Yearly Archives: 2013

A *much* better year.

Work

Positive

• My tutor group did (on the whole) very well in their exams, and were all suitably fab at their leavers ball. Over the five years I had them I grew rather fond of a great many of them, so I was proud of their achievements, but a little sad to see them go.
• Received some positive feedback for once from both my form (hooray for good kids with good sense) and the senior leader observing.
• New form group seem to be pleasant creatures, more-or-less, in contrast to my previous bunch.
• For the first time in six years, I applied for new jobs. I made a teaching portfolio from scratch, applied for four jobs and made it to interview at two. Although the experiences were quite difficult at times, they were good experiences, as the more often I get rejected, the more confident I grow (!), and I have a better idea of what schools are right for me.
• I am now technically Head of Photography – I say technically, because it’s basically the same shit that i’ve been doing for years, with a sprinkling of senior leadership dialogue. No more pay attached of course.
• Successfully made it through the pay threshold. Finally.
• Started on the Wellbeing Project, helping me further identify what I do and do not want.
• Managed to properly negotiate some protection for staff alongside the other union rep.
• One of my exam groups I had sole responsibility of did very well, despite the large group size.

Negative

• Members of the form who had been shitty towards me for five years continued to be so, all the way up to the goddamned end.
• Continued lack of support from management with regards tutor group.
• It is very frustrating to receive feedback that employers think I would be well-able to do the job offered, but they have decided to go with someone with more experience.
• Looking back, I am glad I did not get offered the jobs I interviewed for, as both of them were not the best fit for me. But of course, not finding something new is not-the-best.
• Continued lack of career growth in my current school.
• Post-grad art teaching course cancelled due to lack of applicants.
• Didn’t get all the concessions I feel were needed with union stuff.
• Ever increasing admin and data demands leading to decreasing time free to actually teach and think about teaching.
• Obsessive focus on what Ofsted are looking for rather than what will help kids succeed and feel valued leading to increased pressure and stress. Ugh.

Personal

Positive

• It took a long time, probably a whole year, but at last I felt fully recovered from the post-Coppell fall-out. I learnt much about myself, and my choice of partners in the process, and the time passed helped me realise that for a good chunk of 2012, I was really very unwell mentally. This year, I got to the point where I felt very happy both in my own skin, and happy being on my own.
• I started (and continue with) pottery class, which is something creative I do that is not linked directly to work, and helps me feel better about life.
• The Wellbeing Project at work has helped me look at situations differently, both at work and personally. I’ve done lots of questioning as to what I want and have given thought to how I can achieve things, but there is still plenty to ponder. I hope to get less caught up in work-related shit, especially around exam time, as that is a huge source of stress to me.
• I finally put my Expedit shelving unit up – that which had lain in pieces for over eight months. Progress!
• I visited Cornwall for the first time since I was a teen, and had an excellent time in Falmouth, where I got to spend time flopping about on a beach – wearing a bikini top no less – and dancing to jungle in a formal dress at (the beautiful and inspiring) Betty’s lovely nuptials. The Eden Project made me get my rage on at its hideous cost and twee, shallow approach, but spending time near the sea was a much appreciated change.
• I spent three amazing weeks in beautiful Colorado. I’ve never been anywhere quite so gorgeous, and the time exploring, hiking and generally living as a local was wonderful. Seeing glaciers, rivers, torrential rain, thunderstorms, deserts and sand dunes in one holiday was so, so brilliant. I went most places solo, drove an automatic car for the first time and talked to people I met, rather than withdrawing as I once might have.
• Whilst in Colorado I saw hummingbirds. They blew my mind – I giggled like a very excited, very oversized toddler the first time I saw one, and they continued to hold my attention throughout my time there.
• I got to see My Beloved Texan for the first time in nearly ten years; it was great to catch up and hear about all the changes and similarities that had happened in our lives, and it was reassuring to see that we could pick up where we left off ten years earlier. The sign of a good friend indeed – situations might change, but fundamentally the good qualities remain.
• I got to spend seven glorious days in the company of the quite remarkable Petrichor, the most interesting, most wonderful man I have had the privilege of spending time with. He fascinated me. In those seven days I got to experience so many new things in terms of companionship and intimacy; I wasn’t looking to meet someone, nor did I think i’d be so enamoured of a person so very different, but I found that he fulfilled me in ways that no other partner managed to do. I felt he understood me, particularly appreciating my qualities where past partners had barely scratched the surface, and I greatly appreciated his complexity and individualism. Our time together was a glimpse of brilliance that could actually be, which meant so much to me as I know good connections are such rare happenings.
• Spent a lot of weekends doing something, whether that was seeing art or meeting up with friends. This is a change from the past, where I might spend very many weekends doing fuck all and feeling sorry for myself. I went to the Ceramics Biennale at the old Spode factory in Stoke which was ace.

