Therapy journey 

Today was therapy. I had a lot to process and discuss. I’ve kept myself so busy and not talked to anyone about what’s really going on for me. So this time is crucial to be real with myself and verbalise the tumble dryer of thoughts going around in my head.

I discussed the horrific nightmares, and my fears and loneliness surrounding that. I discussed how difficult it is, trying to initiate conversation with S. He’s always wanting to throw the past as me, repeat all of my mistakes, vent his frustrations at me. I understand he’s hurting, but it means there is no way to move forward in our conversation. To find an amicable solution or better ways to communicate.

I discussed my speech at the marae, the raw honesty of it that surprised me.

I discussed how my friends are encouraging this move with enthusiasm but don’t seem to relate to how much of a transition this is.

I talked about my frustrations of the court case in the UK. How I haven’t really processed everything that happened and my disappointment.

It all feels like so many different branches are growing a life of their own, throw in the daily challenges of life in general and I’m struggling to make sense of everything.

Suffice to say, in the space of an hour I pretty much just talked at the therapist. Desperate to get everything out like a huge inhaled breath had been released. 

In talking like this I felt numb. And still do. Processing it will come in the following days. 

Tomorrow I have psychodrama again. Then assertiveness the following evening. All in my quest to find new knowledge about myself and find a way to heal and be stronger.

I’m concerned that the nightmares are my mind trying to make sense of everything but I can’t sit with the emotions that arise from it. It’s too painful at the moment. 

This is usually where I’d come to rely on S for answers. For comfort and understanding. But as he’s not there for me, I’m scared. I don’t know what else to do.

Perhaps I am a far weaker person than I realised.

I’m taking huge comfort in my children. Enjoying their chaos and life. Their unconditional love and beaming enthusiasm for life.

But another part of me is empty and desperate to make sense of things. My therapist calls it the transition. She tells me to expect pain, loneliness, anxiety, fear, uncertainty. She tells me that the relationship I have with S is confusing, but can’t be defined because that’s all transitioning. 

I’m the sort of person that likes objectives and quantifiable output. This ambiguous ‘transitioning’ makes me feel out of control and unsafe. I feel vulnerable and I do know that in that is growth. But that doesn’t mean I like it! It doesn’t mean I don’t want it to stop.

I’m always on this mission to grow stronger and learn more. I want to be honest with myself. I want to be real in my journey.

But frankly, I’m so tired. I want to be scooped up and told its all going to be ok.

I want to be nurtured and kept safe from the pain of my life. But the truth is, only I can do that for myself.

Everything around me is fine sand falling through my fingertips. Hope is scarce and I wonder where and what my respite will be.

Why does life’s journey have to be so hard?


House warming and performance

Last night I had some close friends around for drinks and to see my new house. My friend made me this awesome cake 


I really enjoyed catching up with my friends and their warmth and love of my house, the support and kinship 

But something still felt ’empty.’ I drank to excess and people left in the early hours of the morning. It was fun. Different for me.

But that night I felt so lonely. I cried and couldn’t sleep despite the tiredness. I missed my kids painfully, I missed Friday night with them. I miss hanging out with S watching tv, getting take out.

I’m taking steps to embrace my new life and subsequent journey but nothing feels natural. I feel like a big part of my life is missing.

This morning I suspected I was still over the limit to drive. So it was an impatient wait while I tidied up, tried to catch up on emails. Finally when I felt more ‘with it’ aside from a painful headache, I headed up to the house. I literally couldn’t wait to be part of my family again. Hear the noise, the chaos, the warmth. Even just to be back with S. To laugh with him and feel normal.

This evening the kids performed a play for us. J on music, H and Egg performers. It was an absolute joy


Family time. So precious to me. I tried to talk with S, but he was quick to shut me down. He’s stand offish as usual, seems to have no regard for me. I miss his love and tenderness. I have no desire to date other men or even bother checking out guys. I’m so familiar with S, anything else wouldn’t match.

