Diary Of A Redhead

[mylolita]

Why do I do it?! 

I swear! I SWEAR! 

I have to catch myself and work this thing out. I can't let this consume me. It's not just me anymore, and my life - I have babies, and a husband who worships the ground I walk on. No, they deserve better.

I can do this.

We live in a beautiful place. I can hear the ocean from my bath tub. The rows of gardens are a chorus of birds. 

I started feeling light headed, dizzy; faint. I started feeling strange and nauseous. Last week, I went and had yet another paranoid MOT. Once again, everything fit as a fiddle and running perfectly. I was worried I had high blood pressure, or low blood pressure. It turned out I always ran slightly low, as was my norm from my medical history. But still within a great and healthy range of low. 

I need to stop worrying, and take a step back, mentally, and a step forward, physically. 

I don't actually know if anything is wrong with my brain. I feel different often - it feels very wrong. What am I gonna do? Go fill my little antique cabinet up with bottles of pills? Go talk to someone every week - go complain about, what? About myself? Everyone else? What am I fixing?

How about, get a grip, you silly b*tch! How about that one?! 

I didn't think the sea was my thing. I thought it was my husbands, but secretly though, secretly, steadily, creeping warmly, washing over my nervous, delighted, terrible little hyper heart, is a love for the breaking of the waves! I feel myself craving to be down there nearly everyday now, with or without the kids. If my whole life was spent day after day, through every season, through every micro weather change - that would be a fine way to spend them.

I started watching some interviews with people who just, their lives are horrendous. Their childhoods, especially. Parents on drugs, neglect beyond belief - it made me numb to hear. I wanted to cry but I was more shocked. And it makes you realise, when you carry and hold a baby, you must, must, you have to be your very best. You HAVE to do right by them. And all they need you to do is love them, absolutely. And to be stable. To have stable times and stable things. Because life is beautiful and fun. And when they want hugs, to always make time, even if you need to rush out the door. Everything becomes heightened and painfully sweet, after I go to war with myself and everyone around me, and lose it. It's like I get to die, and wake up the next day, given a second chance, and miraculously, I open my eyes to heaven.

For whatever cons I have, I also have pros that come with it. I'm not here today to become a different person, but I need to stop allowing myself to lose control. I need to stop trying to have complete control also. I need to find some kind of personal, unique balance, that is bearable and doable and sustainable for me. For someone like me, I guess. 

I don't know who someone like me is? 

Maybe a crazy girl. Maybe a brilliant girl! Maybe a bad girl? Maybe an okay kinda girl. 

I don't want to look back and regret things I could have easily changed, or had simple control over, but was too weak and impulsive and flawed and pathetic to adjust. 

People hold me in such high opinion around here, or, at least they do to my face! Let's not get to ahead now! Often, that feels phoney. I feel like a fake. Really, I'm an overly emotional bag of nerves, and sometimes life hits the good ones, and sometimes life hits the bad ones, and there doesn't seem to be too much in-between. I don't mind that, I suppose that's how I'm wired. If I believed in God, I would say, he created me in some wild image, and that it's quite fitting that my hair is whipped up by the coastal winds of cliffs everyday. And I don't even mind pain, it can be exquisite and beautiful and useful. But I just don't want to indulge in it when it comes, and get lost. I always seem to be finding my way back to the positive and the good things after my mood falls, but I suppose my fear is you stay and get stuck there in that dark pit and the ability to flip it all around on a pin head by sunrise is forgotten to you?!
 

I've had a really great few days. D and me have had some lovely chats.

Sometimes, as amazing and nuanced as the English language is, with multiple meanings and finesse in every other word, I can't find the language to get half of whatever it is inside of me out. And if I can't, how can anyone else understand it, if I can't make head or tail of it either?

I'm gonna be okay. 

If I were in a stone hut in the mountains, with woollen tattered skirt trails mangling between my bare feet, I would jump on a horse and ride and ride. But, it's 2023, and instead, I'll jump in the car and drive and drive and drive until the silence is broken, noiseless tears brim my eyes, and I know I'll need to turn back home. 

It's okay. 

Somehow, I get away with it. I always want to get away. I think it's alright, because, I always come back.

x

[mylolita]

 

[mylolita]

On 5/5/2023 at 7:41 PM, dias said:

You, however, have soulful eyes!!!

Dias! 

Thank you! What a lovely thing to say! 

They feel like all the emotions, even the bad ones. I sometimes think I can mask my intense emotions day to day but as I've gotten older Dias, I'm not sure I can? I feel like everyone can tell - and "read" me? Not always, but sometimes. Probably fuel to the fire that I'm very open.

I've read quite a lot on face reading, appearances, eyes - generally what people take note of, what your face and colouring can signal to people, things like health, and people presume certain characteristics. Some people even have "intelligent" looking faces! There have been plenty of strange and curious studies on human perception and judgement, we all do it and make it, as you very well know. 

My Dad is a retired optician, and I would go into his office and medical room a lot as a kid. Peer at the charts, spin on his chair, pretend I could work all the apparatus. I'm quite intrigued and focused on peoples eyes. I read another interesting study on limbal rings (the dark circle all around the outside of your iris, or, the coloured part of your eye!) and the darker and more prominent these rings are, the more attractive and healthy someone is generally perceived. The intensity of these rings are technically linked to vitality and health. Science doesn't know fully why, but they are the strongest and most prominent in toddlers, and fade in old age. Some peoples limbal rings don't fade much, I think also giving a subconscious appearance of a more youthful and vital face! 

