First new steps
Posted by Fiona Nevile in Cottage tales | 52 comments
Danny has been back for a few days to sift through his stuff. It’s always good to see him. He brings me tea and perches on the end of my bed and we chat about our old points of contact on the Internet. The CSH forum, the blog and eBay. At the end of the day he returns to his new place in Ipswitch.
He’s getting fit. Walking, walking and walking. He’s even invested in a pair of hiking shoes – attractive trainers. He is looking good.
I remember that before I met him that this was his pattern.
“I want to get into shape.” He explained. “I love walking. And Galaxy chocolate.”
He’d left a failed relationship in America. Couldn’t get his green card so had traveled to England to start a new life.
I wonder if he’ll say the same to another lady, sometime down the line.
Back then I was delighted to be part of his new life – happily welcomed him with open arms. Now I wonder what really happened in America.
It’s important to remember that we had so many good times. Cuddling in front of the fire, indulging each other and just being a bit wild. Once in a fit of rage I throw D’s shoes onto the fire. They burst into flames in an instant. Perhaps this is a good recycling tip? The same evening Danny ripped his shirt open. It was a new one that I’d just given him.
“I’ve always wanted to do that”, he explained.
I found small white pearl buttons for months after when I was doing the cleaning.
We had fun times too. Like the occasion when we invited over a hundred people to a combined birthday party in our garden. A week before we lost our nerve and, concerned that loads of people wouldn’t come, we invested in ten ‘lifesized’ inflatable martians from the pound shop down in the town down south where D was working at the time. Perhaps the martians would bulk out the numbers a bit?
The night before the party D and I tested our lung capacity inflating these martians. As far as I can remember we managed to give buoyancy to the fist eight and shoved them into the kitchen. D pegged the final two of half inflated ones on the circular washing line. What on earth does a martian look like anyway?
The party was a success. Guests fought over who was going to leave with an arm round a martian.
Last week my sister pulled out a crumpled grey thing from under D’s desk in the Rat Room. When she unfurled it I recognised that it was the last surviving martian from that party. The plastic had deteriorated – there were holes in one shoulder and when we smoothed him out on the carpet the creases cracked open.
Today I spent the day alone. No visit from D – just the Min Pins for company.
I felt happy to my core for the first time in years.
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It does get ‘better’, Fiona, truly it does. But it takes time and it’s not always an easy road. So many people love you – the real you – and are saying so here. I hope that is a comfort and that it gives you something to hold onto as you work through the next weeks and months.
All my love.
Hey Fiona thanks for coming for a look at my blog. As you can see I have started to blog again and hopefully there will be no troll comments.
Good to see your on the mend.
Fiona, you sent me a lovely sympathetic tweet when I lost my rabbit around the time The Contessa suddenly died. It was so kind, even though you must have been grieving yourself. It made a big difference.
I’m truly sorry to hear that you’re in pain now. It bothers me to think you hid some of that pain for so many years. I’m very confident that you will grow much, much happier in time though – I truly believe you’re an immensely strong person: probably even more so than you’re aware!
Thank you for everything and I’m sorry you’re having to deal with this. I have huge respect and admiration and I just wanted to let you know that I’m thinking of you and wishing ardently for big improvements asap for you.
Oh, Fiona. What a battering your self-esteem has taken over the years, from people that you trusted. Your last couple of posts have been heartbreaking. I truly admire the way you’ve been able to create so much in your life, and keep such a positive attitude. With all that baggage, and your illness as well, I’m not surprised you felt down to the point of giving up. But you haven’t. You’ve taken a huge step forward, and being on your own is going to bring so many positive things. Look in the mirror and be proud of who you are! I’m excited to follow what you will do next.
If you can say at the end of a day alone that you were happy to your core I think you are beginning to mend. I say this as someone who has gone through a couple of deeply upsetting break ups of long-lasting relationships. I have found that there comes a point when the relief of being alone breaks through the misery, illness, desolation, shame, guilt & loneliness.
I wish you the strength to pull through & to start blossoming along with the Spring. I find sowing seeds & watching them germinate & grow helps me cope with difficult situations.
Take care of yourself Fiona & keep blogging, I am sure it will help. Hugs to you & the Min-Pins.
