Trip 7, Day nine and home

I found it really hard to get to sleep, despite his love and care on our last night.

I woke at 4am. Someone had gone to the bathroom and (I say this with absolutely no shame) thinking it was Wildcard, purposefully got up to go myself.

I was correct and rewarded with him coming to sleep with me. We held each other for the remaining hours of the night, and he reached for my hand in our embrace, every part of us locked together. Precious moments.

When we heard his parents stirring at 6am, he snuck out, a bemused look on his face as he made the dash out the door. I think we’d both be stupid to think his parents don’t suspect or know we are intimate. He is certainly much more careful about rules when his Dad is around though.

I finished packing then went out to the lounge to sit with him. I choked down a breakfast I had no stomach to eat then went back to my room. He didn’t follow.

Agter a time, I went back out and he was in his place on the couch. This time, he opened his arm and beckoned me to lie next to him, not at his feet end as normal.

I know he was concerned with my silence and my occasional tears. I can’t help it.

At 7.30am, we both got up to get changed and he hugged and kissed me through my tears, reminding me that this was not the last time we would see each other. I, unfortunately, know only too well that no one knows what life is in store.

By the time we had got to the airport, his emotional armour was back on. Whilst not cold, his demeanour had changed. He was beinf positive, keeping it together. He told me he loved me, again, out loud and to my face. This has been one of the major developments of this trip. He always messages it, says it on the phone at the end of a call, but I can count only maybe two times previously – and likely only one – where he has actually said it to my face. This trip, he’s said it many times.

I feel numb. Dead inside. I can’t even tell you that my mind is working overdrive, because it’s not. I do think however that I have much to discuss with my counsellor. As before, my emotions have swung like a pendulum. It needs to be sorted. I need clarity, not excessive thinking and overpowering emotions.

As suggested by my Facebook Bestie, I have written him a letter. It’s short and to the point: thanks him for his love, shares my own; apologises for the crying but suggests I may cry less if I knew when I was next going; reiterated my career advice but also said that I wished we had talked about our future too. I hid the letter in a pile of my drawings in his room but told him about it on the way. I wonder if he can understand my writing, never mind its language.

****

It’s now early Monday morning and I’m home. I got home late – 13 hours of travelling in the end.

I spent most of the journey home thinking of him. I always do. I guess Tolle would call that living in the past. Would he accept my reason for it? Because in that moment, reliving it- replaying moments of it over and over again – that’s what kept me together. Music on, I stared at the passing trees, fields…life, and in my mind I was back with him and those soft kisses and the feel of his hand in mine.

The word ‘missing’ isn’t enough.

He called me a few times and I just felt overjoyed at seeing him. This time yesterday I was still with him.

Will he feel it this morning too? The sense of feeling like you’ve put on an old pair of slippers – back to your normal life, whilst your heart yearns for what is missing.

Yes, maybe yearning is the better word.

Will he regret that I am not there this morning, turning to see him as he opens the door, hair dishevelled? Will he wish that he was sliding in to bed to kiss me, before wrapping his arms and legs around me, and just holding me. Making me feel so safe and warm and loved. Will he miss that too?

Will he yearn and long for me, as I am for him?

Nothing else seems important. All I want is him.

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Trip 7, Day eight

Last night we argued. It removed a fear that has plagued me for 3 years. It was uncomfortable for a little while but we soon were back to normal.

What we didn’t talk about, and I wish I had, was a conversation about the future which he brought up. He was talking about his career prospects and asking my opinion, telling me I was the only one he could talk to.

That I loved, and I was objective as I could be. I told him that thinking about doing something was often worse than the doing. He’d told me that he hated making decisions and hated change. Don’t I know it.

What I didn’t love was that I was not one of the options we discussed. Granted, we were talking career, but some of the options mentioned would not encourage him to come to me any sooner. It was like a hot knife of pain in my chest. What does Tolle say? Don’t focus on the future. Really hard not to when you desired future seems to have dismissed you some what.

Short conclusion to that: I couldn’t look him in the face and brought up something else as an excuse for my behaviour which then caused the disagreement. Great stuff.

This morning, despite all being well by bed time (he locked me to him on the sofa and wouldn’t let me go until late), he didn’t come to me. Which was really unfortunate, as I’d had a bad dream, woke up knowing it was the last day and we’d had that dusagreement…I needed those morning embraces more than anything. I didn’t get them. He had to rush to work.

This afternoon there have been plenty of hugs. My mind is on overdrive, though. I’m trying to Tolle it out but it’s not working so well.