I suppose it also adds a striking contrast between the colour of the iris, and then the white of the eye.

Anyway, I get wrapped up in trivial nonsense like this! It's funny how my Dad takes the scientific, technical route regarding the ol' eye balls, and I go the polar opposite and can't help but make it all romantic and social - HA!

But - thank you! 

x

[mylolita]

Sometimes, I feel like anyone starting out even real brief on this thing began thinking this was the cute little note pages of a playful kitten. Even I did!!! Even I did. I even fooled myself!

It's took me 33 years to realise, out of everyone, I think I'm actually on The Bad Side.

I'm not a Good Person. 

Who wants to read a Bad Person's side of things? Who wants to bother with it? Why should anyone sympathise, support, or care?! 

I honestly feel, these days, like I should come with some kind of warning. A health hazard label, or some small print. I feel unfair even meeting and befriending new people lately. 

God, is this just another down cast mood, or am I being truthful with myself for once?

I don't even know if my own husband realises the depth of my ends and darkness. I think he's starting to feel like he was fooled into marrying a sweet nice kind Good Girl?!

What kind of girl am I?! 

A bad one a bad one a bad one a bad one...

x

[mylolita]

Another argument, this time with D, upstairs and beyond irritated, all he says is, "Ohh here we go again!"

We argue every week about money. The more money we have, the more we argue. The less money we have, we argue. £90,000 used to be in one of the accounts. It's been spent within 3 months on mostly stock, my £3,000 mini spree didn't even feel like a dint but, there ya go. So we had hundreds of thousands, and now we're once again down to our last £5,000 - and when you have the bills we have to pay, that isn't an okay thing, not at all. 

I absolutely hate money. I hate it! I love it. I hate it. 

He said, "There would never be enough money for you anyway, no matter how much I made!"

"I'm going back to work! SOD THIS!" I backhand. Now it's, what have you spent? When did you spend it? Now for him its, I thought we had that left? I thought we had paid for that? I thought that was on order??!!

We STILL have the building work and kitchen and yard to sort out, and some of the front. It's going to be expensive, probably at least another £70,000. 

Y'know, these numbers, a decade ago, would have no caused so much concern. I look back and realise just how much money really was washing up and over and back out again on the shore. It was a lot, by most peoples standards, and I was 27 and living like a little Queen. And all we did was worry about money as well. But the worries were brief and it was always replaced by a bigger amount than before. But then, you push yourself and get into even more trouble... until, he makes it back again, as if, by magic. And I never doubted that! That's the crazy part of this whole thing. As unstable and unpredictable and wild the way my husband makes money, I never doubted him, not for one day, not even for one second!

I had found him sometimes, isolated and working on the top floor, with his close shaved head in his hands, the room completely silent. Now and then, once a year or so, he would give me a quick run down and speak out a little list of financial predicaments that had got him under water. I would be at his side, sat there quietly, absorbing his unspoken stress, and tell him everything was alright. Actually, he was always, even in those white knuckled, isolated, man alone against the world problems, positive about it. This thing is turning around by next week. By next month, it'll be this this and this. I have this going here. I have this coming from there. The scales tipped, then, as if by magic, tap tap tap - they balanced once again.

This year - last year - no balance. No. Balance. In the immortal words of the Karate Kid. Zero balance. It's all so f*cked up and out of whack. Throw three kids in in four years, throw moving, throw two big renovations you can't really afford, throw in a mega recession, throw in the pandemic and not being allowed to work for a year... you have it all. Throw in a mental crazy materialistic manic hyper b*tch. Mix it all together in a toxic cauldron. I don't even know how we are married, today, through these two years. It's probably horribly safe to say, we half hate each other right now. 

What's the story? Where is the moral? What am I going to do? What is he, going to do?! What will WE do?! 

I have a few things in my life that would make me desperately ashamed, and an unforgivable failure if made a reality. These things are:

To not have raised my children in a stable, loving home with two loving parents
To get divorced
To have an unhappy, unhealthy, hateful marriage
To blow everything we have financially, and end up in the gutter
To cheat on my husband
To have a physical fight with my husband
To end up putting him in his grave with my despicable selfish ways
To end up having my own children hate me due to my behaviour

I feel on the road to most of these things on my dark, dark list. My head is in the sand for the most part, I know it, in defence, it is. I have put up this stupid crystal glass fragile barrier around my heart. Some days, I feel like I can hardly even breathe, I feel so tight chested and panicked. 

I have no help, hardly any external help. No one is coming to save me. All I can rely on is D, and we are on the worst kind of ground at the moment, and our energy is chipped away by each other, and not much seems left for anything else, including the kids. I am, at the moment, an actress, and the external is all a scene and a routine. People constantly tell me I'm a great Mum, someone even said to me today, "You remind me of Miss Honey from Matilda!"

I nearly choked!

I wish! I WISH. If only I could be as sweet and kind and lovely and principled as that fictional skinny earthy natural soft spoken Miss Hoo-Hah. God! If I could wake up tomorrow, and bill the personality changers - I wouldn't mind hers, oh man, not one bit. 

