As side effects go.

So, two days into the medicine taking route, I feel as though I am doing something. I tell myself that it is too soon to feel better, that the medicine can't work that quickly, funny how the side effects can kick in that quickly though isn't it? Yesterday, I woke up at 8am went back to bed at 9am, woke up at 11 am, went back to bed at 3pm, woke up at 5.30 pm, went back to bed at 11pm and woke up this morning at hmmm, was it 8am or 9am? 9 I think. I did wake up at 4am, hung out some laundry on the line, stepped on a slug in my bare feet, washed my foot ( just the one) and went back to bed again.
That's some drowsiness right there, yes, we ticked THAT box.
This morning, at 9.30am as I was ironing, about 15 minutes in I froze as I felt that oh so familiar and miserable, miserable feeling, that prick pricking of sweat on my scalp, the creeping hot clinging feeling of heat over my scalp.
Yes, sweating, my one true hate, we can check that box.
Eating....well, so far that seems great because all day, all the long day I have a low grade nausea, not enough to make me miserable but just enough to stop me wanting to eat. YEEHAW!!
Nausea, tick that box too but I don't dislike this one. Actually, today I began to feel as though I shall soon be able to think about food again, proper food, good food, food that takes thinking and planning about, food that makes me feel better. I had lost that way back, right when this stint of black holeyness began.
I realised last night when this began in earnest. It was when I was told that I had to have yet another tribunal. As soon as I got that letter my mind began to delve into the whys and wherefores of being so sad, of feeling so hopeless, it's always so sneaky, so sly, so all encompassing without you being aware that this is happening.
On the way to the tribunal when my mum came with me, she asked a question, One I can't even remember, I can though, remember the answer.
I told her that my very soul feels like a failure. That I look at my big children and feel as though I failed them so horribly that I let them down so badly I will never be able to make it up to them. I felt so badly about it that now I feel unable to do anything important with my little children, that I leave the teaching to H because I was so useless.
Telling her that surprised me because I hadn't consciously realised it until the words fell out of my mouth, that meant that I was able to change that and allow myself to be more involved in the real lives of the boys, rather than the behind the scenes, cleaning, feeding, watching from afar role I had placed myself in.
The difference in the boys, in how I feel about them and how they behave has been incredible, they are divine, I enjoy them more and more every day.
More often they say things like " Oh I love you mummy, you are the best mummy in the world" and I believe them. This morning Isaac said " I love you, I never ever want you to die." Me either.
I had somehow told myself that what I had done to my big kids was done, I had to try not to keep thinking about it and try not to do it again with the little ones.
Yesterday, quite out of the blue, I thought of something. I thought about these big children of mine and oh my goodness if they aren't all completely splendid. I understood this, my children have been though terrible things. I didn't do those things to them. I wasn't able to stop those things happening and the truth is, if things were to happen all over again, the chances are I would do everything exactly the same way because I did everything the way I thought was right.
Despite them having experienced those awful things, somehow they are remarkable people. Not just OK, not pretty nice, they are absolutely and completely gloriously great.
I DID do that.
I don't take full credit because I am 100% sure that when it mattered, the angels picked me up, put me where I needed to be, told me what to say and what to do and I did it.
On my own.
When I look back to those times, when the boys were little and so damaged, when Sophie was on the road to hell, I simply cannot imagine how I did what I did. I don't know how I lived through it all, how I said and did what I did. Except I wasn't alone, not really. Not at all.
I think, at last, I have managed to let go of all that guilt. The guilt that everyone has always told me was not mine to hold onto.
Yesterday I answered a post on a debate board, a post that made me feel so passionately about something that I typed what I felt and was done.
Slowly, something began to happen and it has made the most enormous difference to how I feel about myself.
I started getting emails, messages, replies, more emails and calls from people, I don't think any of them knew that they weren't the only one to write to me, every one was so personal, so sincere, so totally from the heart and every single one.....every one told me what a great mother I am.
My whole day was filled with people saying the same thing, from my 5 year old boy who sat next to me as we drove to the grocery store together, telling me he is so happy he came to our family and how I am the best mummy in the whole world, to people who have met me, who know my children , to people who have never met me, never met my children...each one saying the same thing and not one of those messages was a trite 'this is what she wants to hear' one.
Everyone of those emails, each message, each phone call and heartfelt note is printed in my heart and each one chiseled away a little bit more of that hideous self doubt and belief that somehow I screwed up.
I only have to look at these children of mine to see that I must have done something so right, so better than OK to have these people before me, so hard working, so kind and generous, so funny and friendly, so loving and upstanding..that didn't happen by accident.
Go me.
I don't remember reading on the medication pamphlet a side effect of seeing things clearly for the first time in 20 years....but I am so glad that I seem to have that one, that even after 2 days I see it and believe it.
Thank God for that and whatever comes next ( only please can we skip the sweating? Please, that'd be great. Thank you.)