****

It’s now midnight.

It’s been a weird day of high emotion. I suppose that isn’t surprising. We cuddled for most of the day. I was bored and frustrated a little but it was more about being uncomfortable about leaving than anything else. Again, digging deep to the real feelings is helping.

After dinner, I lay on the bed. I was putting off packing my case and even now it’s barely done. He’d been washing something but came in and shut the door.

We lay on the bed, hugging and then had sweet sweet kisses – real kisses. The kisses he won’t give me often because they always lead to something. Which they did. It was beautiful, connected love making which was so special. It was tender and loving and a moment I will never forget.

We showered and then relaxed some more. It was a weird evening in some ways as I was so on edge. I got jealous over something he showed me which is nothing new. He annoyed me when he wouldn’t answer a question which he had asked me earlier and I had answered, but at least it made me leave him to half pack.

When I came back, I put my back to him it what can only be called a childish move. He tapped my shoulder to show me something on his phone and told me if I followed the instructions, I would see someone who loved me. It was one of those trick of the eye things and yes, weirdly, it did look like him. He was quickly forgiven after that romantic gesture.

We drank tea and then a programme came on which we all began to watch. Luckily for me there were French subtitles and my A level French came in useful a little as I was able to understand quite a bit. It was funny and his mother watched it with us. Wildcard told me what was going on too which helped.

What I loved was the way he sat with me. Normally, he lies on the sofa, head at the corner, and I sit feet end. His feet are often in my lap and I love it as it feels intimate without breaking cultural protocol. But this time he moved so he was sat right next to me, leaning on the same cushion. Respect means we couldn’t be too close but I’d argue that we broke that a little. It was, again, a romantic gesture and another moment I won’t forget.

As soon as it finished and his mum left, he tickled me senseless. Then after tidying up, time for bed.

As always, he came in to check on me and ask if I needed anything and to say goodnight. His kisses and hugs were lovely. And when he walked away, quickly came back when he sensed my tears.

And here I am. In the queue, waiting for the plane. Trip 7 is practically over: just a flight and a few train journeys then I’m home.

Trip 7, Day seven

Last night, a thunderstorm clouded the sky and sent beautifully dramatic streaks of lightning across the sky. I don’t know whether it’s because I was on the third floor or because there is less light pollution here or even the fact there are less trees than home, but the sky was spectacular. And for once it wasn’t me making a storm.

I didn’t wake at a silly hour this morning either but that’s often the way when I’m here. It seems to take me quite a few days to settle- in every sense of the word. That’s part of the reason that a week never seems enough. Or maybe it’s the long gap in between. I’m not sure.

I woke at gone 7am. I washed and went back to bed. I could have fallen back to sleep but I’m conscious in a few days I will be back to work… I can hardly believe it.

I felt morose this morning. One of the things my reading has taught me, and I’m working on, is taking time to scan your body. Where are the feels? What emotion is creating them? Today’s moroseness is not something self-imposed from my overactive and demanding mind. No, It’s just genuine sadness that my time here is coming to an end. I can say that with all confidence because I’m beginning to see how true sadness feels different to the imposed sadness of my mind.

This morning’s kisses were firm and loving and repeated. I think he’s feeling it too.

We had our usual morning routine of bed and hugs and phone but when I tried to move away, he pulled my face back down to his chest. So I happily complied. There were more kisses from him too, snatched between videos. And then he showered my face with kisses like a firework going off – sparks of lips and beard all over my face. He told me after that I was to no longer as for kisses as he was now in credit by a thousand.

I can’t explain the pure joy that emanates from my solar plexus when he comes home. I feel like my whole world lights up when I see his face, and hear his voice.

In the evening, he took me out to a cafe – the one he took me to that very first night I came here, over three years ago. Unfortunately, it didn’t go as well this time.

Trip 7, Day six

It's actually the morning of Day Six now. Last night I struggled to finish this post and I'm still struggling now. 

I trying to be positive. I'm trying to not dwell on the negative, on my fears and insecurities. 

It all seems heightened here. I think because I have nothing else to do, nothing else to consume my time but thoughts of him. I'm over-analysing everything: taking the temperature of his love so frequently that the readings are false and confusing. So is the love life of an anxious person, I guess. 

I am relaxed. I am happy. But I'm also unsettled still, a thread of doubts running through my day. I'm looking for my voice in all this, like my counsellor told me, but I can't find her at all. 