Negative

• The illness and eventual death of Leia Ewok Village’s Mum. I am so, so glad I visited the two of them before her Mum died, but being relatively far from her made things difficult. I felt I didn’t offer enough support.
• Spent a lot of money on my car, be it servicing or fixing problems (windscreen, alternator etc); I hope that this means I won’t have to spend much in the coming year…
• Getting to spend such a short amount of time with Petrichor. I miss the furry bugger. Ug.

Home. Grateful for food, presents and company, but glad to be back somewhere I have control over my living arrangements, to a space where I decide whether or not to socialise.

Hooray.

Up North visiting family for a few days. It’s hmm, day three, and the enforced socialising has started to get to me. It’s that or my Dad going on about how equality is ruining the country or dealing with my Mum’s anxiety displayed when she fusses over me when I do not wish to take part. Ugh.

I’m ready to go home.

Home is where I will put my onesie on and/or make a nest of duvet and blankets and excitedly read my new book on the biological roots of crime. Reading about serial killers and how society fucks kids up is my kind of festive period woooooo. Home is where I will curl up and ignore New Years and feel good having steak and ice cream all to myself. Home is where I can be me.

The only plans I have are to meet up with Leia Ewok Village and see some art with Number One Aunt. The rest of the time I am going to sleep, absorb the internet and ponder upon what I want with regards the future, both career-wise and personally.

At the moment, I’d very much like to have a stimulating new work environment (preferably set in beautiful Colorado), a one bed flat and a bajillion hours of kissing, hand-holding and sexual exploration with an equal. Oh and also a dog.

Not that any of those things is achievable.

Perhaps I could start on my pile of washing up… :D

This week finds me exhausted. Tired from the kids seemingly losing the plot as they approach Christmas, tired from not getting to bed early enough, tired when I wake up and look out into a dark and gloomy morning, before coming home from work in similar conditions. Tired due to hormones. Tired of Christmas everywhere, and it hasn’t even got here yet.

All the plates are dirty, the sink stacked with glasses “temporarily soaking” and there are clothes strewn here-and-there about the floor.

It’s been a three-McDonalds-in-ten-days sort of time.

Ug.

Years of practice etcetera.

Rokeby Venus

The new staircase at Tate Britain, as imagined by me in moonlight

Recently went to see
Art Under Attack at the newly extended and re-branded Tate Britain accompanied by Favourite Aunt #1; I learned things ooooooooo :D

Specifically, I didn’t know about the systematic destruction of “idolatry” under Cromwell’s reign – the stained glass panels re-cobbled together from shattered pieces were particularly beautiful; I was also unaware of the attacks on paintings by the Suffragettes.

Their idea was that by defacing images of women portrayed as objects, they drew attention to the living, breathing women who were denied a voice and were brutalised by the state.

The issues raised seemed very contemporary, and were all the more interesting for being so.

Escape Plan update:

No-luck on the job in Bristol. They “had a very strong field” and thanked me for my “serious interest” in their school. At least they sent a rejection letter to my application – this is most definitely welcome. Well done, private girls’ school.

I continue to scan for jobs, and am trying to register for another agency, but getting the ridiculous number of references required (four!!) is proving difficult, as I do not trust the management at my school to provide a positive reference, or one that accurately reflects my abilities as a teacher.

Non-management colleagues all rate me, and I receive feedback from both kids and parents as to how supportive I am and that I do a decent job of things. The kids tell me that I am inspiring, and explain things really well, so that they enjoy their art lessons, which is just one aspect that senior management will have fuck all idea about. SIGH.