At the side of the road.

Yesterday, I set out at 7am on a road to trip to the London temple.
If I start to explain all about the temple, this post will be so long it'd take 3 hours longer to read it ( and it's going to be a long one to start with) and I would forget so many important facts and details it could end in tears. That's not what this post is all about. This post is, of course, all about ME.
I was going to the temple because I haven't been for a long time ( since H and I were sealed over 2 years ago) and also because yesterday was a date set for all the women in our area, who belong to the LDS church to travel together for the day, attend a meeting inside the temple, have lunch together, have fun and replenish our spiritual batteries together. Perfect.
Now, I will say this about the temple, when you walk into the building, from outside where the weight of the world can bow you down, the feeling is like none other. It is akin to the warmest fire on the coldest day, the softest bed on the most wearying night. It is all encompassing, uplifting, calming. It is truly the Lord's house. I like that feeling.
It is also a place where incredible work is done. That's all. If I start to explain the work...we're back to me missing things and leading away from the things I want to say.
The first thing I will say is that I really don't like coach trips, in a smaller way than flying it gives me that claustrophobic feeling of being STUCK....get me out! I also suffer from travel sickness on coaches. Blargh...coaches are stuffy and hot and I don't like them much at all. So, my friends and I, just 4 of us decided that we would travel by car together, have a really great day and go at our own pace, meet up for lunch with all the others and then travel back at our own pace, stopping where we fancy and arriving home happy and smug, with none of that weary feeling coach travellers suffer.
Great plan! We decided that we would go in Sara's car because hers is biggest and she has Savannah who is 3 months old, more room for car seats and baby bags and us and our bags of picnic and spare clothes.
Sara came to get me at 7am and I felt a little nostalgic as her car is so similar to my old rust bucket, that faithful old crap heap that carried my family and me around for all those years, moved furniture from many old houses to many new houses, took us all from pillar to post and back again, cost me several hundreds of pounds if not thousands in petrol and repairs and eventually died of a broken head gasket right before we went to America for a 3 week holiday of a lifetime. Bloody thing.

We went to collect Naomi, mother of 4, and Gemma, mother of my 3 great nephews, which means she is my niece. We arrived at Gemma's to see her ex husband loading the kids into his car, so we sat outside for a few minutes trying to decide what name best suits him, Knob was the winner by the way, good job we were headed to the Lord's house where we would be sure to repent, probably although we didn't really feel terribly sorry because he really IS a Knob.

Off we went and 3 minutes into the journey, Sara said " So, anyone got a map?"