I’m staying over here tonight. I know, I’m not helping myself. In fact I’m just dragging out the inevitable hurt. But I just miss my family. Simple. 

I don’t know what the next few months hold. I’m scared that it could be worse from now. 

I’m definitely going to pull back on the drinking. Not that I drink a lot, but when I do, it’s to excess. And I’m not in a place in my life right now where I can let my brain be scrambled with the effects of alcohol. I do stupid things, make stupid decisions. I don’t like it.

Im continuing with the psychodrama, it challenges me, my final workshop on assertiveness is Wednesday and then I do ‘resilience’ in its place. God knows I could do with some input there. And although I missed therapy last week, I’Ve booked an urgent one next week, Monday. So much is going on for me and I need the therapeutic process to help me through it. I’m feeling out of depth right now.

The speech

I spent today at a marae. I think I’m supposed to wax lyrical on the profound spiritual effect it had on me, mention the wisdom of the iwi, talk about my own insignificance in the face of strong whakapapa and a struggle to regain acceptance in society.  Probably I did feel those things at some point. But mostly I was just bored. I’m usually so open to new cultures, but I think that’s because it’s a choice. Today was thrust upon me as part of my course. In fact, it was expected we’d sleep in the marae, which gives you some sort ‘expert insight’ into the Maori culture. I don’t agree with that at all, sleeping in a stable doesn’t make you a horse. I’ve read about the Treaty of Waitangi and been to many cultural events. One night does not an expert make.

We did have to do presentations, named Who Am I. Basically a summary of life experiences, influences and belief systems.

If I had any doubt at all about my decision to quit counselling, then they were surely stamped out today. The people that spoke were long and boring. I know, who am I to judge? Blah blah. But someone’s most profound example of a life changing moment was camping for three days. And not Bear Gryllis style either on Everest. Just down at a local camp ground with food and drink provided. Hardly epic survival stuff that would make one face their own mortality or experience survival from eating bugs. People are so precious on this course. Their stories reflect a small, insular world. No one really inspired me, not just because no one ate bugs, but there was no passion. No spontaneity or lust for life. Frankly it was all a bit drab, made even more frustrating by the little clicky cheers and encouragement. I thought some might break into a cheerleading frenzy.

I put no planning into my speech, I just stood up and decided to wing it. I talked about my upbringing, how everything changed after the rape, the relationship that I was in that was violent, tumultuous at best. How my world view changed when I started to travel. How I met S, my kids, my beautiful boy that I attributed my current strength to and desperation to make him proud and not let him down.

It was a burst of unexpected raw honesty. Most people were shocked, they know me, but they had no idea. I didn’t feel anything when I spoke, or immediately after. I felt I’d done my contribution and that was it.

Later I saw S because I’d dropped my car at the auto electricians and he was taking me there. I guess the repressed hurt found its way to the surface and we argued about money. Another mud slinging, anger fueled argument. I left in tears.

I later text to apologise and explain my misdirected anger. I felt his response trivialised it and so the miscommunication via text continued.

I intended to get drunk tonight. Obliterate my feelings about S. The potential ramifications of sharing my story, the emotional fall out. But decided that drinking in this state would undoubtedly end badly.

Frankly I’m feeling overwhelmed by the whole thing. Telling my story like that to a bunch of strangers is unheard of. I felt a bit, dare I say, frustrated with some of the hypocrisy with the clash of cultures, basically, you don’t do this, but we can. And of course, the Maori people in the class were well respected by our hosts. But then, maybe it serves as a conscience reminder of how Maori have been historically treated by the Pakeha.

I’m at a loss with my relationship with S. If there can be a friendship. How he seems to care so little. How distant we are. He’d been so amazing after my nightmare. And maybe that’s the problem, I still rely on him to a large extent. And when I perceive him letting me down I get angry. When really he’s not doing anything differently. I’m the one that seeks him out. I’m the one that blames him and causes arguments.

