Day 20…

I have made a resolution to try and live the most normal a life as possible, to try my utmost to keep my conflicting emotions locked away while I go about my day and only let them spill out when I am with someone I completely trust. Which is a very short list at the moment.

I am very aware that this is possibly not the most healthy way to behave but at the moment it is the only way I am certain I can hold down a job, family and friends. If I allow myself to succumb to the sickening intensity of grief, confusion and anger that linger in my inner psyche at all times I fear they will drag me into a vortex of despair that I will never escape.

So I plod along.

Apart from the twins no one else knows about my recent contact with HIM, it was a lonely and difficult decision to decide not to confide in friends about it. Particularly Tessa. But there is such a feeling of intense shame that is associated with so many aspects of that situation I feel that the less I talk about it the more likely it is in weeks (oh who am I kidding…months) to come I may almost be able to convince myself it didn’t really happen. An agreed delusion: a type of social amnesia.

This decision however had enabled me to convince the rest of the world that since my arrest I had been coping quite well and had managed to even have some humour towards the situation (fake laughing at colleagues *hilarious* jokes about wanting to “Irish” up my coffee every morning has really giving me a new focus in the work place).

The twins have taken their own form of support, arriving home yesterday to find a customised Guy Fawkes with HIS name scrolled across the body was particularly inventive (and is it totally insane that I LOVED setting fire to it?!).  They have also decided to up their game when teasing me- I like to think that it is a distraction strategy but in reality I think they are completely sadistic – though unwrapping my entire make up case after they had wrapped every individual item in newspaper did keep me busy for a good hour!

I am very proud of how I am managing to portray myself as a functioning human being to the rest of the world when I am very aware that I still have a very long way to go before I am “over” this heartache. Will I ever be over it?

At the moment I can’t imagine a life when I don’t think about HIM all the time- both the good and the bad. I can’t imagine trusting someone else as completely as I did HIM. I can’t imagine looking into a different pair of eyes, saying “I love you” and knowing how much I mean it. I can’t imagine a time when I am not compelled to regularly drive past our old house.

I honestly feel as thought I am losing my mind. I am not acting like a rational, intelligent woman.

I cut all my hair short. He used to like it long- “that’ll teach him” I had thought.

Yep- definitely losing my mind.

Misty x


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Day 17…

For some unbeknown reason I still tried to defend HIM.

The twins, despite their penchant or teasing me, had had instantly developed the instinctual sibling protective gene when I had (unwillingly) confided in them about everything. I had never told anyone about what I did 3 years ago before.  They threatened to  enact every variant of medieval torture upon HIM while referring to him as any negative word they could come up with (I was actually quite impressed with the scope of their vocabulary when it came to insults); meanwhile I had sat there and tried in vain to make excuses.

I think on some level I needed to make myself feel better – trying to fathom some reason why this life mattered more than the one we were meant to have. The one I’ve secretly lit a candle for the last three years.

It was Emilia who had finally suggested looking back over old diary entries ” You need to look back Mist” she said “you need to view things in a more unbiased way”

God I hate it when my younger siblings know best.

Reliving that awful day and realising what I had written and how terribly I had felt made me realise that:

a) I would be fricking awesome in PR or politics as I definitely know how to put a positive spin on things.

b) HE is far from the charming prince I have chosen to remember him as.

It had been almost 24 hours since I had left him, alone and covered in ashes, when the phone rang.

He tried to make the same excuses I had tried to rationalize to the twins. But I had been bestowed with a renewed vigour. A strength of will and a refusal to be overcome with the idiocy that was the fact that, despite all these recent revelations and understandings, underneath it all. I still loved him.

I sat there and listened as the ridiculous justifications poured from his mouth.

Anger overcome me and as he finally asked “Misty are you still there?” after I had remained silent for his entire spiel, I managed to finally spit out

“I hope you’re happy”

Before hanging up the phone and going to sleep on the bed which still had an unopened silver rattle stored underneath.