Back to Favourite Aunt #1: Over a very long and gossip-filled lunch of overpriced sandwiches in the new Tate Café, she told me that she couldn’t understand why, if we got on so well, me and Petrichor wouldn’t want to spend more time hanging out. Shrugs all round.

I said I was asking to spend more time together at Christmas, not asking for a twenty-five year commitment up-front, but that I still felt sad about the situation, as we hit it off *so* very well chemistry-wise, and I experienced so many new, wonderful things that I miss in my life. I admitted my regrets in how I handled some aspects of what happened. I talked about how brains with ADHD apparently handle fear differently. Both of us agreed that life is too short, and that when you make a connection it is a rare, rare thing, and so everyone involved should go for it. She said that he’s an idiot.

Favourite Aunt #1 has been making plans for some time now to make an exit from her deeply unsatisfying, unsupportive, at times abusive marriage. She asked me flat out what I thought the state of her marriage was, and I said that when she’s around her husband, the vivacious, strong, independent and generally fabulous woman disappears. She agreed with me.

I find my Uncle makes me uncomfortable whenever I see him (thankfully very infrequently). He creeps me out, as he’ll literally look me up-and-down and assess me when we meet. He is also very controlling towards my Aunt. UGH.

Anyway, my Aunt is being extremely sensible about it all and has made arrangements to protect herself financially when the moment comes, but that is extremely daunting to her, as she will be telling her husband that their marriage of over thirty years is dunzo. She is very worried about his reaction, in the sense of his anger and how he could direct it.

A very difficult situation.

She’s such a fab, ridiculously smart woman; I hope that everything works out for her, as she really does deserve SO much better…

(An experiment)

See

Almost all my nearest and dearest at my birthday outing, which was grand. I felt a bit melancholy at points during the evening, but they were blips rather than downward slides. Dinner, drinks and dancing at our favourite shitty club was had, with no mild sexual assault of any sort experienced hurrah.

Also, Gogglebox, which has turned out to be a wonderful suggestion from Bobby Convey. Blackfish, which was a very upsetting watch, but I would *highly* recommend. If I ever reproduce, no child of mine is going to Sea World.

Applied for another job, this time at a private school in Bristol. Still looking Stateside.

Hear

A lot of Hole this week at work… feeling angsty along with the fifteen-year-olds in the room.

It’s got to that point in the term where I feel knackered most days, and where my mood is starting to be challenged by the behaviour of the kids at work. Stuff that I would usually manage so that it slides off my back angers or irks, and there is much more ranting to be heard than is usual.

I get home and curl up under the quilt my Mum made and listen to the rainfall setting I have on my radio and wish myself elsewhere.

Taste

Some sort of apple cake at my birthday dinner. Spongy, yet rather dense and not very apple-y, but warm and delicious nonetheless. And free, which is always appreciated.

Smell

The lilies slowly wilting in their vase on my desk. As the blooms look like they’re about to fall I snap them off their stems and peel the petals off, to dry them and recycle them into some of my ceramics experiments.

Feel

The warm softness of my stomach post-Chocolate Fudge Brownie session. My coccyx giving me pain at home and at work. Sadness at watching the kids at work succumbing to mental health problems with families that seem to lack understanding

:(

This weekend it’s London and a trip round Tate Britain with a favourite Aunt, which should be good, though Petrichor will undoubtedly be discussed, as the Aunt is the one who introduced us.

Sigh.

During an internet trawl for a softer desk chair that I can sit cross-legged upon (the coccyx horrors of not having a sofa to curl up on), I found this thing: Five Senses Friday.

Writing is something I like to do. In the last month i’ve banged out a five-hundred word post which I never finished off, and so ended up wasting it as time passed and it seemed inappropriate to stick up. I need to write more frequently and actually finish things, so the idea of sort of summarising what’s been going on/what’s been floating about my brain is a decent one, even if only for my use.

Sight/Seeing
Hearing/Heard/Listening
Taste/Tasting
Smell/Smelling
Touch/Feeling

Maybe I need to add in an emotion too, like LiveJournal circa 2004. Hmmm.