I feel like, if only we could finish the house soon, if only we could pay everything off - if only we could do this this this and that - everything would settle.

My fear is, even if all that does become sorted, and maybe sorted sooner than I could ever realistically hope, that I will still wake up the same horrible person, with the same heated problems, with the same torment, that just ends up pushed onto everyone else around me.

I had such a nice afternoon at a friends house yesterday. She has, an amazing house, with a team of gardeners and a very regular cleaner. I envied her. I even briefly envied her much more agreeable and doddering posh husband, who, in being nothing like my rough and ready rouge little D, just suddenly and spitefully made me wish for the opposite. She seemed so happy. Everything seemed so balanced. I think, is, and, was. The bump of her fourth baby happily and neatly growing under a cheesecloth shirt as she casually sat around the house, talking to me while she cooked, in her great kitchen. For a minute, I could forget Miss Honey, and maybe wanna be her instead. Anyone, maybe, to escape this spoilt shell. 

I was about to leave, and I was saying my thanks for having us and, I had a little candle in a small bag for her because, like me, she's obsessed and addicted to those things, and her husband, who had been out to lunch with mine the day before, said, "Lo? You wouldn't do me a favour when you pick D up would you? Could he swing in and help me lift this large tree? Sal wants it in the reception room."

I said, "Course he can!"

And he then quipped, "I'm sure you can make him do anything anyway!"

I laughed, I clicked my tongue against the roof of my mouth! Well, sure thing! Sure thing. Poor thing, I said! Poor downtrodden thing! I'm terrible! But, he'll move the pot, no problem! Let's get The Boy!!!

That's a curious thing to say? Do you think? I left and, hours later, it struck me. What did he mean? He knew he was busy and once he started asking, you could see he felt like maybe he shouldn't, and did add, "He can come anytime, I realise he's trying to sort out his accounts." But I insisted no, it's okay, he'll come!

This guy is a diplomat and negotiator, basically, for large mining companies (diamond mines, gold mines) that want to set up in often third world countries, and he goes between the government and the share holders of these things and comes up with so called better conditions for the workers and better treatment of the environment. I suppose he knows a lot about people. Maybe he can read people well? Maybe he knows I can often wrap most souls around my mortal finger?! Maybe it was just a casual throw out thing. Maybe it was a flirty thing. Maybe it was nothing. 

I wish I could feel better about myself. I wish, I don't know... I feel like, years ago, a decade ago - I was a better person. I was a really nice person. I was at least respectful and kind to D. We argued badly, we always have done, and I am one to escalate everything and make everything mad and make everything worse, and, y'know, I was know to "dress for an argument" - oh yes! Even back then. But I don't know. Just like the old work troubles, I knew it was never the end and I knew no real damage had been done. A passionate tiff, and we'd be in the sack the next day and walking on the clouds for the next few weeks. It would be over, and it never plagued me like the arguments do now.

Sometimes I think the pressure of very young children makes everything different. I feel guilty all the time, over ridiculous things, over big things. I am constantly questioning myself and so so much more tired. My duties never end now. I don't sign off. Maybe I never will now. Maybe that's what's so God damn tiring about it all - even the relentless thought of it all. 

True love is, I don't know... manic in its own right. It's up, it's down. Fifteen years is along time to hardly be parted with someone. It's no small deal. I knew better back then. I think I was, in so many ways, a lot better. I've been indulged and I indulge myself. It's a bad cycle. I keep thinking tomorrow, I'll get the ceremonial scissors - y'know, the ridiculously large ones, and mentally snip the ribbon of my turmoil, and as it flutters to a fall, the weight I find pressing on my soul with float down with it. Everything comes back to earth - everything.

I'm fed up. I can do better than this. I can write about better things, think about better things... my whole self, my stupid wound up emotions, my problems, my thoughts - take up too much of my mind. I'm not helping anyone. I'm not even helping myself. It's sad, and in a big way, secretly, and deep down, I'm failing. 

I can see why people become addicted to drugs - alcohol - all of it. 

I won't. But I can see why. Their souls are empty and their minds are too full. You need something to get rid of the thoughts, and fill your heart with meaning.

x
 

[itsallgrand]

Happy mother's day. I hope you can have a nice rest of the day with your family. 

I know it's probably like a dirty word to you, but maybe you guys need to sit down and work out a budget. My SO hated that concept at first but he came from a hell of a lot more money than I did lol. Now he loves it because it's clear cut boundaries and expectations. The budget always allows for x amount of cash for both of us to spend without having to check in with the other. I think that's vital as it keeps things from feeling super restrictive. 

It's an idea. Prevents the " hey where did you spend this?  Hey I thought you paid this?!".

Hope things look up and you have a great day. 

[mylolita]

On 5/14/2023 at 5:03 PM, itsallgrand said:

Happy mother's day. I hope you can have a nice rest of the day with your family. 

I know it's probably like a dirty word to you, but maybe you guys need to sit down and work out a budget. My SO hated that concept at first but he came from a hell of a lot more money than I did lol. Now he loves it because it's clear cut boundaries and expectations. The budget always allows for x amount of cash for both of us to spend without having to check in with the other. I think that's vital as it keeps things from feeling super restrictive. 

