So I know I mentioned in my last post that I am now ready to talk about my husbands problem. However, after thinking it over a couple of days I have decided to hold off on that for now. The timing doesn’t seem quite right – there is a slight hold-up in the divorce process. Here’s to hoping I will be free from all this soon!

Another reason I am debating revealing what his problem was, is that I wonder if my talking about it would be equal to stooping to his (rather low) level. I am well aware of the crap and lies that him and his parents have spread about me. Have heard enough things from various sources to know they tried to make me look bad to whoever would listen. That is why on the one hand I want the world to know why whatever has occurred, happened. On the other, I don’t want to seem like I sunk to their level with the mud-slinging. Even though any thing that comes out of my mouth will be absolute truth. In any event, that post will ave to wait till my divorce gets finalised!

In the mean time I am happy to report that I am back with my family and friends – more on that later..


When it hits you that you are not over him.

The last 2 days have been extremely emotional for me. I saw my husband – actually ex (I really must get used to thinking of him as my ex and not husband anymore) on Monday. It was a brief meeting. We had to exchange stuff and therefore had to see each other. He had to return the dowry my parents gave me, because he demanded the jewellery that he had given me (including all gifts) back from me. I didn’t want the gifts I gave him back. But this isn’t about the exchange itself.

Seeing your husband after over 6 months, knowing that you will never see him again, is an indescribable experience. It hits you like a ton of bricks. In the worst possible kind of way that a ton of bricks can hit you. It is such an unreal experience. There he was. Standing in front of me. Someone who 6 months ago was closer to me than anyone could be. And who now stood a mere 10 feet away and could not feel more distant.

In the six months that we had been separated, in the six months that he had made my life more miserable than I would have thought possible, I had managed to convince myself that I was over him. I had managed to convince myself that the love that I had felt for him very strongly at one point in time was gone. It wasn’t that I had convinced myself that I hated him. No, just that I felt nothing towards him. I was indifferent. The second I saw him, the realisation hit me that this was not so.

Love, unfortunately, is not a switch that you can just turn off. It doesn’t work that way. Not even when the man you love had a family that wanted to give Shaitaan a run for his money. Not even when you know that the man you love had a huge problem that just could not be ignored. No, getting over someone takes a long time. And six months simply were not enough.

What made seeing OH even worse was probably that I now know that I will never see him again. This was it. Our last meeting. Where we barely even spoke with each other. I didn’t even get the chance to say goodbye properly. To my home. To my life with him. And now I won’t. Everything that was familiar to me is gone for good. There is something very heart wrenching about this thought. I wouldn’t ever want my enemy to feel this way. Movies and books are right – it almost does feel like someone reached in and pulled your heart right out.

I know I have not talked about the true reason behind my divorce yet. The reason why even though I never wanted a divorce because I loved my husband that much, I am the one pursuing the divorce now. But I feel that is a topic I must talk about now. And I will in my next post. Until then…..

Cogito, Ergo Doleo

[This is a post I actually wrote a couple of weeks ago, and I just decided to type it up as well.]

Do you ever wish you could just stop thinking? Not just about bad things but about good ones as well? I do.

In fact, I’ve discovered that thinking may just be one of the nastiest side effects of my divorce. Especially given that I do have pretty good memory and can recall things that have happened with me in quite some detail…

Every marriage has good moments, even those that end in divorce. Every husband compliments his wife sometime, even those that choose to leave their wives (my guess is they didn’t sincerely mean those compliments, or chose to forget the good in their wives – who knows). My marriage and ex were no exception. I had some wonderful moments in my short marriage. I actually had a lot of wonderful moments. Looking back I do realise that those moments had to do with more effort on my part, not my ex, but I digress.

I remember times in my marriage when I felt really happy. When I would make my husband laugh and he would make me laugh. When I would receive plenty of compliments from my husband. That too very regularly. And remembering that hurts.

As I mentioned in a previous post, my ex has been making what has already become a nasty divorce even nastier. The amount of stress and emotional exhaustion he has been causing for me for the past 6 months is ridiculous. I try to deal with it as best I can. Actually, I think I am dealing rather well with the nasty bits.

The part that is more difficult is my thoughts. Because every time he pulls some nasty stunt, I don’t just see him as the jerk he is being. I think back to the wonderful man I thought I married. The one, who claimed to love me the more than anyone else in the world, who was worried sick himself when I was ill, to the point that he rushed home from work mid-day because I didn’t pick up his call (I was in the shower). The man who complimented me every step of the way, not just to myself directly, but to my family. And these thoughts torture me, because I try to figure out who the real OH is. The man I was married to for a year and a half. Or the one I am now divorcing. Somehow I feel this one is the real deal… And I just never knew who he is.