Just got to actually write summat of course… :/

This morning, over-tired from the weekend, Pilates and pottery, I dreamt that:

After diving through several swimming pools at a spa located on a space ship (in near-Earth orbit), I was running through airport lounges in search of Petrichor, who I found outside on the lam from the Poh-leece.

I stood on top of a car and yelled his name across the street as he ducked and weaved between parked cars on his way towards me, all whilst “interestingly” topped with a black, chin-length wig.

I could see the shiny synthetic strands sweat-plastered to his face.

I woke up before I found out whether he made it.

Maybe the bad wig is linked to Shiherlis?

Ug.

Hooray MR T is fixed… at a cost of £250. I’ve had to spend a lot on my car this year – I hope this trend does not continue. Ug.

This weekend is my official birthday outing. Almost all my nearest and dearest are coming, and I am greatly looking forward to spending many a (chilly) hour with them, accompanied with good food and lots of booze.

My actual birthday was a complete non-event, same as it ever was, with a garnish of cards. Work, stress, Pilates and pottery, where I found my pot had been ruined due to a kiln error, and I spent most of the evening fed up and working hard to keep my emotions in check. Sigh.

I hope that the weekend will be better…

MR T gave up on me less than a mile from home today, going dead as I whizzed along the motorway; I was extremely glad i’d chosen to wear my down jacket and snow boots to work!

The lovely RAC man said it’s not the timing belt, but something to do with it (YIKES), so I trudged home behind the barrier and my poor car got towed away to be stored overnight at a garage across town. Tomorrow they’re going to give me a call with a diagnosis, and a quote for repair. More money i’d rather be spending on something fun. SIGH.

“Now in my 50’s, when with any luck a man might finally begin to acquire that elusive thing called wisdom, I know that there is nothing more exciting yet rare in life than making a true connection with someone. I have always been too sentimental for my own good, but in all honesty, I have never felt more at ease with anyone than I did laughing and talking to you that dimly lit midtown bar.”

Dude meets gal wayyy back in 1973 and twenty years later the experience still stays with him.

Gawker Heartbreaking Craigslist Missed Connection Demands a Happy Ending

Ed Ruscha
HOPE
1998

In the month post-Petrichor, i’ve had good days and bad, weeks where work issues push out thoughts of Colorado, nights where I wish I was curled up with an overgrown Frat boy with a brain as big as a tax-avoidance scheme, mornings where I feel sad as I shower. Tears when hugging my hot water bottle. A mixed bag.

I’ve not felt such a strong connection to a man, never felt such a sense of comfort in being around them. Being able to be me, not shrink, just happily co-exist and be acknowledged in doing so and appreciated for being me. I know what I experienced was rare, and although our time together was brief, I am glad I experienced something so new and wonderful, even as its loss has been upsetting.

From my brief glimpse into a very foreign land, I discovered that:

• I really do have a type – brainy, brawny guys who are outgoing, taller than me and are not exactly bean-poles.
• Confidence is as big a turn-on as intelligence and humour to this introvert.
• I seem to like men who cry when sad.
• Manfur is still awesomesauce.
• Receiving compliments and verbal praise is hard at first but turns out to be all good.
• It is possible that someone will like me as much as I like them.
• Complete sexual fulfillment is actually achievable.
• Someone being hands-on – holding my hand, kissing me in public, a hand on my knee at dinner, small displays of care and affection – blows my mind.

On a recent boozy weekend out with Caversham Princess and Bobby Convey an interesting observation was made – I see potential in people who haven’t quite realised it yet. I’d never thought of this. Are the outgoing men I find attractive always compensating for difficult/traumatic backgrounds? Is it that I see there’s a fragility amongst the jokes and self-assuredness? Is it the potential for growth I like, or do I need to fix people?

I don’t think I am into fixing. I love to help people, hence the career, but I don’t think that extends to intimate partners in terms of wanting someone to need me.

Bobby and Caversham also said I was selective, that it’s not me being defective and that perhaps love will come later to my life. I know i’m selective in both partner choice and employment choice (!), so the browsing of people that don’t tick any boxes, of four dates in nearly as many years is something that makes me feel down. So i’m not on any dating site, and have essentially given up on that front.

