A huge misconception about me, one I even tell myself, is that I want an alternative lifestyle. That nothing is normal about me or the way I live. Granted I am different, and complex , and until very recently, was more often than not looking for my next high, or my next low. But I long for the house on the hill with the Picket Fences in the Home Counties too. Why am I unable to grab it when it is within my grasp? Why do I spend all my time pretending it’s not what I want, and in turn giving out one of the biggest turn offs a woman can experience. No security. With my tales of India, Barcelona, Belize or wherever the fuck else I think it will be easier then here. I’m English and England is where I belong. I could live anywhere yet here I am so it’s good to finally accept that. One less thing to confuse my jumbled head.
It was a terrible shame NG and I couldn’t have children. We talked about ivf but she had already failed a round with her husband. I doubt she will ever have children now after her treatment on top but I hope she is with a man with kids, or she adopts. I hope he’s a good man. Solid and stable. Not the any port in a storm fix it quick type. Not a rebound relationship.
She would make a great mother. She always wanted that. When I felt safe in the relationship she didn’t. In The End there was only me talking about it any more. Me trying to make her happy when nothing would. Her hatred of herself for being too weak to leave me had now turned into a full blown Depression. I know now I was the cause of that Depression.
She never admitted it to me but nothing I did was right by the End. The smallest oversight or lack of an extra xx on an SMS being all that was needed to bring those dark thoughts back. I couldn’t win I see now. She was dead inside by then. The storm had been brewing for longer than I had any idea. Maybe I didn’t want to see. Her happiness now without me, although naturally hard to accept, does truthfully make me smile for her.
But if we had achieved a baby it would have calmed us both down. A new focus. We would have both ensured the mistakes that were made in our childhoods would not be repeated. We knew what we both missed out on even though we couldn’t replace it in ourselves. Of that I am sure.
It is one of my eternal regrets at my age now I that I will never experience tbe joy and satisfaction and pride and grounding of fathering a child and see it to adulthood.
I will probably never have the house within the picket fence either. Maybe it’s time to accept this model has not worked for me, as much as I wanted it. I hope it’s not because I don’t have the confidence to do it as I was never shown how. I have fought tooth and nail to stay in my children’s lives and only let go when it was clearly in their best interest. And I was there again as soon as they were old enough to make their own decisions.
But the record books will only record that I wasn’t there at the important times and they probably had no idea why. I thought I had tried hard to fix things but I can see I could have tried harder. It’s no fun knowing you didn’t give it your best. And why you thought you didn’t need to. I was probably more focused on the pain it was causing me than them. Holding back. Being a retard.
I’m not going to live in pain and denial any more. I can be so much better, I’m not going to accept this. This ridiculous Self Harm and that of those I love.!
I will not put up with this nonsense any more. Fuck you Wales.