I think, therefore I suffer.

Wish I had been told some of these when I was a teenager!

Sara Bran

1.Choose a personal theme tune early on and stick with it. This is extremely useful for the cinematic enhancement of dramatic life moments such as break-ups, anniversaries and celebrations. It will also provide comfort during time spent on runways waiting for Easy Jet flights to take off (approx. 98 hours in the average lifetime),  childbirth and terrible sex. My theme tune for example, is Saturday Night Fever and when my daughters were born, there was only wah-wah guitar in my head. That and the vision John Travolta’s white nylon-clad buttocks. But that’s Pethidine for you.

2. Enjoy those perky nugga nuggas. One day you will be able to tune into Radio 4 with them.

3. Laugh often. Some day this will be accompanied by small amounts of wee.

4. Whereas I could floss my teeth with your underwear, you could raise a small family of baboons in mine.

5. When…

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Why I Need To Write More.

I know I haven’t been blogging of late. Actually, I haven’t written anything in a long time.

Initially the reason for not being to write was that I was incredibly busy recently. My wonderful cousin is having a baby soon, and I was busy planning her entire baby shower. All my preparations, for what I hope will be a grand and fun baby shower, are now complete and I am just waiting for the actual day to throw the party.

The main reason for not writing though is that I don’t find myself in the right frame of mind to write. Once again complications have arisen in my already nasty separation/divorce process. And although I seem fine on the surface, I don’t feel so good mentally and emotionally. I can’t seem to concentrate on and enjoy the things I love doing in my alone time.

I think of topics I want to write about and find myself unable to type a word. I have also kind of given up on reading ‘The Happiness Project’.

Actually… If I am really honest, I gave up on that book a while ago. I reached Chapter 2, read the first page of the chapter, put down the book and haven’t been able to pick it up again. Chapter 2, called ‘Remember Love’, is about the author’s decision to find more happiness and satisfaction out of an already happy and loving marriage.

Maybe it’s just me, but that’s the last thing a person going through a divorce wants to read about. Especially a person who fought hard, day and night, to make her marriage work; happy, full of love and respect. And failed. Not because she gave up or didn’t do enough. But because her partner never made an effort himself; or appreciated hers.

I need to find my way out of this funk. Maybe I just need to force myself to write, like I did today. It soothes me.

The Women I Love…

March 8th is International Women’s Day and on this day people world over celebrate the women in their lives, and those who have achieved truly amazing things in life. However, celebrating women shouldn’t be an annual thing – it should be an everyday thing. Women impact others on a daily basis as mothers, wives, sisters, daughters and friends.

I love the women in my life. They make me stronger, wiser and happier every day. Their existence means the world to me, and they are well aware of that. Still, I feel I can never tell them how much they mean to me and how much I love them enough. This is another small attempt on my part to show them my appreciation of all of them.

The woman who is most responsible for me being who I am today is my mother. Every good quality I have, my mother has instilled in me. My mother is a wonderful person, she is exceptionally good. Since childhood, my sisters and I have shared a beautiful relationship with her. She has always been a friend more than a mother. I can talk to my mother about anything in the world. No topic is off limits. And that is the beauty of my relationship with her. She has always been one of my closest and dearest confidantes, and will always be. And she is the best cook I know – no I’m not being biased, I’m just a really lucky foodie!

Going through my divorce, my mother has been the greatest source of support and sanity for me. She is there for me every day – every minute of every day. She is patient and understanding when I have my crazy moments. When my situation drives me to lashing out in anger, she acts as my anchor, trying to console and calm me in a way that no one else in the world can do.

My sisters. What can I say about those two? They drive me crazy at times, we fight, we get pissed off at each other, but there is no one we love in the world as much as each other. The best thing about us is that, as much as we might fight and even if we are annoyed at each other, if anyone does anything to hurt any of us, no one jumps to each other’s rescue as fiercely as we do for each other. All of us have completely different personalities, and that is why we share a very interesting and dynamic relationship.

My older sister is a beautiful soul. I don’t think I have ever told her this, but growing up I always felt I was living under her shadow. She is, and has always been, the beautiful one, the smart one, the confident one and the friendliest one. I am very biased when it comes to her, but she really is all this and more. Growing up she was always the one who was full of life, always had more friends than me and I always admired that about her. Even today, she is the most social one of us. She makes sure she stays in touch with everyone on a regular basis. One thing that always annoyed me about her (I feel I am praising her too much!) is that she does have the tendency to *borrow* things without telling you first. My older sister’s greatest quality, which I feel she underestimates about herself, is that she is a naturally wonderful artist. The amount of talent she has is incredible. I wish she would paint more since she is so good at it, I only wish I had half as much talent as her!