It's an idea. Prevents the " hey where did you spend this?  Hey I thought you paid this?!".

Hope things look up and you have a great day. 

Afternoon grand!

At first I thought, what does she mean - Mothers Day?! It was ages ago! But then I remembered that in the US, you celebrate on a different day! Ours ties in with Easter here in the UK! But - thank you!!!

And, you couldn't be more right grand. It is a wash your mouth out with soap word! I don't understand the concept of it. Budget to me is, however much you have, stretch it and go a little extra way over as well. 

I know it sounds ridiculous, and unbelievably selfish (it is) and immature (it is) and bad (it is) but, spending money to me is, I don't like to admit it but, an addiction. It's a coping mechanism. It helps me switch off my brain. Forget my thoughts for a moment that are always racing. It's there for fun, for a boost. The risky nature of the spending (always out of my comfort zone, unknown to my husband, done sneakily, or slyly, or deceptively, or angrily ((after an argument)) give me this adrenaline buzz. It's always coupled with immense guilt though. I never can fully enjoy my spending. It's like when I was anorexic, and I was so intensely thin - it's all I wanted, and you'd think not eating or seriously restricting my eating would make me happy, and the low weights I got to, would make me happy? But it didn't. The whole thing was wrapped up in deep shame, guilt, fear - and lots of lies. All lies. I was a phoney who did all my eating out in public, so no one suspected (I truly sometimes believed I fooled people, but looking back, of course I didn't, and especially not my husband, who was my boyfriend and then my fiancé through me being 18 to 23 and then I can argue, it didn't fully stop until I had my boy, at 27). 

I'm not trying to make excuses. It's become very bad. My husband will halt the cards for weekly periods, so only he can use them. I told him to do this, by the way. I can't even trust myself. How weak and pathetically minded do I have to be, right?? We have set mini budgets for me, or allowances. It's always above and beyond what he would ever spend personally on himself. D is not a spender like that. He hates buying clothes and doesn't care for restaurants or drinking and he always haggles and then ploughs anything left into the business. He buys with caution for most things, even if the item is expensive, he's never fast or impulsive or emotional in his spending. Total opposite to me, as you can imagine. 

I also hate to admit this, but say if we have agreed a weekly or monthly amount that sounds realistic, that I can spend completely on myself (example: £400) I will blow through that within a day or two, maybe three or four max, and then I'll just gather more from about the house in deceitful ways. D is so casual and free with money, that I can go into boxes or pockets or take a card and withdraw another couple of hundred and it will be weeks or months before things catch up, he just happens to look, and then notices thousands are gone. Years ago, I remember starting on about £200 a month all for myself. This doesn't include meals out or coffee or flowers or things for the house by the way, and it didn't include special things like, if I wanted to go get my hair cut or go to a spa (never do but, y'know!) or buy gifts for friends - it was just purely fun play money for maybe make-up or some shoes or some bath products or, whatever. But that was very soon nowhere near enough for me. I know, I know. I can feel myself curling into a shell while I type this. I realise it's so desperately ungrateful and wrong. So it keeps getting bumped up, until we have another argument about money. And then we get the, "Nothing would ever be enough anyway!" and, in a way, I think, that's ridiculous! Absolutely INSANE. Of course there would be an amount I'd be satiated at! But then, before sleep, I realise, once again, he's probably right. Because the spending for me isn't about the things I get. I'm trying to fill a void inside me, I'm trying to buy brief blips of happiness, excitement. I'm trying to busy myself, to preoccupy my mind with trivial pleasant things for half an hour. I am trading pounds for only fleeting relief, and it's relief that never comes - or, doesn't stay.

I honestly don't know what to do.

I think I am seriously messed up, and only getting worse. I always thought you were supposed to gain control and clarity and maturity with age? 

I wish I was exaggerating.

x

[mylolita]

 

[Seraphim]

Hey Lo, in Canada we celebrate Mother’s Day the same time as Americans. IAG is Canadian like me. 
 

I am sorry you are filling a great hole of need . 😢 It is so difficult. 

[mylolita]

3 minutes ago, Seraphim said:

Hey Lo, in Canada we celebrate Mother’s Day the same time as Americans. IAG is Canadian like me. 
 

I am sorry you are filling a great hole of need . 😢 It is so difficult. 

Ahhhh! I apologise! 

Sometimes, my British brain reads American spellings on here and it reminds me I am in part of the 1% UK piece of dust dancing around the air of ENA!!!

Thank you, Seraphim. I'm just getting into something I don't want to be. The optimist inside me has the outburst, has the crisis, has the panic or whatever it is, and then says, "It's okay! It's alright. This is today. You have tomorrow. Everything will work out. We can do this."

The horrible twisted part consumes me again only too soon and I'm back to square one. It doesn't plateau and seems to be getting worse. I don't know what's going on with me. I want to be a functioning, stable, nice person, and a great mother and wife. I don't want to be a wreck.

Can I ask - do you believe in repressed memories from childhood?

