Hello there!

Hello! You can call me Nella.

Once upon a time, I had my happily ever after; but what Fairy tales don’t tell
us is that sometimes these endings fall apart and become beginnings once more.
I never imagined that I would leave my life behind and be starting over,
but here we are, and this is my adventure. I’m learning about myself, love, and the world
with each passing day.
My Hope is that this journey may light the way for others, a candle on a very
dark night.

Yellow=Advice from others

Sunday, 24 November 2013

Mirrors- by Jusin Timberlake

Click to listen



For a year and five months I've been asking myself why I've been led down this path, why my seemingly "perfect" marriage fell apart. I've deemed myself the victim in this situation; after all I didn't ask for this, I didn't push him to cheat. I loved him with all of my heart and gave him all I had. I trusted, loved, believed but it wasn't enough. 

One year ago today, Mark exploded into my life, along with an incessant pull that silently and relentlessly led me into his arms time and time again. He seemed to play an eternal security blanket for my shattered life. He was so incredibly sweet and caring, he put me first, he did the nicest sweetest things for me and with me. 

About a month ago when Mark and I had stopped seeing each other yet again, I went out on a date with Donovan, my first date since Blake and Mark. The date was awful and I found myself once more thinking of Mark. I couldn't stay away from him, the feelings were real and intense, but as I had found out from all the months prior, the feelings often were fleeting, like the light of a shining star, brilliant and bright, fading quickly into the black. This time he felt like an old familiar home, awaiting my return, all I had to do was turn the lock. 

I had mixed feelings about my reappearance in his life. I knew how I had hurt him only a month prior, and I knew my intentions weren't pure. I had finally, legitimately put myself first, and it felt awful. 

We spent a lot of time together over the holidays, I'm not sure how I would have made it without him, I'm not sure I would have made it through any of this without him. I've always called him my angel, and today I realize He really was, he saved me. from myself. 

Over time the "sweet" things about him, the things that make him truly him; his beautiful, big, soft heart, his vulnerability, his kindness, begun to grate on me. His overuse of literary devices, his over-the-top awe and wonder at the sunrise, little things that I had held so highly within myself, the parts of him that were supposed to make me so happy, drove me insane. These traits were once the very reason I fell for him, why I had felt so very connected to him. How was it possible to be annoyed by this, I felt like such a cold and empty person. I pushed these thoughts away not wanting to hurt his feelings, certainly not wanting to injure this rare and precious outlook on life. 

It's 4:30a.m. on a Saturday and I've just returned from dropping Emma off at the airport for an impromptu trip to L.A. The worst part is that Mark flew out at the same time for a trip to Phoenix where he will be running a marathon, not once did I offer to take him, not once did it even cross my mind. 

Earlier this evening I was at his house, he fed me supper and we lay down to watch a movie. As he slowly caressed my arm and kissed my neck I cringed, much as I had done with my husband only 7 months prior, then drunk with thoughts of Mark. 

For weeks now I've existed in this limbo with him, Not daring to look in the direction of the elephant who sat obscenely in the room. he kissed me I tried to kiss him back, a pathetic existence, all the while the elephant grew.  All this time I've been concerned with myself. I knew in my heart that I didn't feel the things he did, and I blamed it on my poor broken heart, the empty pit in my chest, sucking every bit of joy from my life, and of those around me. I actually lectured myself into believing that because I was lonely, and because he was such a wonderful companion, that this was ok, that I wasn't using him, because I needed him for comfort, and company, the best things one can want from a person. I not once considered the sheer impossibility of him hurting like myself. Every time I saw him break I rolled my eyes as if his pain was so inferior to mine. How could he possibly understand. How naive he was. 

I've been restless, writhing in my own skin, all of the moments I've failed at being a decent human being to him, failed at treating him in a way remotely close to what he deserves. My heart is heavy, I still feel sorry for myself, guilt eats at my soul. I feel horrible, my pain has defined me, I have let it. He had tears in his eyes tonight when the words escaped his lips "my self esteem is so low, when I'm with you I feel like I'm not good enough, like there's something wrong with me, I've given you my best, I guess the good guy doesn't always win. I feel like I'm becoming a bad person like I won't treat someone the way I treated you because it didn't get me anywhere" words I have spoken to Blake so many times before. The worst part is that he's giving me another chance to be in his life, he believes in me so much that he won't give up on me, he sees this light in me that I just don't believe in. 