That is so Sara, I have never met anyone quite like Sara, mother of 5. She is 26 and Jack, her oldest child is 6, Savannah is 3 months, Amber, Aimee and Seth are in between. They are quite beautiful and extraordinary children, Jack makes my Seth look like an imbecile, he has been reading fluently from the age of about 5 months, he is a college professor in a little fair haired, brainy headed body.
Amber is equally bright and equally beautiful, Aimee is like my Eli, she is so typically normal and delicious and the prettiest daintiest of girlies.
Seth, well he is nearly 2. Last year he had liver cancer, hepatoblastoma. He had 70% of his liver removed, 70%.
This year, he has no sign of cancer, his liver has completely regrown, he is fit and healthy and he is a living sign that with God, nothing is impossible. He almost died, but he didn't, when he had an intensive chemotherapy his hair grew, he grew, he showed us all that all things can be endured with a smile. Extraordinary child, with an extraordinary mother ( and father but he didn't come yesterday, he stayed home with 4 children and said "Sara, it's 4 children? What's the problem...GO!")
Sara is so laid back she leaves us all speechless, I suspect she does all she does because the small stuff? Meh....doesn't matter. She's awesome. ( check my whole blog and see is I EVER use that word...you'll find I don't, if I am using it now, it's because I mean it and can't think of a single other word that will do instead)

I sat in the front of the car with Sara and we talked non stop as she drove. We stopped half way at some services and had a wee, bought some snacks and warmed a bottle for Savannah who hadn't made a sound so far on the journey. She was fed and strapped back into her seat and off we went again.
20 minutes up the road Sara said "Hmmm, look the oil light is flashing, that doesn't seem like a good thing does it?"
" No, I don't think that should happen was our helpful reply, followed by various mechanical suggestions like " ooh look, the engine light is on as well, maybe the lights are just not working" and " Andy put oil in, he maybe put too much in and the car doesn't like it, he may have spilled some and that's why we can smell burning? "
Then...'Actually I have my foot flat to the floor and I'm only doing 60 mph..oh 50....uh oh 20'....Damn.
Followed by "SMOKE!! Get the BABY OUT!"

There followed 3 hours of waiting. It began with much hilarity, as is our wont, faced with crapola, laugh about it...that small stuff? Meh.



We called from the roadside SOS phone because we are women, none of us knew where we were, using that phone they can tell US, while Gemma called, using her roadside recovery, they told her that they could see us via the video camera and GET THOSE OTHER PEOPLE AWAY FROM THE CAR!!!!!



Because we are great under stress, we forgot we had cell phones to call each other and so Gemma had to RUN and snatch them from the very jaws of death..RUN GEMMA! RUN!!!


After 45 minutes an RAC man arrived. Because I have such old cruddy cars I am well acquainted with RAC men, pretty much every one I have met has been a veritable joy to see. happy and helpful, quick and always go beyond the call of duty. Not this one.


He was the least helpful, least cheerful, most deserving of a smack in the mouth RAC man I have ever encountered, he told Sara that her car was indeed very dead ( from the obviously hereditary blown up head gasket disease) and that he couldn't tow it because it had to go on the back of a big truck. Another truck would be here in 30 minutes. He told us that for the next 2 1/2 hours and that is pretty much all he told us, apart from he couldn't help, he could tow us 10 miles or nowhere, there was no way we could upgrade or pay extra, nothing he would or could do and someone else would be here in 30 minutes.
The picture I took of him is of his back because his face made me want to punch it, on the way to the Lord's house or not, that was a face to slap for sure.

Right after we called the SOS phone people the police arrived, having had a call to report a car on fire.....they were cheery and helpful, gave us space blankets to keep us warm and told us that help would be here in 30 minutes but maybe the fire brigade would be here before then because a fire had been reported.




Gemma came alive at that bit of news and did her make up, right there, right then...be prepared.
Bloody liars all, because we saw neither hide nor hair or any hulking fire men, could have been burned to a crisp right there and they could have cared. Darn video camera must have reported that we weren't ablaze after all.




3 hours. We caught the sun....we are all aglow and healthy looking. I must say though that if you plan to sit by the road for several hours, don't wear a skirt and support tights, really. Don't.




This baby, this teeny little 10lber Savannah, didn't make a sound, she slept and woke, she smiled and slept, she snuggled and was probably the most perfect baby in the world. She is her mother's daughter, what a delight!





Eventually a cheerful chap arrived, a rough looking, bald headed, smiley faced knight in a big old truck. In minutes ( more than 30 but less than 3 hours) we were loaded up and all of us laughing and exclaiming about how WARM it was and how SOFT these seats were, we joked and felt so happy to be on our way to Surrey at last.

