Remember the Alamo
Well, looks like the line has been drawn in the sand. After prostrating myself on and off for months in an effort to at least consider the possibility of some form of reconciliation, it's sad, but obvious I wasted my time. I knew this a long time ago of course, but I REALLY fucking hate to quit/ admit failure. I guess, though, that's just my foolish pride when the truth is, the mind entertained the idea of moving on a long time ago.
13 years was kinda worth fighting for, non? or was it merely - as Aussie John would be saying - was it merely just chronology? Does that then make, say, a 7 year marriage less worth fighting for in the modern world (it's only half the period, right)? Or does the "Marriage" tag attach any greater sense of value/ dilemma to the proceedings than if you're just girlfriend-boyfriend? Some would definitely agree on the latter point. But who's the judge anyway. And what if you added both scenarios together. 13yr relationship + 7 year marriage? Do they cancel each other out?? And become value-less.
I am only judging my own dilemma and set of values. My dilemma was this. For better or for worse, I loved this stupid cow. I remained committed to 'flogging this dead horse' because I said I would. And its hard now to (want to) let that feeling slip away, but inevitably it has, with the passing of time. I already feel it's happened. Give it up Nick. you did your best; it just didn't turn out to be good enough this time. There have got to be dozens of girls in London alone who would love you more, for who you are and what you have to offer. "Just too different"; "Just too many issues"; "Maybe it's for the best" - how about just too many fucking cliches, and not enough real consideration of what has happened and what is really being blown into the ether here.
The scariest of all prospects is not, actually parting from J. It's that I wake up and one half of my life, chronologically, and even more emotionally might just as well have never happened. Gone. blown away by the sands of time. But my ingrained optimism (thanks Dad!) dictates that I will find a silver lining, or create one for myself - and sooner rather than later.
My own line in the sand would certainly have been different, given the opportunity to have exercised that right, but it might very possibly have been foolish (pride) to do so. William Travis had the right idea down at the Alamo. But then he and all his men got slaughtered. Foolish pride! deadly foolish ...
Sunday, August 26, 2007
Wanna forget all Your troubles, forget all your cares? Then go down to annas, and spend 8hrs de-stoning and levelling her backyard. This pic was 3hrs in, hence the smile. Looking forward to playing championship level bowls on that lawn when its laid . . . Or else! Welcome break from my Uncomfortable numbness if am honest.
Saturday, August 25, 2007
Wednesday, August 22, 2007
To Sleep, perchance to dream
Me and Anna returning to earth, after our ringside seats to Prince gig, London
We didn't dream when we bought our £35 tickets a few weeks before the gig (after being told weeks earlier that he'd sold out) that our seats would be 20 metres back from stage. Good job, anna. Great job Prince! As awesome as he was back in '92/ '93. Aauwah!
I would never advocate wishing one's life away, however all I have wanted to do is go to sleep and wake up 2 years from now. I could never have dreamt in my worst nightmare that I would find myself where I am right now. The job is a total nightmare - thrown in completely at the deep end in outpatients (the complex physio, arguably, due to the variety of patient - anyone who walks in off the street - and your need to have a photographic memory of the entire body and every special assessment test that exists). And not just any outpatients department; only an extremely busy and understaffed Central London acute department. Baptism of Fire. I want to sleep a thousand years and wake up experienced. No can do! Do or Die.
My 'induction' to the new career is helped in no way whatsoever by the final and (not-so-abrupt at the end of the day) ending of my 13 year relationship (16 if you count our university friendship). From this experience, I would like to run, hide, sleep .. and not wake up at all .. or wake up to find it was all one long, horrible dream (the break-down that is, not the relationship, although ... having said that - if it had never happened I might have avoided the stinging, gnawing pain that accompanied the demise). I've been so relieved to reach bed-time every day and so gutted to wake up. But it's passing.
I have always struggled to reconcile writing what I am thinking here, and writing what I think is appropriate to share. And I've said several times that this is no place for throwing mud. There are two sides to every sorry tale and it's not fair to have only one version of events portrayed here. It takes two, baby and, honestly, by the end I was as miserable as Jo (even more so than her, if her 'mercy-killing' justification for the dumping is to believed. Bit late in the day for administering such magnanimous favours in my opinion, but there you go).
The one difference I have taken exception to, is that I was ready to bend over backwards, absorb still more pain and misery in order to revisit and re-explore the issues to find a way to save our marriage. Not because my love is blind to the myriad of problems we had, but because I hate to quit. We weren't even allowed to try counselling for fuck's sake. Oops a little frustration slipping out. Don't worry, I'll sleep it off. If that's your threshold, just as well you (claim you) are never going have kids of your own. How on earth would we have dealt with the misery of our child contracting cancer? being born with a defect? or worse, being kidnapped and/ or killed? Misery?! We don't know the meaning of the word, but god forbid life and relationship conflict should get in the way of 24hr fun. I HAVE slept off most of the frustration ... promise!
I am definitely not blameless, and in no way want to make it appear so. I just don't understand why it wasn't worth fighting for, like i thought it appropriate to. I guess some things are worth fighting for, but that in this instance "we" didn't fall into that category.
Charity begins at home. I know this and have striven to live as such for years. Try not to judge; treat others how you would like to be treated. But I am human and paper thin frail as my relationship turned out to be because, when I get a moment to myself, I am ashamed to say that a small part of me finds myself day-dreaming and hoping that she regrets her decision for the rest of her life. I won't always feel this way of course; it's a pain response. I've been wounded and time heals everything. But for now I go to sleep mourning the family I always dreamed there would be in the end. But there is no family; not even a marriage anymore; only the end. And hopefully just a quick and painful end of a bright new beginning.
Me and Anna returning to earth, after our ringside seats to Prince gig, LondonWe didn't dream when we bought our £35 tickets a few weeks before the gig (after being told weeks earlier that he'd sold out) that our seats would be 20 metres back from stage. Good job, anna. Great job Prince! As awesome as he was back in '92/ '93. Aauwah!
I would never advocate wishing one's life away, however all I have wanted to do is go to sleep and wake up 2 years from now. I could never have dreamt in my worst nightmare that I would find myself where I am right now. The job is a total nightmare - thrown in completely at the deep end in outpatients (the complex physio, arguably, due to the variety of patient - anyone who walks in off the street - and your need to have a photographic memory of the entire body and every special assessment test that exists). And not just any outpatients department; only an extremely busy and understaffed Central London acute department. Baptism of Fire. I want to sleep a thousand years and wake up experienced. No can do! Do or Die.
My 'induction' to the new career is helped in no way whatsoever by the final and (not-so-abrupt at the end of the day) ending of my 13 year relationship (16 if you count our university friendship). From this experience, I would like to run, hide, sleep .. and not wake up at all .. or wake up to find it was all one long, horrible dream (the break-down that is, not the relationship, although ... having said that - if it had never happened I might have avoided the stinging, gnawing pain that accompanied the demise). I've been so relieved to reach bed-time every day and so gutted to wake up. But it's passing
I have always struggled to reconcile writing what I am thinking here, and writing what I think is appropriate to share. And I've said several times that this is no place for throwing mud. There are two sides to every sorry tale and it's not fair to have only one version of events portrayed here. It takes two, baby and, honestly, by the end I was as miserable as Jo (even more so than her, if her 'mercy-killing' justification for the dumping is to believed. Bit late in the day for administering such magnanimous favours in my opinion, but there you go).
The one difference I have taken exception to, is that I was ready to bend over backwards, absorb still more pain and misery in order to revisit and re-explore the issues to find a way to save our marriage.
Charity begins at home. I know this and have striven to live as such for years. Try not to judge; treat others how you would like to be treated. But I am human and paper thin frail as my relationship turned out to be because, when I get a moment to myself, I am ashamed to say that a small part of me finds myself day-dreaming and hoping that she regrets her decision for the rest of her life. I won't always feel this way of course; it's a pain response. I've been wounded and time heals everything. But for now I go to sleep mourning the family I always dreamed there would be in the end. But there is no family; not even a marriage anymore; only the end. And hopefully just a quick and painful end of a bright new beginning.
Monday, August 13, 2007
I'm a winner baby!