Reflecting on these words and many others, I realized something that I suppose I've always known. He is very much like me. I've said it so many times, he's exactly what I wanted in my "next" significant other- someone more like myself. Well there my mirror stood, broken and hurt, but full of undying faith and trust in the person he loves. The person who doesn't deserve him, the person he helped through her toughest days and darkest nights, the girl he believed in when she couldn't believe in herself, the girl who taught him to love.

It's been staring at me all this time, all these months. Every path I took led me back to him, I kept trying to tear myself away to stop hurting him, I could see the wounds I was leaving and knew they would turn to scars. but he had taught me his final lesson, how to put myself first. How incredibly  thankful I am to have been led to Mark, to this gentle and caring man who gave me a piece of his heart to mend the one I had lost.  

I stared at this male version of myself and saw the same little girl I left behind so many months ago. I saw her faults, plain and clear, blinking wide eyed in the new light that shone. She wasn't so perfect after all, but oh she was sweet, and had the very best intentions and loved so wholly. I realized with gaping mouth and horror in my eyes that I had become my husband. In that instant I felt his pain for the very first time. Raw and real. 

The realization that I had to hurt to teach Blake, how Mark was hurting to teach me. I realized I gave Blake a gift, the same one Mark had just given me; One that neither of us were aware of giving. I also understood that being a "good person" isn't a constant, we are shaped by the people who enter our lives, they are here to teach us, and love us and guide us, and us them. Sometimes you are the brokenhearted, sometimes the one who breaks hearts, no matter which position you play there is a hurt and emptiness that follows.
I vow to always remember how it hurt when my heart was broken, how it felt to be abandoned, discarded. I'll never forget how it ached to break another heart, how by taking a piece of someone else's heart I had to learn to forgive myself.

Has this journey come to an end? Have I simply begun a new chapter? I learned so much about myself tonight, just in time to leave that person behind. She will always be a part of me but I have grown form her weaknesses, and while doing so found a part of my husband buried deep inside me....the part of me that survived. 

I was right, when I sat on that alter on August 8 2011, his hand in mine, our families and friends spread before us like an ocean. My chest burned inside, it was the moment I felt I had been forever bonded to Blake. It was the moment him and I became husband and wife, when we became one. That little piece of him that was united with me that day is the only piece that survived when I totally fell apart. In the end he really did save me. 

and for the first time in seven long, beautiful, painful, trying, wonderful years I see him, his imperfect, forgetful, frustrating self, and I know that I still love him wildly, fiercely. Maybe I always will.

Friday, 15 November 2013


There are a few moments which let you know you're exactly where you need to be.
After a couple of drinks with amazing co-workers, driving home too fast and blaring wild ones on the stereo, a smile stretches across my face and I acknowledge how far I’ve come.
These moments are few and far between but they remind me of how awful things once were, how much of myself I had lost. Memories from the last few months flitter before my eyes. Moustache day at work, shenanigans with Emma, dancing in her living room untill five in the morning only to wake up and keep going, the smell of Mark across the table, the feeling that I can do whatever I want and its ok now, I’m free.finally.
I need to remember to enjoy this time, because this is my life, and so much time has slipped away already. Someday when I’m sitting in my house surrounded by my grandkids I’ll think back on this time and how it all led me to exactly where I needed to be. Even though the last few months have been hard and I too often miss my life with Blake, I recognise that I have gathered some beautiful moments and learned important lessons.
I’m going to try my best to enjoy every second, even the hard ones…so here’s to the two trips I just booked. One to Cabo and one to Europe, most importantly here's to me and how far I've come.
I know people suffer much harder things all throughout our world, but every battle big or small is significant, every sorrow every tear reminds us to enjoy the moments of health and happiness.

A midnight prayer.

Dear God, Thank you for loving me when I’m unlovable. Teach me to love myself when there’s nothing left to love.

Wednesday, 23 October 2013

Braver, Stronger, Smarter.

Christopher Robin

Seven and a half months.

“yes I’m ok” I lie into the phone, wondering if she knows. People are starting to think I should “talk to my doctor” it’s a nice way of saying “we think you’re fucked up.” Seven and a half months. The battle continues.

Somebody I used to know, by Walk off the Earth (my favorite version of this song)

Click to listen

A small and unimpressive shift.

Around December I started to come out of my coma. The fights seemed to calm, and I felt the parts of me that were hidden within begin to emerge once more. When thinking back, memories become crisp again as if I had simply been asleep since August. Something inside of me came back to life, and while singing along to the lyrics of “somebody I used to know” I pushed away the feeling in my heart that knew something big was coming.