I’ll be glad to get this bed situation sorted out. I’m desperate for my kids to stay here. I miss them terribly. I think it will help with the transition.

I’m on my own in this journey. And as my speech ended today,

My life has taken another direction. I never anticipated losing S. I’m hurting very deeply, but I’ve embarked on a new journey that I need to learn on. As I’m no longer confident in who I am. The one thing I know for sure is that I love my son more than anything. He’s my strength and I will continue to be the best mother I can be and provide a good example to him


Aftershock 

Yesterday I felt emotional and drained after my traumatic night. I came back the house to do the laundry and I was surprised to see S here. I ended up sobbing to him about how sad and scared I was. He gave me comfort, but there felt an ‘obligation’ to it. Not the warmth and concern as he’s displayed previously. As in, a long time ago. I tried to initiate conversation about how he was feeling and he ended up unleashing his tirade on me about everything being my fault. About my selfish needs and all of my mistakes. I tried to acknowledge his anger and resentment but I wanted some clarity on how he feels aside from his anger toward me. He shut down and I ended up feeling more unwelcome and upset.

I desperately needed sleep though and despite feeling his clear disdain of me, I wanted to sleep at the house. I fell asleep after crying again. I slept deeply for a few hours, no nightmares. And only awoke when S told me he was going to get the kids.

We had planned to rent a trailer and pick up a second bed for my house. I’m keen to have the kids over as soon as possible and was delighted with a bargain I’d found online.

We all left in the cold, wintry night. On arriving 40 mins later to the place the rain came down heavily. S had been unable to get a covered trailer. But I figured the bed could dry at my house.

I’ve pulled a trailer with a bed in before, in notoriously strong Wellington winds and had to take it really easy. S promised he was keeping an eye on the trailer. On the motorway he suddenly shouted that the mattress had gone. There was nothing to do, but me getting out with my torch and walking the side of a busy motorway at night  with freezing rain pouring down. I was anxious about someone swerving to avoid our mattress and have an accident so that’s what kept me focused.

Despite our best efforts, the mattress was gone. I think someone stopped and took it. There’s no other explanation. And what a great find! But I was terribly miserable. I felt the loss could have been avoided. I felt annoyed at the waste of money, and I felt annoyed that S hadn’t tried another service station to get a covered trailer. I have to worry about every last cent at the moment and to me id just lost money. Worse still, I lost the opportunity for the kids to stay over sooner.

It just added to my overall despair. 

I did spend the night at the house. I needed to be around my children. I needed the affection and noise, the chaos that comes as being part of a family. And I needed to feel that I wasn’t alone.

I took a sleeping tablet and fell deeply into sleep. No nightmares, and this morning I had wonderful long cuddles with my boy as we curled up and lay in together.

I’ve been avoiding contact with my friends, not using social media, and forwarding my calls. I feel like no one understands what I’m going through. I feel like I can’t fake enthusiasm and interest. I don’t want to hear cliches and I don’t want reminding that S doesn’t care about me and he doesn’t have to, as my friends like to point out. No one I know has separated/divorced with children in the mix. And I’m sure no one has been as close to their partner as S and I were. 

Today I feel a bit detached and disassociated. I’m trying to be ‘present’ and feel but I am  just overwhelmed.

And yes, I’m failing with my move and adjustment.

Work is quiet and study has stopped until the second trimester in July.

Tonight I’m going to a psychodrama workshop. I hear it’s very helpful and I’m willing to try anything.

So at the moment I’m free falling. It’s fast, it’s terrifying, disorientating and lonely. I have no safety net, no one to reach out to. But if I don’t carry on putting foot in front of the other, I’m scared I’ll stop. I’m scare I’ll lose all hope and I’m scared I won’t get up again. I’m running on fear and anxiety and I don’t know when I’ll ever have a sense of normality.

Torturous night

Last night is the worst night I’ve had in a long time. I’m feeling groggy and dizzy but I need to write it out because I’m worried about my sanity and I don’t want to call on friends.