When we arrived at the temple, after a 2 hour trip in the bumpy truck with seats that only felt soft for about 15 minutes and then were very very hard and bum achey, the driver said "Hey! I know this place...you're pne of THOSE! My ex wife was one of THOSE, she was a good girl she was, Theresa, she's called. Oh no...did I swear? If I had known you were one of THOSE, I wouldn't have? Did I say anything I shouldn't have because you are good girls, you're all lovely you are, you've all made my day"
I am proud to be one of THOSE ... I hope we didn't say or do anything to make him ever think THOSE are anything but good people.

We had missed the lunch and we were running so late but we so wanted to just be there, just meet up and see people, just get into the temple for an hour.
We arrived at 3.10pm, the bus back was leaving at 4pm. We had time to run into the shop, buy a few bits and bobs, have a wee and get on the bus and come home.
We received much sympathy and there were plenty of ' oh no! Poor you! ' comments but you know what? None of us felt hard done by, not at all.
I had had quite the most incredible day. I spoke to Sara about things that we both felt during times of such distress, we both admitted to knowing without doubt that when times should have been the darkest, we were lifted, when things should have been unbearable, we were calm.
We spoke of angels and we bore testimony of knowing the God lives.
I learned things about me that I hadn't realised. I learned things about Sara that are not obvious to us as we meet up and watch what is happening.
I felt that the whole day was as it should be, I wasn't at all worried that I had missed anything, I didn't for a second feel as though the day was wasted.
I loved that when I got on the coach people wanted me to sit with them, people said they wanted a laugh and they wanted me to provide it.


We did laugh, most of the way home, until we stopped at the services ( same one as on the way up) When we had eaten and were on our way again, I told my friends that I was going to listen to my iPod and some of the music that H had downloaded for me.
The thing about iPods, good ones, is that when those headphones go in, the world is shut out, the quality of music is incredible and the music fills your soul ( unless is jazz music, in which case it would make you want to punch someone very hard, I imagine, I'd better not ever find out on my iPod because I HATE jazz music)
That's when the tears started.
The words of the songs I was listening to touched the very part of me I try not to visit. I don't want to feel the raw emotions that those songs brought out.








I learned, beginning at the side of the road and ending on the bus home, all the reasons I am sad inside all the time. I understood why I avoid places that will make me feel.
I knew at once why I am distant with the boys, why I walk away when H is reading scripture and telling stories to the boys of gospel principles. I know now why I am the way I am.
I started to cry on the bus, I cried myself to sleep, I howled when I woke up, I sobbed when I got to church, I sat in the car and I cried some more, I came home and went to bed and I woke up and am crying again.
The tears are healing the last part of my sadness.
I have spoken to Howard and he held me, I explained what I have been feeling and he corrected me.
I spoke to my dearest friend Jane and she helped me see how things are rather than how I was seeing them, I called my mum and she told me her thoughts.
I have mourned for all the things I can't change. I have accepted that I have made huge mistakes and that as sad as that is, I can't undo them. I can ensure that I don't make them again, I understand that all the things I have been doing, or not doing with the boys are a result of feeling as though I have failed my big children.
I have felt so desperately that I did it all wrong with my older children, especially Sophie, that I had to stay way from the little ones in all things that mattered, I have fed, clothed, kissed, played and I have run away from anything spiritual, I have stood back and allowed H to do all those things that I felt I have failed at.
I never taught Sophie that she is of such infinite worth that she should always treasure who and what she is, I didn't show her that she should stand tall and dare to be different, that all that she is should be celebrated, that no-one deserves to touch her unless he is worthy of her. I didn't help her see that she is priceless and worth more than some scum who tells her what he thinks she wants to hear in order to get what he wants.
I have watched her sell her soul for drugs and while I understand that she chose to do that, I didn't do whatever it took to teach her that this is not ever a path to go down, that drugs and drink are never the answer. How does she not know about prayer and about faith? How did I never show her what really matters?
The answer to all my questions is 'who knows?' What matters is that she is not dead, she is right here and every day, somehow she is moving towards a place where she knows exactly what she is worth. Every day I see more and more that she sees what is important, that she understands she is loved and that she deserves every scrap of real love that comes her way. It is not to late to teach her, to show her, to love her until she gets it, until she knows that she is priceless and worthy of every great and glorious blessing.
It's time to let go of all that sadness and for me to stop hiding from anything that makes me feel any kind of emotion, I know I can give these little boys, with H everything they need, I know that I did everything I knew how to do for my big children. I only have to look at them, all of them, to see that even if I made mistakes, I did a whole load of things right, they are divine, they are happy and well, they are good and upright human beings and I did that.
I deserve to be their mother. That's enough.
I learned all this at the side of the road, was yesterday a wasted day? I say not.
Does the Lord know what we need and how to give that to us? Absolutely.
I know that. That's more than enough.
What a day. Mother's day. Indeed.