I’d been thinking along the same lines as Gottaknit. We all know large women with babies. Their men have obviously gritted their teeth and got on with the job – or, plain and simple, they have loved and enjoyed their girls, whatever!
I’m suspecting issues on D’s part here!
Leaving aside the abuse, which is more baggage than most of us would know how to carry, there is an exercise that might help with the “fat” issue.
Next time you are in a place where there are lots of menbers of the jolly old public, take a look around and see just how many young women there are who are waaay fatter than you. Then consider just how many of them are pushing babies around – they won’t all be borrowed, some of them at least will be home grown.
So who has the problem with the extra pounds?
I’d say, on you they look good.
I was also an abused child with an horrific childhood. I agree it makes you see life differently. My own children were never left alone with my abuser and I only found a measure of peace once he had died. He left me money which I spent on a fantastic holiday to Disney in Florida. That erased a lot of pain. My hubby knows the basics but I never talk about the details. I know how you feel and am solidly behind you. One thing I taught my children and follow myself is no one has the right to make you unhappy. As everyone has said it is early days but you will be okay. Feel free to vent to us, it is a way we can help.
Me too Aly. That’s why Fiona’s story resonates with me so much, I’ve also had body issues my entire life following the abuse. Thankfully, my husband of 30 years is completely loving and supportive.
That has made me cry, how awful to have held that in so long. We have never met but I feel I know you through the forum. Throughout 34 years of marriage I have been size 18 and size 10 and everything in between. OH has always found me sexy and said he loves me whatever size I am. That is how it should be. You can now build some self esteem and hopefully realize you are a beautiful person. That comes from within and is not determined by size.
Thank you Aly
I rarely go on the forum so haven’t really met you in cyberspace.
But Let me enjoy a big hug with you now…
Thank you!
Dear Fiona,
To say I am shocked is an understatement! I am shocked, yes by you and Danny splitting up but what has shocked me more is the reasoning behind it.
I have followed your posts for a good few years now, admiring and looking up to you. I have been steadily working my way to living an increasingly self sufficient lifestyle, gathering advice and inspiration all along from YOU!
I just cannot believe that all along you have been shouldering this incredible weight. How you have always remained so up beat and enthusiastic is beyond me.
Fiona, if you could be all that and more in those circumstances, what can you be now?
When you feel down, think on that. Your friend in adversity Heidi xx
Hello Heidi
My brother, sister and I were deeply abused as children. This teaches you to accept the unacceptable and actually programmes this state of mind for the rest of your life. Survival kicks in very rapidly. However you are always left with the thought that if it happened it must have been your fault etc etc. Again this is all part of the process of abuse and how it grows.
My sister and I were also sexually abused by this ‘war hero’ – http://www.telegraph.co.uk/news/obituaries/military-obituaries/army-obituaries/8614250/Major-Harry-Robinson.html. We liked and trusted him but when we became nubile everything changed – he abused my sister in front of his baby son. Later I held the same small son in my arms when it all happened. The child sobbed throughout.
Yes I’m lucky that 50 years later I’ve finally been able to say no. Although D’s comments and behaviour were paltry compared to that nightmare.
That’s why I put up with the 12 years. The good side of childhood abuse is that most of the abused are more generous spirited than the non abused especially when they grow up. Suffering generally promotes a deeper understanding in all humans and many animals as well.
I didn’t divulge the childhood sexual abuse to my mum, as his wife was my mum’s best friend. I had been forced to let my best friend go when mum remarried and we left Cambridge. I never really got over parting from this friend, she was magical. You can read about her here https://www.cottagesmallholder.com/twink-7418/
Yes I’m pretty upbeat and enthusiastic about life. It’s so precious and, even for the likes of me, well within my grasp.
This summer I must admit that I was beaten. I just gave up. But there’s life in the old dog yet. I’m back up and barking like mad and if I disturb the neighbours – https://www.cottagesmallholder.com/the-italian-cockerels-must-go-6856/ – tough!
Fiona, all this must have been so awful for you. It makes me feel so angry!
You have been through so much and are still fighting.
Go wake those neighbours up!
Love and big hugs being sent your way xx