Am I Still Ill?

This Is Not For The Faint-Hearted

Prayin’

Hated For Loving

I woke up this morning in the full consciousness that I might be about to lose my only real companion to jail.

And this has happened twice already, with Maurice and Ezra.

Third time lucky, you say? Hmm. I don’t believe in luck.

Emotions are strange things aren’t they? I mean here I am already feeling all the emotions that I WOULD feel, or, if you like, WILL feel. All because we humans are equipped with brains that think, that can project ahead of time. It’s almost a waste of time reasoning with myself and trying to talk myself out of feeling this way. At the end of the day, this situation awakens a rather serious trauma memory. Abandonment. The reasons for it carry little weight. If someone you love and need has to leave you for whatever reason won’t the hurt be pretty much the same?

It has me defaulting back to the Plan A that dogged my steps for so long. Suicide. Yes, this world could definitely be the death of me quite literally. Jumping off Beachy Head springs to mind. It’s supposed to be a difficult one to survive. Yet feeling virtually indestructible as I do, do I really want to tempt fate?

The desire to give up on life as it appears to have given up on me though…that remains.

I’m a fugitive, every bit as much as he is. I am seeking asylum not in my own country, but in my own life. Can they want to punish me AGAIN?

There’s a song by Morrissey called ‘Hated for Loving’. I should maybe post that as I haven’t the heart to write more. Powerlessness is not a good look, and very far from being ‘the new black’.

Ye Gods, I Have Emotions

Yes I can seem very cold-hearted at times. I seem to go through life largely feeling invincible. But it’s complex. I AM emotionally vulnerable, tooth-achingly so at times.

Since around his 30th birthday things with Solly seemed to go sharply downhill. I couldn’t bear to be around him. Didn’t want to touch him. Stayed in my own room and own zone while he dominated the living room and internet. Watching things I had no interest in, putting on music I hated. Yep he seemed to be pushing me away.

It came to a head the day before yesterday which I had spent completely alone, reading and listening to the radio and feeling more and more resentful of his distance. Around eleven o’clock pm I started to feel so restless. I doubted I would be able to sleep through the night and it felt intolerable to be in the house or even in this city anymore. Recovering addicts call this ‘doing a geographical’. Where you get it into your head that if you only move your physical body to another place you will be shot of your mental demons.

I looked up on the internet when the last train to Folkestone was, thinking to find refuge with my mum and son in their village. OK, it appeared there was one at 12.15, I thought I could just about make it to Charing Cross in time.

Hastily packed a small rucksack with the very basics, headed out to bus and tube. But though I reached the station in time even to buy a ticket, it turned out there was no 12.15 train. I searched, in desperation, the departure boards for where I COULD go because it was inconceivable to me to just return with my tail between my legs. I wanted Solly to at least notice my absence.

OK the only train that at least went some of the way to Folkestone (how I craved to be by the ocean at that moment!) actually terminated in Tonbridge. I got on it, without a ticket and luckily there were no collectors.

My word that was a horrible night. It was so cold, in a jumper, jacket and trackie bottoms I was still inadequately dressed and hadn’t thought to pack a blanket. But also, Tonbridge was just as dead as the dodo in the middle of the night on Easter Monday.

I wandered around, searching in vain for anything open. I was stopped by police times 2. One of them confirmed that there was in fact nothing for homeless people in Tonbridge, nothing open whatsoever and my best bet was to stay around the station and hop on the first available morning train.

Haha, I live a charmed life. There was a tolerable public toilet that remained open opposite the station. There were two operating hand driers producing hot air when you press the button. I decided that this in fact was my ‘hotel’ for the night. Sadly there was nowhere to lie down and only a small toilet to sit on lol.

It was scary how dead Tonbridge was. Apart from the two cops I didn’t speak to a living soul while there.

At some point I changed my mind about the trip to Folkestone. Why not just return to my own gaff. I’m always happier there anyway and I’d sorta got over the urge to ‘do a geographical’ and escape The Smoke.

What clinched the deal was that the first available train in the morning was for Charing Cross, 4.40am. Was I relieved to get on that train. The empty compartment was warm, there were three-person seats that I could lie down on and finally get some zzz’s. Thankfully no ticket inspectors came so my nightmarish excursion was at least free of charge.