Just walk away.

When I was 15, I was bullied, horribly bullied. I was incredibly naive, innocent and lived a glorious sheltered life.
I signed up for a Duke of Edinburgh award scheme, I forget exactly what it entailed but it was a lot about passing tests and challenges. One challenge was to go camping, for 2 nights I think, with the bare essentials and survive. Oh how I hated the thought of doing that, even way back when, I hated to be cold, uncomfortable and this was not my idea of fun at all, to pass the test I had to do it though, no alternatives, do it or fail.
I signed up with 2 girls, one a friend and the other was HER friend, I really didn't know this girl except that she was worldly and so far from anything I knew that she was a little intimidating, nevertheless, I loved the other girl, Debbie, who I spent a lot of time with, I had been to her home and her family was as ordinary as mine, it would be fine.
We set off on our trip and as the evening began, as it started to get dark, to my absolute terror, I discovered that Debbie and the other girl ( whose name is forever branded into my mind and heart but is so unusual if I even write the first name, she would be led right here if she were to google her own name and I am still a big poopie panty scaredy cat when it comes to this girl ..ha! She is 47 now, some girl! ) well, anyway they had arranged for the mean girls boyfriend and HIS friends to come out to where we were camping ( in the middle of nowhere, on the moors, as stipulated by the rules of the D of E awards scheme 1977) scary girl was going out with a BIKER! In his TWENTIES! and his friends were also bikers, they were bringing alcohol and who knows what else and I was told that I had better join in...or else.
I was such a good girl, I really was, I knew nothing of any of this side of life, I didn't want to know I was so afraid of what would happen and I knew I had to get away from there.
No cell phones, no public phones, no farmhouses, no civilisation, for miles.
My only choice was to walk home ( Have I ever mentioned my sense of direction? No? That would be because I don't have one, at all, none. On tuesday I went to a Mall in Plymouth, a new one I have been to 3 times, I split up from Sophie, Jordan and Mel to go and get some shoes for Isaac, when I came out of the shop I was totally lost, I could not find my way out of that mall to save my life, I went upstairs, downstairs, this way and that and it took me a very long time to get out and find the kids) anyhoo, I left, I walked the way I felt was right and I prayed and I sang hymns all the way along that pitch black road, in the middle of the moors, I sang and I prayed and I sang and I wept and the angels led me home. I walked a mile or 3 and then I saw a phone box, I called my dad and he came to get me. I was safe.
Of course, I had to explain why I had done what I had done, my parents were proud ( and I suspect terrified at all the 'could have beens') and on the following monday they took me to school and they told the head teacher what had happened.
There followed the mos miserable time of my life, to this day the smell of a school makes my bowels turn to water, I heave at the thought of senior school.
Scary girl was mad. She was very, very mad. I have no idea what her parents said or did ( very little I expect) but she failed her D of E and was punished by the school.
She was a mean looking girl, black died hair, pinched face with a long thin nose and nails like witches talons, those were long filed nails and even today I can feel them.
She was scary to many people in the school and as a result of her being mad at me, anyone who was afraid of her was told that if they spoke to me, looked at me or even stood in the same vicinity as me, they would suffer. Then she showed everyone what they would suffer and she did it often, with such delight. She would seek me out and she would grab my neck with her nails and she would punch my face, she would laugh as she did it and she would ask if anyone else wanted some of it.
Every single girl that had been in the least friendly with me would turn her back if I walked into a room, they would either all start this horrendous fake cackling laugh and point at me, or they would ignore me completely. One or two of them would look at me with an apologetic look or a shrug that would almost beg me to understand and I did to a certain extent. Oh but at 15 it hurt my heart so much more than the long nails or the punches to my face.
I didn't tell anyone at home what was happening because I knew that my dad would be at the school immediately and I thought I knew where that would lead, look what was happening because I did that once.