²There are so many voices in my head. Some tell me he doesn't love me enough. Some say he's not making an effort. Some say this is real life, every day. Some say I should live in the now and enjoy every second: this is what I long for when I am at home, just to be with him. Some say my expectations and romantic inclinations are too high. Some say he has shown his love and care again and again.  Some say he will never love me like I love him, and I should walk away. 

I don't know how to find my voice. I don't know how to find the truth. And I hate myself for it. I hate my negativity. I hate my indecision and overthinking. I hate that I may, once again, be ruining something wonderful. But I also hate the idea that I may be living a lie, wishing and waiting for something that will never be. Most of all, I hate that my head is full and I can't see the truth for all the noise. 

So, that was this morning, early – before he’d come in.

I sensed there I was spiralling and so I got out Tolle and went straight to the relationship part:

“The Power of Now”

Everything he said there is so true. Wildcard is not abusive or unkind or disloyal. Whilst no one is perfect and yes, he makes minor mistakes, it’s my own needs that are causing the issues.

A way that’s helped me see this, is by really thinking about my triggers and how this links to the bigger picture. What I get upset with him for is usually a bigger indication of my own internal demons than his. A sobering thought.

So I was a little surprised when he came in so early – I was still reading. He came to bed, wrapped his arm around me, and the phone came out as usual. But I was ok with it. I focused on his body being near mine and how wonderful that was. Before long, the phone was away, and he held me as he fell asleep again, and I loved every second. Appreciated every second.

On this high, I continued to read today, finishing Tolle and starting on “Homecoming”. I felt wonderful joy after completing the book and look forward to similar with Bryant’s work.

I feel like my brighter outlook was rewarded as he actually managed to come home early! We spent a relaxing afternoon, laughed and ate a good dinner. He tickled me until I screamed with laughter and then made beautiful love to me . And in a way, I felt like I’d been rewarded by letting my light shine – by dismissing the negative, he was able to shine also.

Does that make sense?

Trip 7, Day four

It’s been a lazy day today.

Wildcard has been working all day, and working until late. I missed him to the depths of my core and kept checking the clock until he was home.

Unfortunately,  he’s told me that he will have to work these hours for the next couple of days. That’s a real disappointment. He told me that he was arguing with his colleague about it this morning. There’s nothing to be done however. It is what it is. His colleague proclaims that Wildcard didn’t specify he was also busy in the week, just the weekends. Wildcard feels he knew he was busy.

Either way, long days without him. If I was feeling negative, I could say that it is actually easier with an ocean between us. But I’m being positive. So I will be grateful for my mornings and my evenings.

The hard part is knowing what to do with myself when he gets home.

He always comes over for a kiss: pressing his lips to mine firmly,  holding the touch just long enough. In that exact moment, I’m satisfied. And then he pulls away.

Oh I’m so demanding! And yet I try so hard not to be. I’m laughing internally at the audacity of myself and my expectations. No, that’s not right – I don’t expect it. I long for it.

I just want him near. But he’s an adult human being- he’s been in work all day. He goes about his evening like any other working man: gets changed and washed, lies on the couch to relax whilst he waits for dinner.

And I understand that. I give him space. I sit a little way from him and he plays his game or watches something and I just wait. I tell myself, “this is real life honey, not some fairytale”. But the yearning I have inside, just to be close and touching! It’s not even desire for sex although I can’t pretend it isn’t that either. It’s just desire for him. I just want him and feel so dissatisfied as I sit and wait my turn in what is a completely acceptable and normal situation. I know that I’m being unreasonable, but I can’t help myself.

Because I start to feel frustrated. I start thinking stupid things. And the longer the status quo continues, the more stupid my mind gets. I’ve learnt that this simple, normal situation triggers something in me. And if I’m not careful, those thoughts and fears dominate my mind and my emotions erupt.

As I am trying to be a positive being, I will say this. I am fighting it and working on it. I am conscious of it and the unreasonable nature of my feelings. And so this time, whilst I can’t pretend those feelings don’t exist, they have been more under control than in the previous trips.

After a little while, I got up to take my medicine. Within minutes, he had followed me.

Trip 7, Day three

I’m sat at the window of Wildcard’s apartment. The window is open and so I am getting to experience every sensation of being in his country. 1 I can feel the breeze on my skin. I can smell the spicy-dustyness of his country, and the smell of food cooking from the restaurant far below. I can hear cars and the sounds of a language I can no longer describe as foreign, even though I don’t understand it. People mill about outside, wearing their traditional dress, and the cafe over the road is slowly getting busier.