I have wanted to write about my experience for so long, just to get it out of myself, but I can't seem to think it has any basis in reality. I always thought, if anything happened to you that was bad in childhood, it would be obvious, and clear as day? My "memory" or, it's actually a dream that pops up horribly like washing bile, hits me randomly every 6-10 years. I have horrible doubts and secret episodes and all this chaos and dilemma and panic and then, I seem to get it under some kind of control (it's false control really) and I "go back to normal" and even forget it all over again. My turmoil is whether this dream I have is actually a real memory? A flash back? A repressed memory?

I'm really clutching at straws. The tormenting part of it for me is that, I don't think anyone, psychologist, hypnotist, therapist - anyone - would 100% ever be able to say, this is a fact, this is not a fact. As is I presume, from some brief research I can stand, the nature of this stuff. I just don't know. 

I'm trying to put all these horrible thoughts out of my head today and try and just live and function. Instead, I threw a massive hissy fit this morning because I was running late with the kids for school, my husband wasn't feeling too well in bed, but I couldn't find the house key to unlock the door, or our car key, and he was shuffling around and just waking up, and I let all my frustration and sadness and not being able to cope and feeling like a failure loose and just yelled at him up the stairs and, my son started crying, and my daughter started crying, and our baby started crying, and honestly, I felt like crying. And I ended up saying to him, while he was still waking up in his dressing gown, "YOU TAKE THEM THEN!"

He didn't, I did. But it was a horrible morning on what should have been a gorgeous, wholesome, regular daily kinda morning. The sun was shining and the birds were singing, but I feel so much pain. I just feel like the worst mother lately, in these last few months. If I didn't have complete fear of leaving them, and if I didn't have complete fear of them hating me, forgetting me, or realising they do better without me, I would check myself into a hotel for a month, or a mental hospital, or something, God knows - and just try and scramble my way out of this. 

My poor husband is a patient saint through all of this. Under all his work obligations and stress he threw himself in the shower and when I got back from the school run and my son had said, to my devastation, "Maybe Dad, you need to marry a new wife!!!" and then told his teacher as he walked into class, "They had a big argument this morning about a key..." I just wanted the ground to swallow me up and I wanted to be gone. And there is my long suffering husband, ready to take the girls out all day so I can what - sit and wallow in bed, getting more isolated and more depressed by the hour. 

Seraphim, I thought as a little girl, being 33 was going to be amazing and better than this. I thought I'd have it altogether and perfected. On paper, I do, but you only have to scratch the surface and the whole thing is crumbling down on me and only I can put it right as well... there is no one else that can "save me" and put all my wrongs to rights.

Sometimes, I wish I were religious.

x

[Seraphim]

Well, nothing is linear. We don’t grow in a linear way. Sometimes we grow a lot and sometimes we stay the same and sometimes we go backwards. I would really try and etch out time for yourself . I know don’t trust sitters , but for your own sanity a nanny service would be money well spent and maybe get some kind of therapy . It is so uncomfortable in every way to be where you are. I have been there. Invest in YOURSELF and your growth. 

[itsallgrand]

You have a lot of self awareness and that's a great thing Lo. I'm sending you so much love. 

There are therapies to help people with shopping addiction. Addiction is addiction. It's a serious thing and I don't know anyone who has struggled with addiction who has got through it alone. You need lots of support. There will be ups and downs. But you can move past where you are now. I firmly believe it. I've seen it! 

If there's traumas underlying all this, we are here to support you too. Sadly so many here have experienced abuse. Always here to listen without judgement on that.

[Seraphim]

I agree we are here to support you, Lo. 

[mylolita]

Last night, I took the two minute drive to the sea front, slowly parked up, and watched the sun set lazily over a glittering ocean, dark orange light dancing over each swell. By God, I wish you could have loaned my eyes at 8pm. I wish you could'a. 

Yoga had been cancelled, and as I do more and more these days, on my nostalgic tiny piece of white plastic 2000's phone, JLo RnB music video style, I like, call people up. I know it irritates them. People are so used to texting. I get it, I get it. I was that girl a few months back. But now I'm a different girl who calls people, takes baths instead of showers, and goes swimming in the sea.

I scooped up my hessian beach bag, loaded with a blanket, a towel, a bottle of wine, a picnic throw, and take myself and my white linen trousers, hems rolled up about the ankles, to the shore. I could see Cha and L bobbing out into the ocean. God, it looked far. They were waving for me to get in.

I started to take everything off, dumping a cashmere cardigan on top of my loaded bag, a slouchy sweat top, clogs... only a lilac bathing suit remained, and a deep plum scrunchie, casually holding piled up curls atop of my head. I just walked right in. COLD. But not as bad as I thought it was gonna be, until probably it got to about my waist, then I just thought, "Don't be a chicken you loser, keep going." And I was silent, or pretty much, and it reminded me of all the times I went into labour, and I never once screamed out. Their make-up free faces came into view. 

"GIRLS!" I announced. "It's bloody BALTIC GIRLS! What were you THINKING?!"

I'd arranged the whole thing, but the extra swimming bit had been their addition. It was perfect. PERFECT! A whole year or more here, a five minute walk from our house to this beautiful stretch of heaven, and I'd never swam - never. 