When I say that, what I mean is that it’s better to ignore what I have no control over and look after myself. That doesn’t mean i’m closing myself off, though I will admit there’s an element to that post-Petrichor, nor does it mean that i’m not going to feel sad, and that everything will be sunshine and rainbows. Better to focus on what does soothe me and bring happiness, as best I can.

Until someone else distracts me, there’s always going to be a longing to have Petrichor in my life and a sadness as a result. He is unfinished business.

Back to reading about Elizabeth Taylor’s life and loves methinks.

“Over time, the elite’s hubris grew so great that their response to critics (particularly the so called “California newspaper”) became essentially “Who are you? What are you going to do about it?” Years passed before they received an answer that impressed them: “I’m from the FBI, and I’m here to read you a Miranda warning”

Comment spam that interested me.

View out my window earlier today…

This week I spent a bit of time en famille Oop North, hanging out with my brother, enduring my Dad’s ridiculous statements on society’s failings and trying to sidle out of my Mum’s anxieties. Fun! Additionally, an Aunt and Uncle i’d not seen in about ten years were there, so I got to catch up with the both of them and find out how things are going for my cousins.

This is the side of the family that hosted a guesstimated €30K wedding for their eldest (€3K dress, €400 Jimmy Choos that sliced her feet up, stately home venue). My Aunt spent most of the time telling me how brilliant/thin/rich her kids are, or how adorable/tall/smart her grandchild is and how wonderful her daughter is for taking her to Pilates/Baby Yoga etc.

UKIP shoved a campaign leaflet through my parents’ door, and I enjoyed reading all the bullshit they spouted in it, you know, facts seemingly being unimportant and all, whilst simultaneously being horrified by what I was reading. Every so often I would let out some indication of anguish/amusement and share the hilarity/horror I was reading; what was really interesting to me was that my Aunt and Uncle were not really up for discussing the political/society issues raised.

It was okay to talk endlessly of her grandchild or share her pride how her second daughter is a size 6 or discuss wedding dresses for her upcoming nuptials or babies, but not stuff that I think matters. Now, family is important, to varying degrees (I do not feel very close to mine but I know that will probably change as I age), but there is *SO* much more to life than weddings and fucking babies.

I don’t mean in that way. You know what I mean.

These subjects are things that I fail at on the femininity front, just like fake tans, wearing makeup daily, or heels to work. I remember spending time with my cousins when we were teens, and it was made very clear that what a woman should do is keep herself well-maintained, spending money on creams, treatments and designer clothing. I am not that, and never will be, and that’s a-okay. I found so much talk about stereotypically womanly things quite oppressive and difficult to feign interest in.

There is a tiny part of me that wonders if the lack of male interest in me would be sorted out if I wore foundation or more skirts, but then a microsecond later I know that thinking that way is utterly idiotic. As I tell my kids at work, if someone likes you they’ll like you whether you’re dressed up or down, whether you have scars or clear skin, rich or poor. They’ll like the person, not the shallow layers. They just will.

Off to get my hair cut nice and tight this afternoon :)

Come Friday around 4.30pm I will officially be free from work for a short break. HURRAH. I’m planning to visit family, see friends and catch up on sleeeeep, as well as have a good think about what i’ve covered in the Wellbeing Project over the last six weeks.

Hopefully i’ll feel like i’ve caught my breath.

The experiments I did last week in the pottery class I go to had come out well, so spending two hours yesterday evolving what i’d made and pondering what I could do to them with regards finishes was hugely enjoyable. I could make and alter and feel calm and in the zone as I chipped and moulded and squished and refined.

A colleague i’d not seen on Friday asked how things went with the interview; after I got her up to speed she asked me whether, as consolation, i’d booked my flights yet for Christmas and Petrichor. I brought the photography catalogue I was flicking through up to hide my face with an “Oh God i’m going to cry” and lo – tears a go go. My colleague hugged me and talked through with me what happened, commenting that it must feel like i’ve been kicked whilst i’m down. Yes, yes it does.

Anyway, no weeping today. I still feel sad and flat. When someone’s been in your thoughts in a positive way every day for two months, weaning myself off hope takes time. Sigh. Friday brings a break from school for a week which will be MUCH appreciated.