But arriving back home and finding Solly on the internet having also been up all night, my problems were only starting.

Idk, I haven’t really got the energy to tell you about yesterday. I seemed to spend most of it crying or feeling like crying and fortunately I am now able to produce actual tears which I couldn’t for years, because it does at least provide some kind of relief. It was a horrendous day, but character-building, I guess. I had to come to terms with the possibility that Solly would have to go, that if he didn’t get himself locked up on Monday when he goes to court we might just not be ‘meant to be’ as I had convinced myself we were.

Reader I survived this head-on collision with my own Force 100 emotions. As I often do I kept them largely to myself and processed the thoughts that went with them as best I could. I guess I had to come to terms with the idea that life after Solly could be a reality for me. I had to free myself of the terrible fear of abandonment, of him going to jail like the last two and from there maybe even being deported to Somalia for God’s sake.

And then I woke up today and Solly was asleep on the sofa downstairs in foetal position, but it was a new day and a new struggle. I had released a lot of my own demons yesterday and didn’t have to do it over again today, huzzah! And what’s more, he went to see his solicitor today to talk about the court case. And meanwhile I had a phone call from the local police asking me to come and give a statement about why I didn’t want to bring a charge against Solly. I’m doing that at 9.00am tomorrow. The officer told me there is even a possibility that it won’t go to trial when they read my statement.

Seems like a good omen. So I’m proceeding in cautious optimism. Anyone who happens to read this. I humbly ask you for your prayers on this matter. Much as I processed my emotions and convinced myself that I could move on without Solly in my life, seriously? I have my doubts. As I said to him this morning while he was only half-awake, how can I lose my twin? If you DO go won’t I still be stuck with you anyway?

Damned if you do or don’t really, but hey. He’s still my own personal saviour, he’s still taken my burden on himself and the least I can do is try my best to save him in return.

One Is Enough

Actually I’ve changed my mind about the two husbands thing, lol. One is probably more than enough and I am essentially very monogamous. Craving another person in my life (well, Ezra in particular) was probably a thing of the moment…I guess I felt a bit deprived because Solly still went out a fair bit and when he is here, he’s actually pretty quiet and even rather boring these days. And Ezra was a much less aggressive personality, his high intelligence appealed to me and his emotional availability. I thought I needed him but he’s started to seem somewhat irrelevant now.

It’s Solly’s birthday today. He didn’t seem to have fixed plans. I had toyed with the idea of deliberately ignoring it as payback for how he ignored me on my birthday except at the eleventh hour, but hey. I’m not a grudge-bearer. And it’s a big one…thirty today.

Luckily, though having been broke for a few days I have sufficient funds now to pay for the essentials plus maybe a little extra.

I’ve had to be extremely patient with Solly over the time we’ve been together, a year and five months now. But deep inside I somehow knew that it would pay off in the end. And I have seen him take great strides. The changes in him are phenomenal but of course, all the potential was there to begin with and just needed drawing out.

Really it was more about removing the obstacles in the way to his success and growth.

I am pretty much an exorcist. I do draw out people’s demons, that’s my nature and I don’t even know I’m doing it a lot of the time.

It’s two-way, for once. He’s drawn out my demons in return. I’m largely at peace with myself and my life now. There’s something truly magical about this guy. There would have to be, to do what he’s done. Love is not a feeling, it’s not words or romantic gestures. It’s action. By their fruits you will know them. And my partnership with Solly has borne more fruit than I ever would have dreamed possible.

I can never be with anyone else.

He has another court case toward the end of this month. Occasionally his paranoia about it will surface. I get mad if he tries to involve me in any way as it truly is not my beef. I’ve been clear with the police from the outset that I was not interested in pursuing any charges for the beating he gave me. There was no lasting damage, my face healed very quickly and I’m as good as new now. I would be utterly devastated if he were to be sent to jail and I can’t pretend I have no qualms.

But I’ve said to him that in all honesty the conflict is within himself more than with the courts, criminal justice, me or anything else. Does he feel guilty to the point where he has to pass sentence on himself and spend a few months behind bars?