I couldn’t sleep for ages, even though I was tired. I cried on and off and surfed the web to waste time. After 1am, I thought I better try, I was plunged into sickening nightmares. Graphic and violent. I was a child in these dreams, vulnerable and terrified. I woke up in a panic attack. I felt really scared and vulnerable. I checked the time, surely it must be getting towards morning and the light will come to reassure me? It was 1.45! I couldn’t believe this powerful, debilitating nightmare that felt long could only last for half an hour!

I went to the loo, took some diazapam, tended to the fire and tried to get back to sleep. I felt restless but too afraid to take a walk. When sleep finally came I was thrust again in nightmares, painful and terrifying. Abuse, neglect, fear. I awoke in a panic, twisted, damp sheets. For a moment I worried I’d wet the bed. I stumbled to the loo, slightly disorientated. In my blundering state, tended to the fire again. It felt bitterly cold. But I couldn’t stand to have a shower, I felt I’d be vulnerable.

3am, lying in bed. Emotional, exhausted, terrified of my own mind. Feeling painfully alone, unsure of myself, suffocated by the never ending night.

Finally giving into the lure of sleep. And thrust back to a medley of terrifying nightmares. My mind reaching for something. Recreating my history, seemingly checking every corner of my mind, reliving but with a twisted abstract feel. Me, young again. No control. The dream being my reality. Seemingly lasting for hours.

4.30, bedsheets soaked. Disorientated. Dizzy with tiredness and a shortness of breath as though I’d been running. Acid in my throat. Feeling so sick, feeling alone and confused. The fire no longer a priority. Every noise sounding like a threat.

Alone in bed. Wondering why. Unsure what to do. The child within me feeling traumatised. 

So long until sunrise. Night is playing an awful trick. It’s blanketing me and never ending. I have no way of switching off my tired mind. It’s active, it’s thinking while I’m awake, trying to make sense of things.

Succumb to sleep again. This time I’m witness to my own insanity. The breakdown. My mind and body unable to process the pain, the stress. I’m lost in a world that exists only to me. I’m locked away. I’m feeling claustrophobic in the dream. I want to get away, I need to be free. But I’m both physically trapped and mentally lost in my own mind. I can see myself going through the motions, but I can also hear my brain. I’m desperately aware of the pain, of the confusion, of being lost and being held against my will by people that want to ‘cure’ me.

I’ve just woken in a panic. Restless like nothing I’ve experienced in a long time. Scared of the images, and scared of losing my own sanity.

I’m dizzy, my headaches, my mouth is dry. I don’t know what to do. I don’t know what I need. 

Thank god it’s light now. There is safety in the light. It’s so quiet though, as though everyone else has ceased to exist. I’m alone with this turmoil, the thread of sanity.

I don’t understand why I suffered last night. I’m scared of a repeat. I don’t know how to start the day from here.

I feel physically and mentally tired. I feel afraid. I feel disoriented and caught between my dreams and my nightmares.

I don’t know what to do. 

Family outing

I’m fully moved into my new home, which although lovely has been really upsetting – the realisation really hitting home that I’m alone.


I didn’t sleep too well, lots of nightmares and being unsettled, but I think that’s to be expected. 

Today I caught up with my kids and because of the bad weather, opted to go bowling. I really enjoyed it.


I think today I felt very connected to the family and in the ease of the banter and familiarity I fell into my usual place of mother and wife. I physically yearned to have my family back together again.

We returned to the house and the ache was painful. I wanted to curl up with S and watch movies while the kids curled up watching their movies and occasionally joining us.

It was so cold and miserable, I wanted to create a safe, warm home. With the love and togetherness of my family.

The pain was immense and I felt heartbreaking sorrow. With no control the tears flowed and I let the grief engulf me. I decided to head back to mine and not allow myself the lure of the comfort of my family. I will get time with my children when I get the second bed. But there is no place for me at the house with them. 

