You Won’t Be Mine…

Yet again my period has crept up on me.  Today I have had no interest in doing anything.  I haven’t been able to work on any assignments or do anything productive.  All I have done is play Spider Solitaire on my laptop and listen to music.

When I’m in this kind of mood, the music I play will have an effect on me.  I will pick music to match my mood, or to bring it down even further.  Right now, I’m listening to Matchbox Twenty’s You Won’t Be Mine, from their Mad Season album.  It’s a haunting track and like the person who will always haunt my thoughts, tinkers with my heart-strings in a way few songs do: I know soon you will be/Over the lies and you’ll be strong/You’ll be rich in love and you will carry on/But no you won’t be mine

I put a full stop at the end of the word mine, but then deleted it, because it made it seem so final.  I know that this person never was mine and never will be.  Yet I want to scream at God and ask him why, how can he do this to me?  To make me believe I am in love with the same person for 22 years, more than half my life.  Someone I have only spoken to for the first time in the last month.  A cruel joke.

I don’t see how I can ever forget about this person.  At best he gets boxed and placed upon a shelf, out the way.  But like a child’s comfort blanket, I can never let go, and I grip so hard of his memory that it makes my knuckles go white.

I know that my hormones are raging right now, and hopefully in a few days the storm will have calmed.  I have a SAD lamp on order and hopefully that will improve my mood as well as my ability to get on with work.  I can’t fail again at uni.  I MUST graduate next year.  I couldn’t bear not to.  I have to achieve something in my life.  But right now I cannot see how I can get one assignment done, let alone three.

Last night I saw Silver Linings Playbook, the new film with Bradley Cooper as a man diagnosed with bi-polar disorder after finding his wife in the shower with a fellow teacher.  His wife had the decency to play their wedding song, My Cherie Amour by Stevie Wonder, while she was doing the deed, and on release from the mental institution he is admitted to, every time he hears the song it sends him crazy.  I can sympathise.

I’m finally getting tired now and will go to bed once I’ve posted this.  I feel drained, which is pretty normal when I feel this way.  I can only hope that tomorrow is more productive.

I’ll leave you with another song, called Burnin’ In My Mind by Eric Martin.  I was lucky enough to meet Eric at a gig in Italy a few years ago.  In a complete twist of fate, I ended up going to his aftershow party, and then getting a lift with the band back to my hotel, which also turned out to be the band’s hotel!! Before you get excited, Eric is happily married to Denise, and has two beautiful twin boys.  But that night I did get to talk to him about this song and how much I related to it.  Two and a half years later, it still sums up the way I feel, and all I can do is hope that this becomes the best-case scenario – that I can accept the fact that He is just The One That Got Away.  I’m tired of being free/It gets hard every day/Cos in my mind you’ll always be/The one that got away… ❤




My Furry Representation

They say that dogs look like their owners.  We’ve all seen the pictures of a woman with the same hair-do as her poodle, or a guy with the same kind of droopy mouth as his basset hound.  I don’t know if people say the same about cats and their owners.  Well I don’t really look very much like The Bish.  He’s furry and black all over, with the exception of the one white whisker that has recently popped out of his left cheek.  I am a brunette, not so furry and have no whiskers (not that I’m admitting to).  One thing we do share is a bit of a stomach, but that’s only down to our love of food.

But right now we are more alike than you could ever imagine.  I haven’t been able to stop crying; he hasn’t stopped miaowing and pulling up the carpet.  He keeps searching everywhere for that one thing he just can’t seem to find; ditto.

I am sure he is picking up on my stress.  Pets do have a way of reacting to their owner’s behaviour.  He just won’t settle and I guess that is like me.  I am forever searching for the one thing I can’t seem to have.  Why is it that when you know you can’t have something, you just want it even more?

I will do what I can to try to calm him, comfort him, offer him what I can to ease his pain.  Speak of the devil – he’s just walked into my bedroom.  He won’t come up to the bed for a cuddle like he so often does.  He’s now sat on the ottoman in my bay window, which is finally clear to sit on after my dejunking session yesterday.  He’s looking out the window which overlooks the street.  He’s not allowed to go out the front of the house, so for him all he can do is gaze out of the window at what he imagines is the greener grass on the other side.  Perhaps he gets that from me.  The grass isn’t always greener of that which you cannot see – but you can dream.


Well today’s been a very emotional day.  Like a lot of my days, things that don’t bother most people can end up affecting me in a much deeper way.

Today I had my first taste of rejection since that conversation that took place almost a month ago.  I have once again tried internet dating, and yet again, have been disappointed.

Internet dating is the norm for those looking for a relationship nowadays.  Those of us who are too old to go round town clubbing, or choose not to because it’s just too bloody depressing seeing all those 16 year-olds wearing nothing but belts, which makes us shiver at the thought and wish we were tucked up in bed with a hot chocolate and a Puzzler.  I don’t know how people met before the internet, I’m guessing it was through classified ads in the local newspaper, which I also tried once and the highlight was meeting a guy who owned a fish and chip shop in Cleethorpes.

The problem with internet dating (and the internet in general, really), is that people feel able to communicate more openly through written media than they would if they had to speak to someone face to face.  You start by sending messages through the dating site, then maybe texting, followed by telephone calls, and finally meeting face to face, probably with some saucy messages thrown in.  By which point you feel like you’ve known that person years.  Well that’s how I’ve done it; maybe that is where I’m going wrong.

Because what happens is that you get caught up in the moment, and when you meet, and that little something just isn’t there, it is like being dropped from a great height.  That person liked your picture, liked your messages, but when it came to meeting, there just wasn’t that little something there.

It’s hard to be rejected this way, because it makes you wonder what is wrong with you.  Sometimes I wonder why I continue to internet date, since the first guy I met this way dumped me because he said I had no spark and was boring.  Unfortunately for me, I had only been separated a few months, was extremely vulnerable and begged him to take me back, which he did, only for the same thing to happen three more times.  Eventually I got wise, and dumped him, but only after I’d met somebody else.

I’ve come a long way since this happened two years ago, but I do wonder if I still haven’t found that spark.  Is there something missing from me?  Sometimes I do feel like my personality is being muted.  Am I holding back, scared to let the real me out?  Or worse – is this just the person I truly am?

It’s not just the rejection that has caused tears today.  Upon returning from my date, I received paperwork from the court regarding my divorce, which is now moving forward.  It is long overdue for this to happen, and I was the one who ended it, but becoming total strangers with the person you thought you would spend the rest of your life with is hard.

On a positive note, I’ve dejunked some of my bedroom.  Helped by my housemates, we moved a lot of the clutter in my bedroom out of there, taken photos of items that can be sold, moved some things to other places in the house, thrown some in the bin.  My room is still cluttered, but it’s getting there, and like my mind and my heart, the stuff I don’t need is gradually being coaxed out.

One more thing I’d like to discuss in this blog post.  I recently wrote a blog called Assumption: A Family Tree, where I talked about how assuming things gets me into a lot of trouble.  So I’d like to make a request.  I am able to view statistics for my blog, such as how many people have viewed it, per day, per blog, how they were referred ie Facebook or Twitter.  It also tells me if my blog was viewed following a Google search.  In the last month, my name has been Googled, and in the last five weeks, I have been Googled twenty times in various searches.  I know who I wish in my heart it was, although I realise it is not likely to be that person.  But since it’s driving me crazy, and I have no Poirot here to solve the mystery, all I can do is ask that whoever it is get it touch so I can put my mind at rest.  I promise not to reveal it on here.  It might seem like a crazy thing to ask, but I do like to know that people are reading my blog, so whether it’s somebody I know or not, get in touch and tell me what you think.