From what had looked like a very still, sparkling milpond of stretched water, when you got up close, waves would come after a few swells, that, even when I jumped, and then yes, gave a little girlie "Eeeee!" would slap your body, splashing water up near my neck, wetting the tendrils of hair. My legs felt numb, my skin felt like there were a million tiny little needles ***ing me. It felt terrible. It felt amazing. I felt... alive. I felt, I tell you what, bloody AWAKE.

We chatted. All the while, I couldn't really concentrate on any of the talk. I felt like I was in a dream. Floating in a freezing, numb, perfect, augmented reality. Only a few hours ago I'd been in a rocking chair, so warm, the top of my lip had been lined with sweat, humming twinkle twinkle, and almost drifting off into some unknown slumber. But now, I was shoulder deep in the sea!

It was Cha after about half an hour who said she had to get out. I wanted to stay in forever. I could hardly feel anything anymore, and my whole body felt weirdly warm. I wished I'd been naked, and mentally made a note 'Skinny Dip'. 

The girls half ran out, I said I felt like getting back in. They threw thermal blankets around their swim suits and didn't change, I wrapped a towel around me and dressed for a casual meal. 

"Where's the wine then girls!" I nodded up to the seafood restaurant close behind. I was ready to party. I almost wanted to sit back, and savour what I'd just done. Like a cigarette after sex. Like a beer after mowing the lawn in a heatwave. I wanted to slink up those stairs to sit at a table with that panoramic view of this amazing world, the darkening skies, the rolling waves... in, out... in, out... predictable and hypnotising like a heartbeat. 

Everyone wanted to go to bed. I couldn't believe it. The wine in my bag shed a tear. 

"Y'know girls, I might just, stay here."

"Sit! Enjoy the beach!" They squeezed my arm, we all hugged, then they left quickly, to the warmth of their cars. I felt warm, high, gently buzzed. I felt alive and in love. I wanted to be alone, anyway. I didn't want to be alone, anyway. I sat and stayed. Couples were walking along the surf. Dog walkers ambled along. Dregs of younger teenagers started setting up a fire. I sighed. Life can be so damn beautiful. Life can be perfect. And in some moments, absolutely everything, is okay. And everything else stands still. When I was in that water, I could think of nothing else but the cold, the weird warmth, the sun, and the waves. For a moment, I forgot myself. 

I gathered my things back up, and like that, there was no trace we were ever there, the ocean, she carried on. For all I know, she'll never stop. 

I got back to the car. I thought about driving out to get a hot chocolate. I did. I sat and drank it by myself, in a trance - in a content, fuzzy trance. My phone rang. It was D, of course.

"Did you do it?!"

"Of course I did! How dare you!!!"

"Ohhh Lo! I can't believe it! You did us proud! That's great! It's really great! I was reading, I read now, that cocaine gives the same high as a cold plunge, but with the cold plunge, the dopamine lasts for over 2.5 hours, where as the high from coke starts going after 10 minutes."

"Natural high" I softly add. "That's so cool. D, I'm addicted. I want back in!"

"Get me a pizza will ya? And come home? Let's eat it in bed?"

I laughed. I do love him. We're okay. But God, that OCEAN!

I started up the car again, and in that moment, I could have drove and drove forever, past the dark, into the dawn, through to today. I was in that deeply thoughtful, almost spiritual mode. My mind was emptying but becoming hyper focused on a few thoughts. I felt like writing. Instead, I came home, and opened up a cocktail. 

I woke up the next day wondering when and how I could fit this wild swimming in as much as possible.

x
 

 

[mylolita]

On 5/17/2023 at 2:56 PM, itsallgrand said:

You have a lot of self awareness and that's a great thing Lo. I'm sending you so much love. 

There are therapies to help people with shopping addiction. Addiction is addiction. It's a serious thing and I don't know anyone who has struggled with addiction who has got through it alone. You need lots of support. There will be ups and downs. But you can move past where you are now. I firmly believe it. I've seen it! 

If there's traumas underlying all this, we are here to support you too. Sadly so many here have experienced abuse. Always here to listen without judgement on that.

Thank you, grand! You are really, truly, too kind! Too sweet m'dear! Too sweet.

And like all people in the midst of doing something they shouldn't, they aren't really ready or wanting to stop yet, and like it too much. That's where I'm at grand. And, I know it's wrong. 

Thank you. Maybe I'll get it out one day. It may or may not have been buried for along, long time. I don't know what happened. One day, a realisation and memory just hit me, and it was extremely sickening and floored me, in terror. I had what, when I look back, was probably a panic attack. But it's surrounded with doubt and confusion, and I don't know for certain what happened, if anything, or if my bad memory is simply a bad dream. There is that layer to it. I don't know if I'll ever find out, and I don't know whether writing about it will help me or make me re-live something I don't ever wanna re-live?

Thank you, again - no excuses though, grand. I have no excuse.

x

[mylolita]

I think I get manic. But I'm not sure. No, not really?

Whatever. Why analyse it! Sleep it off, and start again another day.

"After all, tomorrow is another day."
 

x

[Jibralta]

I never liked the movie much, but the BOOK--man, what a great story. 

[mylolita]

9 hours ago, Jibralta said:

I never liked the movie much, but the BOOK--man, what a great story. 

I've never read the book Jib! But, the movie felt EPIC to me! The interval part with the music half way!?