Just got back from Heather and Reka's wedding in California to a message, informing me that the supporters' magazine I edit ('Capital' the quarterly magazine for Capital Canaries, an official Norwich City F.C. supporters group) has won the APFSCIL "Newsletter of the Year" award. With 50 supporters clubs registered in APFSCIL, this was quite a satisfying little accomplishment to add to the bottom far corner of the CV! And perhaps, the tiniest of sprouts of a 3rd career if physio doesn't work out ;0)
Nick Seecharan, Editor of 'Capital' - APFSCIL Newsletter of the Year, 2006-07
: - )
Just got back from Heather and Reka's wedding in California to a message, informing me that the supporters' magazine I edit ('Capital' the quarterly magazine for Capital Canaries, an official Norwich City F.C. supporters group) has won the APFSCIL "Newsletter of the Year" award. With 50 supporters clubs registered in APFSCIL, this was quite a satisfying little accomplishment to add to the bottom far corner of the CV! And perhaps, the tiniest of sprouts of a 3rd career if physio doesn't work out ;0)
Nick Seecharan, Editor of 'Capital' - APFSCIL Newsletter of the Year, 2006-07
: - )
Saturday, August 11, 2007
Slideshow pending ... belowWednesday, August 01, 2007
Go West!
Go West. well you can't; but don't worry, I'll do it for you. And I am going all the way. West Coast baby.
A horrible, fraught 3 days coming back from france and having 3 days to close down rehab job/ handover and prepare for wedding in California. Capped off tonight when my suit bag got caught in my front wheel (cycling back from other side of town where I'd sourced an eco friendly dry cleaner - there's a normal one 3 mins walk from my door!) and ejected me (literally) about 1ft over my handle bars and 3 ft in front of my bike - on the entrance to a busy roundabout. (Un)luckily, my (now very painful) ankle must have got caught in frame as bike followed me and it ended up on top of me, pinning me to the ground. Got helped (scraped off the road?!) by two very friendly locals of that area, and am pleased to report that am neither disfigured, nor sitting in a fracture clinic. My helmet and (preternaturally tough?) wrists appear to have taken the brunt of the impact, but as the evening wears on, above said wrists and ankle are getting more and more sore (dull ache); the bruising in both palms starting to look real peachy, and nothing drastic-sympathy earning to show except a few cuts and grazes to the right palm, forearm, elbow and knee. Pelvis starting to ache too from the unwelcome first attempt at a triple salcho! My guess is that the most common 'last words' in any human language would translate roughly as "What the F**k?" .. before you make impact with that deck (in my case the road surface) that is fast accelerating towards you. I heard everything slows down and your life flashes before you. Not so in my case, had there been any fast moving traffic behind me - just "What the Fu*k?!" .. SPLAT!
Ouch. gonna hurt in the morning. Let's hope the trip to sunny california tomorrow eases the pain.
Adios Amigos! Or should I say, until we meet again, since this time I can! x
Go West. well you can't; but don't worry, I'll do it for you. And I am going all the way. West Coast baby.
A horrible, fraught 3 days coming back from france and having 3 days to close down rehab job/ handover and prepare for wedding in California. Capped off tonight when my suit bag got caught in my front wheel (cycling back from other side of town where I'd sourced an eco friendly dry cleaner - there's a normal one 3 mins walk from my door!) and ejected me (literally) about 1ft over my handle bars and 3 ft in front of my bike - on the entrance to a busy roundabout. (Un)luckily, my (now very painful) ankle must have got caught in frame as bike followed me and it ended up on top of me, pinning me to the ground. Got helped (scraped off the road?!) by two very friendly locals of that area, and am pleased to report that am neither disfigured, nor sitting in a fracture clinic. My helmet and (preternaturally tough?) wrists appear to have taken the brunt of the impact, but as the evening wears on, above said wrists and ankle are getting more and more sore (dull ache); the bruising in both palms starting to look real peachy, and nothing drastic-sympathy earning to show except a few cuts and grazes to the right palm, forearm, elbow and knee. Pelvis starting to ache too from the unwelcome first attempt at a triple salcho! My guess is that the most common 'last words' in any human language would translate roughly as "What the F**k?" .. before you make impact with that deck (in my case the road surface) that is fast accelerating towards you. I heard everything slows down and your life flashes before you. Not so in my case, had there been any fast moving traffic behind me - just "What the Fu*k?!" .. SPLAT!
Ouch. gonna hurt in the morning. Let's hope the trip to sunny california tomorrow eases the pain.
Adios Amigos! Or should I say, until we meet again, since this time I can! x
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