First post marathon run.


I went for my first run today. I slowly laced up my joggers and went running. I did a big sigh as I started, a big soft haaaaaaah. Trying to breathe things out. I feel a bit better for it. Maybe a longer session tomorrow. Slowly slowly. A little butt/hammy pain. My appetite has not been flash – I have been living on muesli and bananas and the odd sustagen. I have manorexia.

Re: the man thing.

The amount of tears has been decreasing.

I have had lots of confusing messages, both internal and external. All very well meaning.

A few of the “he was just not that into you”, “you read him all wrong” messages.

A few of the “he was a jerk”, “don’t waste your time” type.

A few of the “just be patient, he’ll be back, it’s not over” type.

A few of the “he has too much on his plate”, “he has had such a hard time”type.

A few of the “things happen for a reason” type.

Internally, I have been agonising.

“is this how it is always going to be?”

“am I doomed? Is this payback for leaving my husband?” (Frankly unhelpful and I have pushed that one right on out.)

“Is it fate or is the fuck up fairy always going to fly?”

“how can I believe anything anyone says to me now?”

I have had people tell me “don’t worry, you are smart, attractive, funny, brave”. I am beginning to think it is a handicap. I wondered whether I represent what these men want to be, rather than what they could love. Again, probably not that helpful.

I’ve spent time crying in the car. Nobody to hear me. Wondering whether I matter to anyone, at least, matter enough that somebody could come and help me.

I have had periods of blinding anger, probably more to come, if the Kubler Ross theory is to be believed. So. Goddamn. Angry.

But here are some bottom lines:

I acted kindly, honestly and in good faith, and was good to his children. I did not chase him any more than he chased me. I responded to the things he said to me and believed them, they made me feel good. I did not imagine things, I would like to think I am smarter than that. What happened, while, in one way, unsurprising, was out of the blue and probably something that had boiled over.

I sent him a nice email explaining why I stormed off. I told him that I understood his fears; that, given a chance, I would support him. The email has gone unanswered. Despite being awfully hurt I have done my best, and showed him my best self.

But I didn’t deserve to be hurt. And I can’t do anything more. And I don’t know what is going to happen and there is not a damn thing I can do about it.

And what I need to do now is put the focus back on me.

I decided what was important to me in a relationship.

Foremost, to be loved as I do, without reservation. And, in the right relationship, to have children. I have time. He might not be the one for that.

I need to jump back into my own life and regain that burgeoning sense of self. Dance. Paint. Run. Travel. And, heck, do work.

That little chestnut of faith. Faith in myself. That I have worth, and I do matter. The trust in others has had a bit of a knock though.

To regain that delicious feeling that something exciting is around the corner.

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