It feels like home.

Yesterday was a beautiful, loved-filled day of relaxing and sleeping and intimacy and laughing. I could see and hear and feel his love for me. It’s as real as the phone I’m currently holding in my hands.

This morning, he came to me as always – my favourite time of the day. He held me in the early morning light and I soaked in every sensation of being close to him – his breath on my neck; the prickle-tickle of his beard on my skin; all the parts of our body which were pressed together; the rhythmic sound of his breath as he dozed.

Apparently last night he had bad dreams of being chased by dogs. I don’t even want to begin to analyse that.

And that is a key component of this trip, and even bigger than that, my recovery/rediscovery. I’m not going to think.

My mum recently cast some doubt on to the effectiveness of my counsellor. She said I shouldn’t be feeling quite as bad as I have been. I think the counsellor is helping. I feel a purge but as with any wound, even when the badness is out of it, it needs to heal. What she’s not so great at doing is giving me strategies. When I asked her how to be more positive, how to turn down the noise of other voices in my head, her reply was “you’ll have to keep trying things – perhaps the self-help books you are reading?”

I think this is her youth and inexperience coming through. My deep seated issues are probably more than she’s dealt with and she’s learning. I am not criticising her. Maybe by having this experience, she too will grow. But, I went to her for help therefore, I’ve got to do something. I’ve got to keep trying.

So, on my trip, I have brought Eckhart Tolle’s “Practising The Power of Now” with me and I plan to read some every day. I also downloaded a couple of Mel Robbins’ podcasts to listen to on the flight.

One of them…wow. I listened with eager anticipation and even made notes. As it ended, I felt tears come to my eyes. It was as if that podcast was written just for me.

Mel’s guest was a renowned Psychologist Dr Thema Bryant, and her book is called Homecoming. And joy of joys, I’ve just discovered when trying to find out how to spell her name, that her book is currently free on audible as part of a month’s free trial.

Everything she described – that feeling of being lost and disconnected – summed up how I feel. And her advice was simple yet astounding. I can’t wait to listen to the rest.

But, to put it simply, I’m just not thinking. I’m being present, enjoying the now, this moment with no expectation and no fear.

Mel Robbin’s newsletter today was equally good. She has promoted the theory of ‘Let them’. This links in with everything Bryant and Tolle appear to be saying: we live our own lives, our own existence and sense of Being. We can’t demand it all our own way, all the time.

With all this, so far – and dare I say it – Day 3 wobbles are not even a hint of a threat at present.

Wish me luck.

Trip 7, Day one (and two) – the positive one

And so, following on from my last post, here’s to positivity!

I arrived in London safely. Unfortunately, despite my scouring, I hadn’t really found anything wanted to do in the free time I had.

Yes yes, that sounds a bit weird since I was visiting the capital. But most of the tourist places I wanted to go to would have been unavailable by the time I arrived, and the rest I wanted to visit when I had my children with me.

So, instead, I braved a new, previously unexplored underground route and went to Oxford Circus and to one of the major shopping streets in London:

And whilst you could argue that most of these shops are also up north, the fact that I braved them and wandered around on my own in what I can only describe as a stampede, well I think I should be praised. So, well done me.

I bought nothing. Ah well.

I contemplated eating somewhere but everywhere was so busy…gluten…nah.

I headed back to the underground and made my way to the hotel.

It’s amazing how confident I now am with this. I remember my first trip to London 10 years ago, feeling totally lost and bewildered by the underground. Whilst it’s definitely true that manners down here are different to those up north, its not as bad as I once imagined. Whilst one slightly crazed Londoner was ranting all over the train, another caught my eye from the other end of the train, rolled his eyes, and smiled at me .

It’s 3.48am. I had planned to wake at 4am but it turns out that I wasn’t able to do that.

Premier Inn has the most amazingly comfortable beds so it wasn’t anything to do with that – you know me, I can’t sleep when I have stuff on my mind.

I’m aiming to be at the airport for 5am in the hope that I have a smooth check in before my 7am flight.

*****

5.54am and I’m now sat in the lounge, waiting for my gate number.

Security was a bit hairy – I can’t believe how busy it was! – as my suitcase was checked for the first time. As I waited my turn, I wracked my brain, thinking what I could possibly have left in my suitcase: I’m a seasoned pro now! In the end, it was the gluten free flour. In 3.5 years, it’s the first time someone has checked it.

I’m feeling the first fluttering of nerves and excitement and anticipation.  Would you think me weird if I told you that I’m trying not to think of him?