I feel like I can relate a lot to the character of Scarlett O'Hara. But then again, probably nearly all women can. I'm as immature, jealous and vain as her - HA! So there's something! I'm deeply interested in the actress Vivienne Leigh. I also feel like I can relate to her in some sense. But once again, probably most women who have depression and mood swings and a fem'fatale thing goin' on and are on the glamorous side. 

She was beyond beautiful though. What a face! What eyes! And lips! I watched an interview with her last night and realised, she pretty much is O'Hara. I don't know if she ever really went into character much. All the best actors do that, though. I think it's how they can portray someone so well and make you believe... because, in a way, that is a blown up version of the selves they already are. I think Tom Cruise is another one - mostly plays the take action cool guy. I think that is Tom Cruise, as he is. I think he would be that if he were working in the check out line, and I think Vivienne Leigh would have been as confident and quipping and fatally self absorbed if she had been working at the make-up counter down town. In a way, it's almost like they just had to be stars. I don't know. I couldn't imagine them about "civilian" life?!

I'm going to put the book on my list Jib! Any other recommendations? Reading anything new?

x
 

 

[Jibralta]

4 hours ago, mylolita said:

I feel like I can relate a lot to the character of Scarlett O'Hara. But then again, probably nearly all women can. I'm as immature, jealous and vain as her - HA! So there's something!

The character development in Gone With the Wind is one of the best parts of the book, in my opinion. Not just Scarlett's, but Rhett Butler's as well. 

The last time I read the book, I realized that Scarlett was just a kid for most of it, making kid decisions with kid motivations and the typical narrow, experienceless, kid point of view. At the very end of the book, maturity hits. 

I relate to Scarlett's journey A LOT, and I love how Margaret Mitchell closes the story right as Scarlett's next chapter is about to open. What is she going to do? Well, she's going to do something, and asses are going to get kicked in the process.

Another thing the book does really well is vividly illustrate the chivalry and decadence of the antebellum Southern culture while subtly and humorously highlighting the contradiction and hypocrisy within. It makes no such commentary on racism, unfortunately. It is a racist book, written in a much more racist time than we now live in. For that reason, it may be cast aside and ignored or even banned or burned. I hope that isn't the case for too long, because I think this book still has a lot to offer.

[Jibralta]

4 hours ago, mylolita said:

She was beyond beautiful though. What a face! What eyes! And lips! I watched an interview with her last night and realised, she pretty much is O'Hara. I don't know if she ever really went into character much.

She was very beautiful! Thinner in this screen test than I think she was in the movie. You don't realize how small she is here because she's so statuesque. She looks larger than life, like a monument. Do you know she was English? 

I don't know much about Vivien Leigh, but I do know that later in life she played the role of Blanche in A Street Car Named Desire. I don't know much about that story, either. But Wikipedia describes Blanche as "deeply insecure, an aging Southern belle who lives in a state of perpetual panic about her fading beauty and concerns about how others perceive her looks."

I think that a lot of people (with a gleeful degree of schadenfreude) may have seen Blanche as a continuation of Scarlett O'Hara's story. I remember the generally negative opinion of Scarlett that people had when I was growing up, and I was surprised to find out how much I liked Scarlett and related to her. I am sure that Scarlett is still a character that people love to hate. But I just love her.

It's an interesting double standard because she and Rhett are essentially the same character. Rhett is generally thought of as a hero, but for some reason people overlook the fact that Scarlett is the unflagging sole provider for not just herself and her children, but many other families as well. Rhett kind of supports a kid in Louisiana somewhere that's probably his anyway. I think Scarlett's humanity is easily overlooked because she is so effortlessly powerful. I mean, it's shocking.

[mylolita]

______

Loneliness is a crowded room
Full of open hearts turned to stone
All together all alone
All at once my whole world had changed
Now I'm in the dark, off the wall
Let the strobe light up them all
I close my eyes and dance till dawn
Dance away

Dance away the heartache
Dance away the tears
Dance away


- 'Dance Away', Roxy Music
________


Yeah, when my poor heart is breakin' apart
She'll put it back together
She ain't the kind to show off her mind
But talkin' of love, she's clever

Yeah, when she arrives and stands by my side
Makes me so proud to know her
High-steppin' dames with high-soundin' names
There ain't nothin' they could show her


- 'Oh Honey', Delegation
_________

x

[mylolita]

22 hours ago, Jibralta said:

She was very beautiful! Thinner in this screen test than I think she was in the movie. You don't realize how small she is here because she's so statuesque. She looks larger than life, like a monument. Do you know she was English? 

I don't know much about Vivien Leigh, but I do know that later in life she played the role of Blanche in A Street Car Named Desire. I don't know much about that story, either. But Wikipedia describes Blanche as "deeply insecure, an aging Southern belle who lives in a state of perpetual panic about her fading beauty and concerns about how others perceive her looks."

I think that a lot of people (with a gleeful degree of schadenfreude) may have seen Blanche as a continuation of Scarlett O'Hara's story. I remember the generally negative opinion of Scarlett that people had when I was growing up, and I was surprised to find out how much I liked Scarlett and related to her. I am sure that Scarlett is still a character that people love to hate. But I just love her.