The boys were wonderful, they don't get drawn into stupid girls nonsense the same way, they had no axe to grind and they weren't afraid of scary girl. So they would let me sit with them at break time, I went home for lunch ( and that was torturous because I would have to go back again after lunch). One day I was sitting in the form room with the boys, we were chatting and laughing and in walks mean girl. She walked right up to me, grabbed my throat with those talon like nails of iron and she punched and she punched and she punched some more. This time while she was squeezing my neck and punching she was screaming in my face " Hit me back you bitch! What's wrong with you! WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU....HIT ME BACK you STUPID COW!" and I sat there, not even flinching and as her face got redder and redder and she became more and more irate I just sat there and I became more and more calm. I stood up, I flicked her off me as if she were naught but an irritating bug and I said ( very softly and very calmly) " No, I will not hit you back because if I did that I would run the risk of looking as ugly, as out of control and as stupid as you look right now" and then I turned and I walked away.
I went right the tuck shop where my one and only remaining friend worked at break time, she took one look at me, saw my beaten face and my bleeding neck and she knew what had happened ( as well as the grapevine that had sped along throughout the school) she didn't say a word , she just looked at me and shook her head and mouthed the words "I can't"
Something in me crumpled right then and I left the tuck shop and I walked out of school, I walked home and when my mum looked at me as I walked in, I merely said " I have left school, I am not going back, nothing you can say or do will convince me to ever go back, I will explain once, to you and the school and then I won't ever talk about it again, just know that I mean what I say, I will never ever go back to school."
I forget where the meeting was held, our house, the school, who cares, I do know that I must have shown that I meant what I said and they believed me.
I was in the final months of school about to take the exams that everyone told me were so inportant, that I would need to be anything or get anywhere in life. Incredibly the school said that I could study at home, work would be dropped off and I could go to school for the exams, I was given a timetable and that is exactly what I did. I went to school , walked into an exam, took them and left.
I passed 11 of those exams, at the ripe old age of 15 and a half.
I trained as an orthopedic nurse at the age of 17-19 and got the letters D.O.N after my name.
I have never been bullied again.I have been so blessed to have real friends. True friends. All my adult life I have been loved and accepted, cherished and beloved by some really great people, men and women.
Many have stayed friends with me for more than 30 years, some have been friends and then somehow the friendships just fizzle out, no sadness just nothing in common anymore and they run out of juice. 3 times the friendships have ended in a spectacular way.
Three times. Every time it has been because I say what I feel and mean what I say and every time it has been met with fury, hurt and then some heartfelt meanness that I know is a way of, on the behalf of the injured party, simply a way to expel some of the pain they think I meant for them.
Each time this happens I am sad that my words hurt, I am sorry that I believed the person on the receiving end of my brutal honesty thought that I said what I did to hurt them.
I never, ever intentionally hurt people, especially those I call friends. I also never ever just say what I think that person wants me to say. I can't, it doesn't feel honest, it certainly doesn't feel good to me to pour insincere words out in order to please. I don't do it to family, I don't do it to my children and I have never done it to friends. I do do it to people that mean nothing to me, I can join in with the best of them with fake " beautiful! Lovely picture! " on message boards and such like, usually I just keep my mouth shut.
That would be an option in a friendship I suppose, I could just keep my big mouth shut. If someone pours out their heart to me I could say nothing, but that to me is as bad as lying.
If I see someone I love doing something that makes me uncomfortable, if I think they are making a mistake, doing themselves an injustice I will tell them and sometimes it is not appreciated.
Most times, when people do it to me ( and they do, my mum never ever says what we what to hear but always what we need to hear) it does hurt and the times it hurts the most is when that person, parent, friend, spouse is right. When they say something that touches a nerve it goes through me like a dagger to the heart. I am quite spectacular in my response to such tough love and should you be curious as to how I react, try telling me a home truth or two.
I always take those things to heart though and after a cooling down period I almost always see what that person who loved me was trying to say. I will go back and ask them what I can do to right that which was or is, wrong.
I am not in anyway trying to say that I know it all, I don't know much at all actually. I get so many things wrong and am the first to admit that. What I don't get wrong is love. If I say something that is wrong, you can tell me and you can show me how I am wrong and I will admit that I am wrong. If you yell at me and call me names, I will assume that I hit a nerve and I will hold fast to what I said.
I know when someone loves me and when I love someone back, it is going to be for always unless you give me that love back.
If you ever tell me that I am not wanted, that you do not care, that I mean nothing to you, you know what I will do?
I will just walk away.
I don't hang around to be squeezed by the neck or punched in the face.
I just walk away.
I have done my share of begging before and it doesn't work. I don't do that anymore either.
I just walk away.
I won't hate you, I don't even hate the monster that abducted my children and if I don't hate that, you don't have a hope in hell of evoking any hatred. Don't even try, you're wasting your time.
I just walk away.
I won't sneak around and try to see if you still care.
I just walk away.
I won't try and contact you or try to get your attention.
I just walk away.
I walked away recently and it was a sad time. I was sorry that I hurt my friend, I tried to make it very clear that what I was saying was with love and with the best intentions, I kept what I wrote until it became very clear that there was no going back, no forgiving, no discussions or working it through. My friendship was returned, I was given back any love that I might have shared and so, I just walked away.
I am 46 years old. I am, I imagined, so far away from that little girl who was ignored and pushed to the outside of the group as it is possible to be.
Until today when I went somewhere where all my friends hang out and once again, I was that sad little girl who was outcast and just watching the fun because one person didn't want me there.
My friends don't even know I was an outcast, they couldn't see that I was blocked from the fun, they didn't have a clue that one person had made it so that I was the nothing again.
So I just walked away.
I am crying more than I did when I was 15. Not because one person doesn't want me there, I understand why she feels the way she does, though I don't agree with the way she is reacting. I hope that she will just walk away. But because I was made to feel like that sad girl again and I have spent years building that girl back up. The first one beat her down again and yet again years more of making her right again, pushing out the voices that make me cower and loathe.

I wish her joy, I have always wished her joy. I was her friend. If I hadn't cared I would have said all the trite nonsense I think she was hoping to hear, it wouldn't matter to me what she did or does, what she thinks or what happens to her. "There there, all better. how splendid you are" Bollocks.
I am not her friend anymore. It is over, done with and I am not at all sad about that, she gave me back my feelings and made it clear that all along it had been a fake friendship, a manufactured one that was nothing worth fighting for.
I am sad that it has infringed on mutual friendships and I felt I had to leave a lovely group because I was not and am not, willing to go anywhere that brings any kind of feelings of uselessness and self loathing. I will not put myself in a situation where I feel negative in anyway.
I just walk away.
I still have all my friends, I don't doubt that they love me and accept me and my big mouth, warts and all, we are all old enough to know that the days of " don't like her or I'll punch you in the head " have long gone. Hallelujah.
I never walk away from true friends, I will fight 'til the bitter end for friends that are mutually thoughtful and willing to give and take, I only ever walk away when I am told to, when you give me back what I handed to you, when you make it clear that I have nothing to offer, I will, without a word, just walk away.
Even if I sob while I am doing it.