I’m now sat on the plane, waiting to taxi to the runway. The butterflies are now a full ballet troup pirrouetting in my stomach.

*****

My first day was just…wonderful.

From holding my hand in the car whilst waiting for his parents, to kisses and affection and hugs, to flirting and passionate intimacy: he’s shown me that he has missed me and loves me.

Happy happy day.

Turning back the page

Look at my beautiful cat 😍. I will explain why I have posted a picture of him, momentarily. (And yes, that is a black cat Halloween sticker, in memory of my other cat who recently died 😢)

I’ve had a strange afternoon. Strange, because I don’t really have another word to explain how I feel right now.

The past 36 hours I came down with stomach flu. I spent most of Tuesday night being sick, Wednesday I slept and then was just on the couch with no energy and aching all over.

This morning, I felt weak and achy. By lunch time I had finally eaten some homemade soup, had showered and felt a little better.

My house was clean (enough), washing was on the line and I didn’t feel well enough to do anything else strenuous.

I’d had some errant thoughts, as you sometimes do when you lie around with nothing to do. I’d thought about what I’d said in my birthday post, about not being able to have Wildcard’s baby. Whilst the passing of one day probably hasn’t made much of a difference, it marked the passing of a deadline I’d given myself.

And, of course, as is often the way, this thought then cascaded into so many others. I wanted answers, insight. And it resulted in me deciding to read my journal- my blog, right from the beginning. Whilst I’d re-read my time with Wildcard some months ago, I’ve never gone back to the beginning.

I started writing on WordPress the day my marriage ended in 2016.

It’s been an amazing read. And I’m not talking about the quality of my writing here, I’m talking about my life.

There were posts I remembered that I thought I had written much more recently. That was weird. There were many posts where I barely recognised myself. There were posts which described a life I haven’t lived for a very long time (Covid??).

But what a life. I always feel bad saying this, because I know my life is so much better than some people have to deal with. But my life has been tough.

I read about the end of my marriage and how, despite knowing it was the right decision, my grief in the months that followed. The beginning of a depression which fluctuated over a year and then ended in 2017 with my breakdown/burnout. I hadn’t realised it had started so long before that. The burnout I remember, vividly. There is a post where I document just sitting and staring out the window each morning, just me and my coffee and my cat (yup, that beauty up there ❤️ who helped me through it all. I’d forgotten.)

I read through my slow recovery and my gradual return to a workplace which- I can see now – had become toxic in my absence. And then my Dad’s slow decline and death months later.

Then grief, grief, grief.

There are many tales of Lost Soul. My goodness. I can see why I am so anxious in love now, I really can. It’s no wonder! Everything I went through – and I can’t say ‘what he put me through’ – because I went beyond my better judgement every time and allowed it.

Slowly, slowly, in 2019, you start to see me returning – my grief settling, my infatuation with Lost Soul burnt out, my depression subdued. And then I meet Wildcard.

I stopped reading at that point. Mainly because my eldest son has now started vomiting 🤢.

I feel…so sorry for myself and yet so proud. When you’re living through it, hard as it was, you don’t see the interconnectivity of things. How quickly my grief over the end of my marriage and struggling as a full time working mum with work issues, met the devastation of a rapidly declining Dad. Betrayals in love, betrayals in friendships. It’s no wonder I’ve been how I am, no wonder at all.

There is beauty there too. I saw just how much I tried to do. I was a good mum, even when I thought I wasn’t. I was a good mum through those years of no support from my ex, and with my Dad being ill in this house. I did my best, I really did.

I saw the real self depreciation. Post after post about my weight. Whilst it’s true, I’m nearly 5 stone lighter than that now (and have no wish to get back there), the self hatred is hard to take.

The following was particularly poignant:

To be honest, in just writing this I have summed up the cause of all that I am feeling. There is no time in my life where I don’t feel pressured by outside influences; my roles as mother, daughter, sister, homeowner, teacher. I need to unpick all this, refine and define my roles and carve out a new role as caretaker for ME. That is the one area I am truly failing at, not the others like I believe. I need to keep telling myself that. My one, and only one, failure in my life so far is not caring for myself.

If I have done one thing this past few years, unbeknownst to myself or not, I have battled this. I still do. I don’t feel the pressures so much as the guilt when I neglect one or other but im working on it. Something to unpick with my new counsellor, I think.