Honestly, I don’t think so. Up to this point when confronted he has chosen to lie and say he didn’t do it, passing the blame to me for some unspecific transgression.

He’s very cautious and risk-averse in some ways and quite the opposite in others. It’s anyone’s guess which will win or lose the day if they do insist on him going to court for this which I guess is on the cards. He’s been to court so many times before and got so much ‘previous’ that they will expect him to show.

Honestly he can paint me as the worst person alive, it means nothing to me if it can get him off but there’s a danger they will see straight through it so it will go worse for him. Sometimes honesty is the best policy. Showing vulnerability can work in your favour in these situations. I think that is his best bet. He should admit to being involved in a close and quite passionate relationship with me (hmm, part of his bail conditions were that he shouldn’t try to see me so that’s awkward admittedly).

It’s dumb that my not having wanted to bring any charges from the getgo wouldn’t be listened to and paid heed and respect. They should know that it would be most severe and unusual punishment for ME if he were to go to jail (and from there possibly even be deported). I would willingly appear in court if it would help. I would willingly write more letters, I would willingly do ANYTHING pretty much to let him walk free. But he never seems to want my involvement in any of his legal affairs.

My instinct is this. He continues to feel guilt and shame about his past conduct. He’s a lot less conflicted than he was for sure but frankly, that guilt and shame is genuine because there is no question he has behaved badly toward me not just on that occasion but on many many others since we’ve been together (threatening and aggressive behaviour around me, literally kicking my door open and refusing to leave, extortion and theft not to mention constant lies and general pisstaking of the first degree).

I don’t think the guilt and shame extends to the level of wanting to put himself behind bars though. The thought of it fills him with horror now despite his bravado on previous occasions, once texting me ‘go fuck yourself bitch I’m not scared to go to jail’ lol.

He has to make peace with himself.

Also I guess he has to accept that we’re together and the world will eventually have to know that.  Up to now his go-to ‘defence’ was to deny involvement with me and he is still ultra secretive about our relationship. He barely acknowledges what’s gone on between us even to me for heaven’s sake. Hence his difficulty about allowing me to appear at court. It would mean going public in a very big way and changing the habits of a lifetime…fessing up to who he really is and not just telling them either what he thinks they want to hear or manipulating them into overlooking his transgressions.

Solly is a one-man battleground. Somehow he has to become his own general and lay his own demons to rest for once and for all. I can only offer support at the sidelines and ultimately have no control over whatever he decides.

Is This What YOU Do When You’re Bored?

Baby Solly

My Baby Solly is still about. Very much so lol. Yep he did finally fess up to loving me I guess. Or at the very least wanting me. I know too much about this freaking guy. And he knows it. And he knows more about me than anyone else, why? How?

He took the time to figure me out dear reader.

We still don’t have sex but we both know we want it. No one wants to see us together so we go and do our separate hustles every day, though I’m mostly at home these days, playing the ‘good girl’.

I told Douglas our lodger that we don’t need to get married because we’ve been married all our lives.

I practise the Law of Attraction. Whatever I want or desire in life I act like I already have it. Total world domination? Hehe, not a problem. Two husbands? THEY’RE in the bag. It’s the very least I deserve! Luckily they’re both cool with it and it’s what they want too. They told me!

My life is great now. I don’t feel like a needy nigga. Solly plays that role to a tee. I’m the cool, calm, sober one now. But as ever I prefer to be the Power Behind The Throne.

I’ve been off all psych meds for months. Even my ecig nicotine content is reduced to almost nothing so I’m essentially ‘smoking’ water vapour. I’m eating fruit (hi mum!) I make it more interesting by putting it in cakes, granola and even savoury dishes, because unadorned fruit is boring and not what it used to be. I shop for groceries in the now very lavish Hornsey High Street. My house is like a freaking mansion. I love to cook myself gorgeous veggie/vegan meals, experimenting with different types of fusion cooking and giving full rein to my creativity with food, skills honed over a very long and active life. I buy stuff for him too and sometimes he eats it. He cooks for himself a fair bit because he knows what he likes.

We both know the road we’re on. The one that goes backwards. Yep reader, I married him.