My younger sister. Now this one is a character! But I wouldn’t have her any other way… At times I suspect that that is somehow older than me – she sure loves to act that way! In all seriousness though, I know very few girls as sensible, intelligent, witty (she shares my father’s sense of humour), caring, loving and loyal as my baby sister. She is quite possibly the most important member of our household, and well aware of it. What I admire most about my baby sister is that she is very dedicated and determined. Years ago, just before my eldest paternal uncle passed away, he casually remarked to my sister that she should become a lawyer. She was around 8 years old then. But after he passed away a week later, she never forgot what he said to her. And I am so proud of her of fulfilling his wish; today she is a lawyer. That is my baby sister.

Apart from my two biological sisters, I have also been blessed with 4 more sisters. One who is a technically a cousin, but means so much more. Three started off as friends, and now are sisters who I cannot imagine existence without.

My Api is my kindred spirit. My maternal aunt’s daughter, she has been the person I have always looked up to and admired. I guess you can call her my role model. We share a love for the same kind of movies, Shahrukh Khan, books and Mr Darcy. She has always been a close confidante, I feel like I can talk to her about everything in the world. She serves as the voice of reason at times. At others, she is someone I can passionately discuss How I Met Your Mother and Once Upon A Time with. My most special moments with her are that whenever we visit each other, we easily stay up all night talking about God knows what. And every time we are together for a visit, we have a BBC’s Pride and Prejudice marathon. Something I can possibly only do with her multiple times!

Ada. She is my oldest best friend, not by age but by years. I know very few people as wonderful as her. She’s been through a lot in life, but it has never changed how beautiful she is on the inside. And that is her greatest quality in life. She doesn’t always realise how strong she is and how much of an inspiration she is to me and others in her life. She is a wonderful daughter, sister, mother and friend. She knows me in way that very few people do, and understands me in a way that even fewer do. And I like to think she feels the same way about me. I am proud to call her my own sister and I always pray that our friendship lasts not only as long as we do, but beyond that. Very few people are as lucky as me, to have a soul sister like her.

The one I love to call ZAMBO! This nickname annoys the crap out of my *adopted sister*, but there is very interesting history behind the name, so *No Zambo, I am never going to stop calling you that*. She is loud, completely crazy, has an incredibly scary potty sense of humour. But that just makes her who is she is. The best thing in our relationship is that we balance each other. She lets me be crazy when I need to be, I *try* to make her sane when she needs to be! Our friendship is truly unique. Only we get how we are best friends, confidantes and sisters. Our relationship looks crazy on the outside, because it is. But that is exactly why it’s so special.

Feef. Fa-mera. You know the saying that goes ‘a rose by any other name…..’? Well, this girl by any other name would still be just as fifalicious. I love her as my own sister and am especially proud of my friendship with her. She is the only best friend of mine where our friendship hit some major lows. But it not only survived those lows, but blossomed even more once we overcame those. And that is very rare in a friendship. I am glad we were able to weather those rough spots, Feef is the sort of friend that everyone need in their lives. She is full of life, upbeat, fiercely loyal and loving. She knows exactly how to pull me out of a bad mood, and I always strive to do the same for her.

I am blessed to have these women in my life. I truly would be lost without them. They are a source of strength, joy, love and inspiration every day. I only hope and pray that others can be as lucky as me to find such beautiful relationships in life. I love you all more than life itself, and every day is Women’s Day with all of you around!

Really inspiring.. People can overcome anything if only they choose to..

The WordPress.com Blog

For nearly thirty years, ArLynn Presser avoided leaving her neighborhood in Winnetka, Illinois, as she would experience debilitating anxiety and panic attacks when visiting public places and interacting with people outside her home.

But once she turned fifty, the romance writer decided that she was tired of living in isolation, and ready to face her greatest fear. On December 31, 2010 she started a blog at ArLynnPresser.WordPress.com and wrote in her first post, “My New Year’s resolution is to meet every Facebook friend I have.”

And so she spent 2011 visiting friends all over the world (and meeting some for the very first time). Her son Joseph accompanied her on the journey, recording video clips for ArLynn to share on her blog, which she’s been updating regularly since announcing her resolution on New Year’s Eve 2011. By the end of the year she had been to 13 different countries and…

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