I was crying with full sorrow and loneliness as I left. I can’t begin to articulate the feeling of despair and isolation. I am alone. The house isn’t my home. The man I married isn’t my soul mate anymore. Not my confidante or best friend. I am nothing to him. The kids are mine to enjoy at intervals, not the 24/7 I’m used to. My world has tilted from its axis. Nothing is the same, there is no comfort in routine, no longer sanity in predictability. 

I returned to my home. It was bitterly cold, the rain hammered. I quietly went about lighting the fire, switching on lights. The silence deafening. 

I miss my family. 

I can only hope this gets easier with time. I have the greatest admiration for people that have made it through divorce. It’s an incredibly painful process, but those that have forged new lives must be incredibly strong and determined.

Right now I can’t imagine how I will get through the next few months. Let alone the next few days. I want to be strong, but at the moment I’m broken.

Growth and emptiness 

I saw my therapist yesterday. I explained my feelings as per my last blog here. As I feel I have no one to talk. Friends tell me to move on, other friends are desperate to see my new house – I appreciate their excitement but I need time to breathe. Everybody wants me to do something, be someone, but mostly be ok. I understand it comes from a place of love. And I appreciate that. But at this stage, I need to just be. 

My therapist explained my current ‘limbo’ feelings as normal when ‘transitioning’ and she explained the process of stopping to feel as I move physically and emotionally forward, I can’t be impatient. I need to stop and experience my feelings. No matter how painful or uncomfortable they be. I need to process what’s going on. Feeling limbo or lost is my body’s way of telling me it can’t process. Can’t make sense of everything.

Before my afternoon session I was so busy. I was nipping to different shops to find things, heading back and forth to my home. I just didn’t stop. When I got to my therapy session and just sat, feelings started to grow over me like a cold, dark shadow. My immediate feeling was emptiness and not something I felt comfortable to experience. Food, items, nothing to fill the void. Gradually I recognised my sadness at losing my companion, my best friend and the daily, constant noise and chaos of my children/family. There was an emptiness there, it was cold and sad, but nothing could replace it.

I have grown stronger in other aspects of my life. Less impatient, less intolerant, more open minded and my therapist notes, there’s more of a softness to me. It’s hard to see these changes in the thick of it. I felt like I’d stopped growing. But I have to believe that I am. I have to believe that despite the trials and tribulations I am still becoming a better, stronger more capable version of myself.

There is weakness there too. My tolerance for people with trivial issues is hard to grapple with. I just want to tell them to get on with it, get over it. But the issues I regard as trivial are big for them. This empathy is perhaps another indicator that counselling isn’t the right course for me! 

Life feels a little surreal at the moment. I’m at the house with the kids that haven’t stopped screaming at each other and creating mess. My nerves are feeling frayed. S is at my house putting together some flat pack stuff and has bought me a fridge. It’s strange that he’s there, in a new part of my life and I’m here, holding the fort in my old life.

It’s these situational paradoxes that leave me feeling unsure, floundering and intrinsically lonely. Afraid of what my future looks like. Anxious about the lack of control.

And yet in other news, yesterday evening my 11 year old daughter approached me tentatively with tears in her eyes, she whispered to me that her period had started. I was excited, but that wasn’t the reaction she wanted. So I adapted to her and acted discreetly, informatively. Fortunately I had prepared her for this day, so unlike me she didn’t think she was dying.  She didn’t wonder what the hell she was going to do, she didn’t feel dirty or ashamed. Embarrassed and terrified. She was just a bit upset about the changes and about growing older! But we talked for a while and she hugged me (she’s not a huggy type) and I felt proud of my growing little girl.

Life is changing. People are changing around me. I have a duty to them and I have a duty to myself. I really don’t know where things are going for me. I sure miss a close companion to share these things with. I can only hope in time I get used to being alone. To feel, think, worry, wonder, enjoy and be at peace with life alone.