It's an interesting double standard because she and Rhett are essentially the same character. Rhett is generally thought of as a hero, but for some reason people overlook the fact that Scarlett is the unflagging sole provider for not just herself and her children, but many other families as well. Rhett kind of supports a kid in Louisiana somewhere that's probably his anyway. I think Scarlett's humanity is easily overlooked because she is so effortlessly powerful. I mean, it's shocking.

Put so greatly Jib, as always my dear, you hit the nail on the head!!!

And I knew she was petite! Small and mighty! And a force even in real life interviews! And yes, extremely British - HA! I think she got slack from critics regarding the film 'A Street Car Named Desire' because she put on an American accent and some people didn't buy it.

That movie is so dark by the way, I saw it along time ago, but the feeling I got after a finished watching it stuck with me and is how I remember the picture. I think, in her real life, she was a bi-polar, depressive mess, self absorbed and disarmingly charismatic, self assured! And it was such a shame she died so young - 56 I think? I almost feel she was destined for an early death. Some people, you just can't imagine old, frail, and a shadow.

I love your analysis of the book. I'll have to read. I am guessing there are big differences from the film. I'm also not in the business Jib, as I think you are, of banning books because of hard topics, or because the topic and opinions expressed are out dated or offensive. All the more to keep them circulating! It's almost historic really, to have social commentary like that, and if it's entwined into literature - PERFECT! You couldn't captivate people anymore in my opinion!

I did read, look, not to slight any of it at all, but you are given the impression every second person in America owned slaves. I read that actually, at the height of slavery, only something like 1.5% of the American population owned slaves. It was for the ultra rich - and back then, when you were rich, you were rich. I may be wrong - I hope I have my facts right here, open to completely being told I'm remembering what I read off skelter!

I always joke to D that, I am descended from floor sweeping, table serving scrubbers, as my maiden name hails from medieval servitude! So I have to blame my neat freak ways to... genetics!!! And yes, slavery! 

You look back into anyones family history and there is slavery. It was such a normal thing. I'm glad we did away with it, goes without saying - and have to say, am proud that Britain lead the way, as they did with women rights and the right to vote. We're all a bunch of softies here - yah yah yah rah rah rah 😆

x

[mylolita]

23 hours ago, Jibralta said:

The character development in Gone With the Wind is one of the best parts of the book, in my opinion. Not just Scarlett's, but Rhett Butler's as well. 

The last time I read the book, I realized that Scarlett was just a kid for most of it, making kid decisions with kid motivations and the typical narrow, experienceless, kid point of view. At the very end of the book, maturity hits. 

I relate to Scarlett's journey A LOT, and I love how Margaret Mitchell closes the story right as Scarlett's next chapter is about to open. What is she going to do? Well, she's going to do something, and asses are going to get kicked in the process.

Another thing the book does really well is vividly illustrate the chivalry and decadence of the antebellum Southern culture while subtly and humorously highlighting the contradiction and hypocrisy within. It makes no such commentary on racism, unfortunately. It is a racist book, written in a much more racist time than we now live in. For that reason, it may be cast aside and ignored or even banned or burned. I hope that isn't the case for too long, because I think this book still has a lot to offer.

Did the book say how old she was through most of it?

I'm not sure how old Vivienne Leigh was in the film - I imagine not that old, maybe early 20s? I know she was married by 20 and had a baby at 20 also, and she gave her daughter up, and one of her public reasons was to pursue her acting career, and that she felt too young for motherhood. 

x

[mylolita]

I just want a beautiful, compound like estate to be depressed in. 

Gorgeous outfits to pursue an existential crisis, and a great selection of shoes when I need to arrange a near divorce inducing argument. You have to think of these things; not many people do. 

If you're going to be in a constant maudlin of drama and chaos and beauty and ritual and hectic overdriving mixed emotions, it's curtsey to at least do it with flare, and do it in style. It's rude not too.

I want my friends to be intimidated but feel at home, all at the same time, when coming to dinner. If you aren't at least 50% taken aback, the host has failed. I want you to be arrested in the sweetest, shattering, most comfortable way, each and every time. Just simple things. Not too much to ask.

People don't get this stuff because they have no eye and they have no taste. They think beauty only lies in sunsets and butterflies and fairy dust.

“I have the simplest tastes. I am always satisfied with the best.” ― Oscar Wilde

x

[Jibralta]

1 hour ago, mylolita said:

Did the book say how old she was through most of it?

When the book opens, Scarlett is 16. She is married that year and a mother and a widow by 17. At the end of the book, I believe she is 28, but I'm not sure. She is certainly not older than that, though. 

1 hour ago, mylolita said:

I am guessing there are big differences from the film.

I've only seen the movie once, a long time ago, after I first read the book. I never had any patience for the movie; it was too noisy and garish for my tastes, especially as a child. When I did finally watch it, I believe I was in my 20s.

I was going to watch it again a couple years ago--Arnold had read the book and wanted to watch the movie. But he hated it as soon as the opening credits started and made me turn it off lol. I do want to watch it again, though. I can get past all that gaudiness for the sake of academia. I want to reexamine the differences between the movie and the book. 

My fading memory tells me that a lot is lost in the movie: the subtle, humorous criticisms, the character nuances. Movies always oversimplify and alter things for the sake of production, and important themes are invariably lost. I think the movie has supplanted the book in the collective psyche, and I doubt that is good.