There have been such a mix of things which have tipped me over from misery to happiness but I’m happy to say I am back – sadly for those I know, bigger and brighter than before….
The last piece to leave was the tension in my jaws and I am still scared I won’t get a full night’s sleep without a tablet, but I stopped the anti-depressants more than a week ago now – and my mood is still incredibly optimistic.
Dealing with the rubbish you build up from your youth is like peeling an onion. One layer down and there is always further to go. For me at least it has taken two traumatic events to force me to reveal the next layers – my divorce and the last 14 months spent being in love with a married man.
So I was brought up believing I was deeply unattractive. Mistaken for a boy until I was 12, in a family that thought trying to make yourself look good was a sin, schooled in an all girls convent, rejected by all the boys I quite liked at 13, then 17, then 19. I held it as the deepest truth that no one would ever find me attractive. So when my first boyfriend tried to leave me at 19 I was sick and hopeless for weeks; when my husband to-be admitted he did not find me attractive at 28, I still held on like grim death – who else would want me after all?
This makes me sound like a sad and hopeless case. And I’m not and have never been.
I used my brains and personality to get myself friends, qualifications, a great job. But still felt ugly.
So the first 35 years of my life were spent with the truth that I was ugly but had brains and personality. I held my life together by sheer force of will. My marriage, dream house, dream job, circle of friends.
The next 10 have been spent on a fucking roller coaster as I dismantled each of these structures and dealt with the shit.
3 of those years were spent dealing with the fact that me and my husband should not be married to each other. 2 more dealing with the shock and grief of our split. 3 more working like mad turning stuff at work around and dating like crazy – proving again and again that someone might want to sleep with me (but not love me of course). Then the last 14 months laying myself at the feet of someone who loved me but could not be with me. Allowing myself to be treated appallingly and just going back for more and more. In the certainty that he was the only one in the world who I could love who could also love me.
It is about 3 months since the dramatic soap opera of an ending. 3 months in which I’ve written like crazy, cried and cried, talked and talked, taken anti-depressants.
I firmly believe it is now dealt with. That that is it for me now. I know myself to be attractive, intelligent and an agent for change in whatever I might throw myself into. I’m currently throwing myself into women at work and the mental health agenda.
What has happened?
It’s hard to lay a finger on.
A few people have called me beautiful, or ” a nice-looking woman” or wonder woman. An ex told me I looked better now than I did 5 years ago. (Sadly he looked a lot worse). I could hear this and believe it.
I’m now very well known in our industry. I know I’m a self publicist and a few people are snidy about that, but most people appreciate the fun and glamour I bring to a relatively dull industry. Yes glamour.
There’s a fine line between boasting and self confidence and I feel I might be about to cross it. Enough said.
I’m 46. Women are beautfiul well into their 50s these days…..