“Flow is the mental state of operation in which a person performing an activity is fully immersed in a feeling of energized focus, full involvement, and enjoyment in the process of the activity.”

Wikipedia – Flow

Stayed in bed ’til gone 1pm today, mixing sleeping, absorbing of the internet and feeling sorry for myself.

Walked to the shops to buy cake.

Finished off another Bernie Gunther novel (the series by Philip Kerr is one of my favourites).

Watched the rain pour down on the leaves of the increasingly sunset-coloured trees outside my window.

Arranged dinner with McCy.

Moped.

Felt very down in the morning, with more tears to match, but then calmer post-Bernie Gunther.

This past week has been a bit too much for me, what with Petrichor upset, being sleep-deprived, work woes and interview pressure. I’m very glad to have a weekend to do very little, to be able stand under the hot shower just that little bit longer.

Turned out I was up against a Head of Faculty, a Head of Department, a Second in Department and an internal candidate. I was unable to see a clear path through what I was being asked to teach, so my lesson lacked pace. It was poor.

I feel I was unable to show the best of me because I struggled so much with the subject I was presenting, as it was so old-fashioned- nebulous yet very tight; during the feedback when I explained that I was nervous and so fumbled over things the Head told me that I hid my nerves too well :/

When I got home there was a parcel from Petrichor waiting for me, sent a couple of weeks back before everything fell apart. It was full of cute, thoughtful loveliness, so of course this evening I am multitasking on weeping post-interview, post-potential Good Thing.

I feel so fucking fed up.

So fucking tired.

Being repeatedly disappointed seems to be par for the course.

Been awake for a couple of hours already, with an 8.30am – 8.30pm day at work in the offing. Then I have to prepare myself mentally for Friday and also get a good night’s sleep. Yays :(

I always think this clip from Amélie sums up very succinctly the pain I feel when it comes to relationships. In it, Amélie imagines that the man she has fallen in love with is out buying her the yeast she has just run out of. But he is not there, and her hopes and desires are dashed.

—————————–

So, instead of spending the evening preparing for my interview on Friday, I have spent most of my evening sobbing, producing an ever-increasing pile of sodden tissues.

So the Head of Department position at my old nemesis is up for grabs as i’ve been invited for interview on Friday. I’ve never been for an HOD position before so have little idea as to what questions might be sprung upon me :s

The lesson theme i’ve been asked to teach is horrible – very old-fashioned, prescriptive and dull-as-dishwater; it’s been quite a challenge to come up with something suitable to fill my twenty-five minutes with. Anyway, i’ve still a lot to prepare – all the handouts, resources, cover for the day out of school etc. as well as reading up about the exam boards they do and having a flick through a document my old boss gave me about the principles behind being an HOD.

I also have mentoring to do at work, reviews to check, Wellbeing to attend, and an open evening to help prepare for and man the night before my interview. Afterwards, I have to race back for a parents afternoon.

All I want to do is crawl into bed, clutch at my hot water bottle (it’s so chilly now) and shut out the outside world. UG.

So I had a very enjoyable weekend pottering about Havant and East Wittering; I’d not seen Caversham Princess or Bobby Convey in quite a while so it was good to drink red wine, eat mini-poppadoms and cassoulet and put the world bang to rights as always.

Spending time near the sea was wonderful, both on the Saturday when all was becalmed and warm and on the Sunday when the wind blew and the rain lashed.

In between geeking-out over particularly pleasing pebbles and getting excited about all the dogs on the beach, I thought about Petrichor. I thought of him whilst I slid down the shingle banks and watched the waves slip back and forth over the bubble-strewn, gritty sand… I pictured his gloriously haystack hair as I watched the hedgerows zip past the car window. And I felt sad.

The week of non-contact started off okay but as the days have passed my feelings have changed quite markedly.

:(

This afternoon, East Wittering beach:

Rain, wind, blowing-the-cobwebs-out weather.

Thighs numbed-kinda day.

Wonderful.

Strong cup of tea to warm up in a nearby pub (with a packet of salted peanuts for protein), Boston Terriers (!!!) and French Bulldogs wandering about the tables.

