.

As we ended the call, I thought about the fact that today, he had surrounded himself with many the things I have bought for him over the past three years. He didn’t need to – he has other things he could wear that I haven’t bought. But he chose to.

Now, I’m just happy. 🥰

Balance reminders

I’ve taken a shower today. That’s a positive. Don’t take showers for granted: at your lowest, even taking a shower is too much.

Other than that, not a great day.

I didn’t sleep well. Minor issues with Wildcard played – and continue to play – with my head.

I woke to an email from work with a date to see Occupational Health next week. Considering I only sent in my sick note yesterday, I felt this was very quick. I sunk lower in to that dark pit and have struggled to get out of it since.

Why would anyone think I want to talk about how I feel about my work, my life, to a medical professional who is being paid by my employer? Maybe that is paranoia or narrow thinking. Either way, the thought of doing so fills me with complete and shuddering anxiety.

*****

I’m writing a few hours after the above.

I’ve spoken to my union who have given me some reassurance about the OH appointment. I feel a little better.

I have unfortunately, had another issue with Wildcard. I don’t know what to think. My catastrophising brain thinks that maybe, these recent problems are heading for the end.

We’ve had a few challenging weeks. My negative and anxious mindset about my job have caused issues between me and him. He’s forgiven me each time but no one can be naive enough to think that is the end of it. It tips the balance just a little the wrong way.

What with that, and the more recent issues, worried he’s beginning to think I am too much. Not worth it.

I’ve got another major issue going on with my son which I haven’t mentioned yet here. It started at the weekend.

In both cases – my situation at work and with my son – cultural and language barriers are preventing me from explaining to Wildcard well, and him from understanding well.

I’ve tried.

I know what some of you are thinking – if he can’t stand by you now, then he’s not the right person etc etc.

Truth is, how long should a person have to stand by you? Why should they suffer because you are?

If he walks away, any semblance of happiness I have will go. I will implode. But, I can’t blame him. I can’t. He’s under no obligation. We are not married. Maybe, I have just become too much. I love him so much that I should not be a source of unhappiness for him. Even if it destroys what’s left of me in the process.

I’m sat in my wilderness, cold and shivering.

I’ve made myself get out of my bed.

My daughter has pointed out that I’ve done all I can in each and every situation of my life that’s causing my stress. Despite the hours in bed and my overall anxiety, I have actively tried to find solutions and help for all of them. It was a positive reminder.

I will hold on to that.

Positive v negative

“Well son, I’m afraid life doesn’t work like that. You will have problems every day and you have to learn to deal with them.”

Oh yes.

My parent-wisdom words, no doubt regurgitated from hearing them myself as a child.

Is it wisdom though? Am I teaching resilience there or perpetuating negative thinking? As in, they’re not problems but a natural part of day to day life?

April has been a ‘problematic’ month for me.

I came home from seeing Wildcard, exhausted after travel and heart ache, and threw myself into work. Then a moroseness swept over me. And flu. So my solution was to stay in bed for four days. Yes I was ill, but equally I was down.

I got better, but within a week I was ill again. The annual, ‘Is it hay-fever, is it a summer cold’ debate resulted in a fever induced covid test which of course, turned out positive.

I’m grateful I didn’t have it as bad as some. But it was bad enough, despite my three vaccines. Head cold, fever, tight chest, aching limbs and neck, cough and absolute fatigue. As the days went on, a temporary well feeling would be quickly met with a need to go back to bed. My re-test only became negative after 8 days, and whilst I could have followed ‘Government’ guidelines after 5 days to return to work, as I am sure they are banking on, I couldn’t face going and infecting someone else.

Unfortunately, morals don’t always pay and I will be missing a week’s wage in what will already be a tight month. I will survive. And that is positive thinking for you. Or possibly sheer dumb avoidance. I can’t change the situation either way and it could be worse. Maybe karma will send me some better luck.

Of course, positive thinking doesn’t immediately help my daughter when she has been ‘dumped’ by another 18 years old who has decided after months of sweet talk and pursuit that he doesn’t want a relationship. It doesn’t help my son who is still waiting for his ASD diagnosis or not as the case may be. In these situations, a dose a negative actually does the world of good – in life, it seems that things always be a lot worse more often than a lot better.

This is my current and forced train of thought over the booked but no longer required trip to see Wildcard in the May Half term. As both sisters and my daughter are away themselves, there is no one to house and pet sit. I haven’t really got the money to pay for train tickets and a hotel and Wildcard didn’t even know I’d booked and nor has he asked if I am going. So, I’m not.

No, I haven’t yet tried to move the tickets and yes, I have longingly looked at my flights and train ticket prices. But it’s impossible at the moment so I need to just get over it.

On the plus side, one of his brothers is finally going over after three years (covid) and as this was one of the stipulations for Wildcard deciding that he is ready to let his parents fend for themselves so he can marry me, I guess this is another occasion for trying to see the positive side.