The Letter Writers

I was selling stuff.  My ex had bolted, I had no income and he was not giving me any money for the mortgage or indeed to feed or clothe the children (let alone their school fees). So I was flogging what belongings of my own I could on ebay and at car boot sales. (This generated virtually nothing, as you might expect, so did little to solve the problem.)

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Not So Sexy Now

“It was a gamble that didn’t work out well.’ My daughter was talking about my giving up my career for kids. I’d never thought of it like that. It didn’t feel like a gamble at the time. Maybe it should have.  

Marginal

Just came across some stuff which reminded me that when my ex walked out on us and went to stay in a hotel, I was (amongst other things!) anxious about the cost. Although he had been earning a good salary * we had stratospheric outgoings with a monthly mortgage payment that was more than some people earn in a year, and three children in not just any old independent schools, but three of the priciest in London. And so on.

Invisible, Attractive, Repellent

A beautiful Mercedes in a lovely gleaming grey green, looked to be from the early 60s, slim but curvacious. Not the gullwing. Maybe a 190SL? Anyway, I couldn’t tear my eyes from it as I walked towards the station. 

Truth Can Seep Out

OK so I was dismissive of some of what my therapist says and does. But I know full well that we can accidentally let things slip with our choice of words, and that we can project and deflect and blame shift and all those things.

A Big Fucking Lie

Group therapy. A woman shares about some heartbreaking events in her family. She feels she has been a terrible mother. Her own mother sounds terrible, though she did the best she could. The woman leading the group refers to The Big Fucking Lie that the woman has believed all her life: that she is no good.

On Being Asked ‘Why Do You Want To Lose Weight?’

What I look forward to doing if I were ever to lose weight: