Author: lifeoflyons

I went and saw a psychic today. I wanted to see if I could be a believer. My mum has always been very into that sort of thing and I always had reservations. No one can know the future right? Can spirits really come through to speak to me? 

I went into the session full of life and energy, yet I came out flat, with almost more questions then what I went in with.  I’m not sure what I was expecting to hear. I think it was just reassurance that I would be ok. That the picture in my head of how this will work out is what’s going to happen?  

I heard all about my life. In fact everything that was said was uplifting and it made me excited to get to those moments in the future. When? How? Who? It felt positive and exciting. 

And then I heard about him and where life will take him. If only he could have been there to listen to the warning bells ringing for life ahead. Things I did want to hear and things I didn’t, because at the end of the day his life is just that, his and I am slowly realising I am much better off and happier without him. 

Yet, other things weren’t what I wanted to or expected to hear. It has flattened me, it has made me think about the people who have passed and reflect on moments in my life that I remember them by, happy moments as a family. 

I connected with someone who I was very close to and the girls adored from his side of the family. I was reminded by her warmth, her gentle soul and she sent her sadness at the change in our life. It made me disappointed. Disappointed we or more he, has let so many people down, those here and those gone, who were a part of our life together. 

I got information about my girls, about their personalities and I felt reassurance on the job I’m doing with them. Yet there was more I was waiting for. 

My older brother passed away in 2011, at the age of 25. It was unexpected and the pain was excruciating. We were extremely close growing up and there isn’t a day that goes by where I don’t think about him and what a brilliant uncle he would be to my girls. How he would be here protecting me and kicking arse on those who have hurt me.

He was big, strong and tough. Covered in tattoos and often got himself into trouble. He had the most infectious laugh and the most hilarious dance moves. He taught me to let go and enjoy myself, not to worry about what people thought of me, that life’s too short. 

I wanted him to come through and be there. I wanted her to acknowledge his presence and for her to tell me something that only he and I would understand so I could believe. I felt disappointed that he wasn’t mentioned and I desperately needed more. 

All in all, it brought some comfort but it also brought pain. Am I a believer? I’m not sure yet, let’s wait till midyear and see what comes my way. 

 

I wasn’t sure what being really alone would feel like, being shut out from him. Since saying goodbye it hadn’t really hit me. We have lived a life where he has constantly travelled, cricket was life and touring was a given. Daddy’s at cricket, it’s easy to forget. Today has been different, I have been strong, I have been brave but today I feel weak, I feel small and I feel alone.

There are words that ring in my ear, that the girls and I don’t need to worry about anything and that they will always come first. These words should give comfort in something so painful yet that’s far from how life is feeling for us right now. I’m constantly reminded that the team of people who were once there for us both are no longer my friends but my enemy. The words trust no one, have become true and I’m reminded that while he has a team of people around him, protecting him, making life for him easy, I do not.

I wish the words that came from his mouth were true, yet how can they be after being lied to for so long. If anything I have learnt they mean nothing, so why is it so hard to believe.

I feel proud of the mother I am, I work hard to do whatever is necessary to care for and protect my children. They will always be my first and only priority. My words and my actions are the same, no amount of advice or people will tell me how to go about this. We wanted to do it our way, what worked for us and our children yet I’m the only one remembering that.

How is it so easy, to make decisions so hurtful and expect life to just go on like normal. Why am I made to feel so small when my job here with our children should mean so much more.

 

When you first go into a relationship you need to hit all those major milestones. First kiss, first I love you. The next big step is moving in together and with that comes the first challenge. Yep! The dreaded building of Ikea furniture. You fight, throw things and at the end feel all excited that you accomplished it together. As the relationship moves forward tasks get more divided. For instance, in our house there were certain jobs I decided I couldn’t do. Change a light bulb; cook a BBQ, mow the lawn, put together furniture and toys. The ‘man’ jobs as my dad would say.

After 9 years I became pretty good at relying on someone else to do those man jobs.  Then all of a sudden in the blink of an eye he’s gone and I’m left here wondering who the hell will change the down light in the toilet that’s been blown for a month now. 

After a recent flood in our master bedroom and losing our stuff, we were sleeping on just a mattress on the floor. After months I thought it was time to buy a new bed and Incy Interiors were having a sale. I got an absolute bargain. It arrived and I was excited. I opened the door to see two very long, very huge boxes left there. This left me with a few challenges; the first, how do I get these boxes inside and the second, how on earth do I put this together alone.

For those that don’t know me, we don’t have family in Sydney. My mum and dad are in Canberra and his parents are from Young in country NSW. Although I have amazing friends with amazing husbands, who would have gladly come to help, I’m a here and now kind of girl and it was here so the time was now to put it together. 

I opened the boxes out the front and carried each pole and slat into the bedroom. Wait, did I mention this bed I bought was a four poster king sized bed. Yep, that’s 12 side poles and 16 small bottoms slats, a million screws and 2 different sized Allen keys. I moved my mattress up against the wall and started building.  I used a ladder to support the sides that I couldn’t hold and managed to get something that resembled a frame to stand up. I very cleverly attached the Allen key into my drill head and used that to tighten all the bolts. Super clever thinking I thought? I had one small hiccup when trying to stand the bed frame upright and realised my ceiling fan was in the way. I had to undo 2 posts to turn it but I managed. All up it only took me 3 hours to figure out the instructions and put it together (not bad).

As I dragged my very heavy king mattress onto the frame and made the bed with my fresh new sheets, I stood back and I felt proud. Yes, I could have saved a lot of time and hired someone to do it but where’s the satisfaction in that? That night the girls and I got into that bed with pure joy at what I had achieved on my own. I felt a little worried it may collapse on the girls, so not much sleep was had that night. But we were ok and it’s still standing. In fact I LOVE it.  It’s mine, I made it and it represented a new part of me. A strong me who can do all the ‘man’ jobs, without the man.

The toilet light on the other hand is still blown and no matter how many YouTube clips I watch it’s not happening.

 

For the past few months comments I seem to get a alot is how strong I am, how amazingly I am coping, and most people can’t understand why I’m not curdled up in a ball, in the corner on the floor. I appreciate those comments, but the truth is those people see the best of me. They see the fake me, the part of me thats on show, the part that tells myself to smile even if its fake because eventually that fake smile will turn into the real thing and my pain will lessen.

Its funny how people think if you smile and post a few photos on social media you must be doing great. When in-fact people who know the real me would know thats just my way of coping. If I stop and let the reality of whats happened really sink in I’m not sure I will be able to get back up. I need to be up, up looking after two girls. Showing them that no matter what life throws at us, we can get through anything with dignity, grace and courage.

If I could go back in time and change things I would. I would do lots of things differently. It may not have changed the outcome of my situation in this very moment, but I would try. If I could go back in a moment and start again, take it back, I would. Why? because I didn’t ask for this, this wasn’t the way my life was suppose to be. He was my forever, he was my whole world. Until the very end I was 100% devoted to our life and I loved every part of him and our world. This was like a bomb, it went off from behind. I had to deal with in a very public, humiliating and confronting way. A part of me died.

Every day I go through the same questions in my mind. Im still not sure what I ever did. why was I not enough? What did I ever do to him? Was it that I did to much or not enough? Is it because I put on weight? Because sometimes I really couldn’t be bothered shaving my legs or doing my hair? There are just so many questions I will never get the answers to. Things I will regret. Moments I reply over and over in my head and think, what if.

The pain is real and deep. The moments when my kids cry for him is like a dagger into my heart. When they lay next to me and wipe away my tears, I want to hold them so close and never let go, because they and I don’t deserve it. I have genuine fears that keep me awake at night for the future. How will I ever do this on my own and how will I ever give my children what we promised them as a family. I have never loved someone and hated them so much at the same time. I have this feeling of being so hurt and broken inside, yet the only person who right now could possibly mend my heart is the same person who broke it to start with.

I will continue to smile though. I will continue to laugh and make every moment mean something. I will continue to fake it because eventually it won’t be fake and I will make it out the other side stronger.

Most people have seemed genuinely excited to hear about me blogging (or trying to). They are positive and uplifting to the idea of me being creative and exploring my emotions during this horrible time. On the other side people aren’t as supportive, why do it? and what do you want to prove? These are just some of the questions I have faced. To them my answer is this.

I’m choosing to share my journey because in my own mind I need an outlet for my grief, strength and confusion. I no longer feel like I need to or should be silenced in something that has been so public, hurtful and down right humiliating for me. I deserve to have a voice.

My story isn’t to shame the person or people involved, it’s not a blog of hate or spite on them for the choices they made (karma will take care of that). This is about me and my personal journey, my truth. What I believe was and is my life, then and now. How I tackle being a single mother to my two incredible children. How we change and grow, together and apart, which has never happened for more than two days and only on a few occasions.

In the weeks following my public breakup, I was contacted by so many woman, woman who had been through similar experiences. Two close friends have also recently been through similar experiences and more than ever I started believing that every person who has been through or is in this situation or any other horrible situation for that matter, want someone to relate to. They want to know they aren’t alone.

If this isn’t for you then move on, don’t read about it and don’t follow. If this is for you, then engage, inspire and connect with me, no one is alone, and no one should feel they are.

Mel