Second adolecence

Here I am, nearing 40 in a relationship I can't feel sure about, behaving like a teenager

...and not in a good way either... not in a reckless, in love, knickerless through a cornfield kind of way...

No it seems at the moment, I am totally incapable of knowing what is best for me, so I either behave impulsively or rely on other people to make decisions for me.

Where have my frontal lobes gone???

I continue to try to have a baby to try to make Neil happy, just like a teenager has unprotected sex because her boyfriend pressures her to.

And like a teenager I wonder about how he will react. Not if I get pregnant, but if I don't. A teenager would worry that her boyfriend wouldn't stick by her if she got up the duff, I wonder how he will react if I don't. Will he take his sperm elsewhere????

I will be relieved when the whole pregnancy thing is off the agenda.

In My Shoes

I am finding the handovers on Simon's weekends are a bit easier these days, and perhaps more so the being apart. I used to feel physical pain at being separated from my wee boy when he was only 2 but now I can stand it.

One feature of handovers that still makes me sick to the core is seeing my ex's shoes laid out near the door with his new girlfriends' and my childs'. I have always had a low grade foot fetish (how else to describe it) and because of this, the line of shoes is a domestic metaphor that I just cannot handle.

I remember in my uni days coming back from a trip taking trains around Europe to find my long term college boyfriend had not only left me, but moved in with someone else and negleted to tell me ( a very bad moment in my life). I went round to catch up with him, saw the evidence, but because I loved him, and needed to be near him, agreed to stay for coffee (she was not there). Man that coffee stung my throat, but it was the line of shoes that brought on a wave a nausea. I had never met the woman, but her shoes were like small birds, all tiny intricate and brightly coloured. There was no ignoring her presence in is life. I fled and cried for two years.