Misty x


3 years ago…

Well it’s done. I suppose I should feel relieved it’s all over, everyone at the clinic were so nice and it was exactly like they said it would be: quick and painless.

“It’s just a little tadpole” the nurse had called it. It was meant to reassure me, like a tadpole was insignificant. Instead it made me think of something precious and fragile. Something to protect.

He had been wonderful obviously, had said all the right things. Totally my decision, he’ll support me whatever I decide. Yet he had made so many other little subtle comments about how young we were, and how we hadn’t been going out that long, and how it would definitely happen “one day”. And he seemed to convey through use of clever disguised words that “one day” was unequivocally not now. Not today.

If my intuition hadn’t already made it clear to me what his real thoughts on the situation were his enormous smile, bear hug and “ohhh Mist you’ll see it’ll be for the best- maybe we can go skiing in a few weeks now” after I had suggested the procedure had definitely cemented it in my mind.

Skiing! Like I wanted to be jovial and celebrate the whole thing- quick let’s hit the slopes now there’s no baby to damage or save for!

I had tossed and turned over the decision but what else could I do? Forcing a baby onto a father that had made it clear he wasn’t ready wouldn’t be fair on anyone.

I went to the clinic.

He came with me and held my hand, he stroked my hair and asked me if I wanted magazines. Yet not once did he ask me “are you sure?”…even when I stared at the exit with heavy tears in my eyes.

After it was over he kissed my forehead and took me home so I could rest.

 He went into the living room and put on the TV and started giggling at a comedy: completely unaware that I was using the pillow to stifle my relentless sobs.

Misty x

The rest of day 16…

The words had barley escaped his lips and already I had dove at him throwing myself into a flurry of passion and thoughtlessness, allowing myself to become lost in his embrace, in his perfect kiss. The tears were still rushing furiously down my face, but now they were tears of joy and relief. He was kissing me; trailing his hands down my spine letting me ruffle his soft hair, listening to him as he continued to whisper “I Love you’s” in each gasp for breath.

I allowed myself to get sucked into 8 glorious minutes of pure, carnal passion before a shear shard of emotion pierced through my minds eye like a lightning bolt. I suddenly saw HER face.

I pushed him off me.

“How can you possibly love me when you chose her” I said, my rollercoaster of emotion swiftly landing me back into anger.

“I didn’t Mist…it wasn’t like that…I wish I could take the one stupid night back. The one that changed everything!” he replied

“What are you talking about? it was going on for weeks- she messaged me, you admitted it”

“Look you’ve got it all wrong. We got together once at that party, you know the time, you and I had a row…I’m not making excuses but that’s just what happened. What happened the last few weeks though it wasn’t an affair Misty. I need you to understand this. I thought you hated me but now I know you love me… we can work this out”

“Work what out!? You asked her to marry you! have you completely lost your min -you cheated on me, threw all our memories into a little box room and when I left you didn’t even have the balls to chase after me” I retorted

“I didn’t think I had a chance! I didn’t CHOOSE her Misty. It was circumstances” he said

“Oh well that’s ok then! Please enlighten me what set of bloody circumstances makes it perfectly reasonable for you to propose to another girl yet now that I’ve kissed you think that we can live happily ever after?”

“Look Misty…it’s hard…I had to keep seeing her, talking to her, trying to sort things out.”

“Sorting what out exactly, what was left to sort out after your sordid night? And why does that require a proposal?”

“Misty….she’s pregnant with my baby” he said.

It was as though I had an outer body experience, before I was aware of what was even going on I had stood up reached over to the counter and grabbed the urn containing his mothers ashes and hurled it as hard as I could at the wall. I wanted him to feel pain and loss. Raw, deep, primal emotional pain. Like I was.

I didn’t even hear his response I ran to my car with that last image seared into my mind. HIM, covered in soft grey ash, sat in a room littered with photos of our memories. A room that would soon become a nursery.

I made it all the way to my bed before I was violently sick.

Misty x