Hooray for Friday and a mini-break to the South coast with Caversham Princess and Bobby Covey. Looking forward to good food, lots of drink and good company, all rounded off with some spray and surf exposure time at the pebbly beach.

It’ll be great to get away, get some head space, ponder upon Petrichor quietly and just drink in “be”-ing.

My photo of a moth I spotted on the ground during a walk up a bit too-much-of-a-challenge-for-the-end-of-the-day hill at Heligan. It looked like it was moping, so the image seemed appropriate.

Spent my day off work variously, catching up on lost sleep, weeping every now-and-then and thinking about Petrichor. Of course before I was able to do any of this I had to spend an hour before I should have been at work preparing the cover work for the classes I was missing. SIGH.

I emailed a couple of people i’d been meaning to email, and wrapped a present for my brother’s upcoming birthday. I took an extra-long hot shower and did some washing up. Listened to sad music. I got pissed off with work emails I read (boundaries my arse monky!) and thought about the Christmas I will now be spending feeling fed up at my parents house. As usual. I tried to make sense of Petrichor’s decision but could not (why not spend time with each other at Christmas and go from there?). I moped and felt glum.

I feel like going back to work is not as horrifying a prospect as it was this morning (this was a GOOD decision not to go in), but given that we’ve been in contact with each other nearly every day over the last couple of months, as the days pass without textually poking each other it’s going to be very weird.

At this point in the evening i’ve reached a sort of funk, not crying but just sad and down. I expect i’ll shed more tears, but at the moment I feel deflated.

Petrichor told me last night that he can’t do the time apart and distance.

So that’s that it would seem.

———————————-

The questions I ask myself are:

– How likely is it that I will meet anyone with whom I will get on as well with/be as attracted to?

With two dates – yes, that’s *two days* – over *a year-and-a-half*, I think the likelihood is slim to zero. I can’t predict the future but given past experience I think it is not very likely. At all.

So, I thought, given how well we got on and the connection I thought we felt, Petrichor was worth waiting for. Worth the effort.

Good Things are increasingly rare it would seem, and so it’s not like he was the best of a bad bunch – he really is wonderful. I don’t settle for mediocrity, it’s not worth my time and i’d *much* rather be on my own that put up with such shit. I’m not going to see anyone else for sex or companionship- i’m after a connection that satisfies.

– But what were we working towards?

Petrichor is very much someone who lives in the now. This is admirable, as that sort of mindfulness is hard to attain.

In the spirit of problem-solving I would suggest ways that we could perhaps ease the time we were apart, but we didn’t put any of these suggestions into practice, which leaves me feeling like what could have been great has been cut down before its time.

With a complete lack of even short term goals (e.g. let’s cam at the weekend, watch the same film and chat about it, do something dirty on cam, arrange to meet up), I feel like we didn’t give things a proper go. Being a cheerleader for your relationship is so important, and with nothing to work towards it is extra hard.

Petrichor said that he was concerned with what was achievable, not what could be achieved. I don’t think we fully fulfilled what was achievable, let alone got anywhere on what could have been. I really hoped we’d be able to meet at Christmas, spend more time in each other’s company and work out what we wanted to do from that point onwards. It’s impossible to ignore potential.

I knew wherever we were heading it was not going to be easy. Our separateness was not something that would be quickly and easily resolved, but I thought he was brilliant, with a great future ahead of him that I wanted to be a part of. So, again, worth the trouble to get there.

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Thanks to the Wellbeing project I womaned-up and called in sick to work – boundary setting ahoy; I had slept very, very poorly and would usually drag myself into school and spend the day failing on the “Not going to cry!”-thing or shouting at the kids when they overwhelm me.

What usually happens is that the kids notice I am very, very quiet (they are used to me being very outgoing and happy) and one of them will ask if i’m okay, which then leads to crying :(

So, i’ve asked to take a break from all contact with him for seven days and then I will reassess whether or not I think I am able to keep in touch with him without drawing out the agony. I don’t know the answer to that, and I don’t know whether i’ll know in seven days time.

I’m very sad today. And I miss him.

Sobbing in the shower is the new black