I’ve realised something else too. I’m not as bad now as I have been. There is a fight in me that wasn’t there before. My depression never really left me, I think. But I have learnt to fight it and knowingly too now, want to defeat it for good.

This evening, I’ve had laughter with Wildcard (amongst trips upstairs with sick bags for my son.) I feel a certain peace.

Yes, it’s important to look back. For those of you whose blog serves as a journal: I strongly recommend it.

And for those few on here that have stuck by me through all this: thank you. 😊

Magnetic force

Sometimes,
I need you.
But know,
This is not 
A state of mind. 
No,
It's a pull,
A force,
From deep inside.
Like the iron in my blood,
 in my heart,
In the centre of my being
Is drawn to you.
There's no relief
No calm
No peace
Until you are near,
Because even when 
You are far away,
My heart searches for you. 

Fallacy

The warmth of the sun is caressing my neck, even though my hands are cold. If I block out the near sound of a Fortnite game, I can hear song birds and the throaty call of a pigeon or the whistle of their wings as they flap to the next branch.

In literature, pathetic fallacy is where the weather replicates the tone or action of the storyline. Think, heavy rain at a funeral or thunder storm as a malevolent force rises. 

The weather is pretty much summing up my relationship right now. There has been a marginal improvement in his mood: the sun is shining but it is still cold.

I’m trying to ignore it. Yesterday I put makeup on, threw on some feel good clothes and went shopping. I smiled. I sent him love. It was thrown back in my face every time. In fact, if he says thank you once more im response to my ‘I love you’s I might just scream. Fake it until you make it? No. Fake it until it wears you down.

As I often do, I’ve scoured the net looking for ideas, advice, support … something. This love withholding is apparently toxic/abusive/avoidant, depending on which website you read. Maybe it is all three.

Attachment style advice varies from ‘talk about it’ (are they kidding?) To ‘walk away, this will never improve’. Some sites talk about the avoidant with some sympathy: they want love desperately, but are fearful of it. So, what I’m seeing here is hurt and fear. He’s withdrawn to protect himself.

I’ve had no direct accusation. That is, he has not articulated exactly what I’ve done or what he suspects me of. I do know what started it, of course.

I also know that I have an anxious attachment style. I’ve learnt that it is very common for an anxious and avoidant to get together: they compliment each other, apparently, although not in a positive way. It’s a self-perpetuating cycle: one avoids, the other is anxious so chases. The avoidant stays because, actually, they don’t want the anxious to go anywhere even though they don’t want them too close either. A secure would just walk away, making the avoidant well, more avoidant. Unless, walking away is what makes the avoidant finally commit.

As a lot of this theory comes from psychological research ( and I’m currently living it), some this is undoubtedly true. However, type this in a search engine and you will get a raft of webpages spinning their own interpretation, many of which have no medical or official expertise. Social media labels pretty much everyone as ‘toxic’ or a ‘narcissist’ or whatever the current antagonist buzz word is.

Here’s what I know. His current behaviour is triggering my anxiety and it physically hurts. Last night I cracked. He saw I cracked. Whilst on the phone, he did nothing to console me or reassure me. That’s pretty messed up. But immediately after we ended the call, he sent me messages of love.

Today, his tone has warmed like the UK’s blue skies, but he’s still cold. Nonetheless, when I see all my drawings still proudly on display on his dresser; when I see him wearing his rings; when I know that he still wants me near with every call, no matter how hurt he is, I feel a little better.

Esther Perel states that “The cycle of connection, disconnection, and reconnection exists in every relationship. Terry Real calls it “harmony, disharmony, and repair” or “closeness, disruption, and a return to closeness.” “. She mentions how repair could be an angry silent husband still making his wife a cup of tea. Or, in this case, a sullen boyfriend still calling every day.

What I believe- what I have always believed – is that real, lasting love comes from knowing and accepting our partner’s flaws. It’s as simple as that. Pretending to accept them only leads to problems in the future. Thinking that one day you will change them is similarly problem-laden. Yes, some people change in time- a good relationship will bring two people together in harmony, but only when they have both whole heartedly accepted the other’s flaws in the first place.

I don’t know what is going to happen in the future. I know my anxious attachment is causing issues and that reading self help can create anxiety as well as soothing it, if it is from the wrong source. I also know there are women out there who would definitely not put up with his behaviour.

I know that I love him, still, flaws and all. I know that something like this happens every year. I know that behaviour like this is few and far between, but enough to hurt. I know that I’m not Perfect either.

There are signs of repair and reconnection. And whilst that is what we both want, I’m happy with that.