I looked at myself in the mirror, how thin and sad my face looked. I looked older now, wrinkles lapping at the edges of my eyes. I somehow believed that it was me who was ruining this. I hadn’t been enough before so how could I be enough now. I worked so hard to ensure that everything was perfect. How I hate that word. I created a blog to display the crafty projects I did around the house, I took up photography, and immersed myself in anything creative. Blake only cared because it gave me something to do. This was the beginning of a giant wave slowly building inside of me. Yet the more I did the emptier I felt.

I began thinking that I was in the wrong career; perhaps this was the source of my unhappiness. Perhaps I simply needed more friends, or more hobbies. For a small while we all believed that the lack of these things was the reason I was so terribly sad.
Isn’t it strange how your whole world can shift and not a soul notices it? A small and unimpressive shift which somehow manages to change the very essence of who you are. Sometimes these shifts come in the form of a thought, a near death experience, a movie that moves us in an inexplicable way, maybe a friend who we run into after many years, or a family member being a little too honest. My shift came with time, building and building like a wave, until one day, I was completely different. And everything was exactly the same.

I had lost so much of myself over those last months, I had gone from someone so confident to someone who could hardly look her superiors in the eye, I had somehow forgotten all of the things I had once loved about myself and life. When I noticed this shift in December so much growth had already taken place. I realised that something wasn’t right, that I wasn’t ok, I just hadn’t figured out why yet, even though it was right before my eyes.

I believe that when we fail to listen to that feeling in our soul, that “uneasy, something just isn’t right” feeling, the universe takes over and sends us bigger messages until we can no longer ignore the obvious. My messenger came in the form of Mark, sweet sweet Mark, the very duplicate of myself in a very handsome package.  He was a co-worker that I had worked with for the past four years, I had never seen Mark as anything other than “Mark who worked down the hall”. Until through a series of fortuitous events we were brought into each other’s lives.

It began simply and innocently a strange electrical chemistry that flared violently between us. I denied the feelings that started to develop and convinced myself that I was simply reaching out to a friend when I felt alone, a feeling I was far too accustomed to feeling. I would simply push a button and was instantly consoled by Marks gentle and affirming voice.

Over those next few months, Mark gave me a beautiful. He made me remember what it was like to feel again, whether it was the guilt of talking to him, the anticipation of seeing him down the hall, the thump of my heart beat in my chest. I hadn’t felt anything for so very long, and the thrill of feeling anything other than numb was exhilarating. He made me feel beautiful again, feel as if I was worth something, anything, to anyone. He made me feel as if I deserved to be happy, and ultimately made me feel really and truly what the lack of "feeling" had done to me, how hollow and empty I had become.

Mark was a catalyst in my life, he was the strength I didn’t have, and he was the voice that said get up when I was just too tired. He was the voice that said you are strong and beautiful when I didn’t believe it. He was everything I needed.

Thursday, 10 October 2013

Letter to a childhood love and friend.

Don't be afraid to look at the things that unsettle you in life, God/the Universe has put them there to unnerve you, to shake your life up enough so that you can grow and see yourself from a different perspective. What I've learned so far is that this life is ultimately a way to learn to quiet the mind long enough to be able to truly follow your heart; people are brought in and out of your life to help you to reach your self, to help you to love as purely and truly as you can...because that's when you are most in tune with the universe, that’s when you are that part of yourself that connects every living being, the part that is life, the part that is eternal.

Monday, 30 September 2013

On pregnancy.

A friend of mine miscarried her baby, I can’t even begin to imagine the pain and emptiness she must feel. If only we could send bits of strength and courage to help her heal. Something I admire so much about her is the way she loved that baby, she taught me that just because a pregnancy isn’t very far along, and the chances of losing life are high, doesn’t mean we should be afraid to love that little being. That tiny life deserves love no matter how certain its chances of survival are. Loving someone always makes us vulnerable, whether a fetus, partner, family member or friend. We could lose them at any moment, the pain doesn’t mean they weren’t worth loving, it means that their life brought us joy whether for 10 years, 10 weeks, 10 days or a lifetime. The world is a better place because of that love, we are better people for having loved.

Good directions.

I suppose I’ve learned a lot throughout this process, I’ve learned that we create our own happiness, that sometimes you have to be a disappointment and you have to be ok with that even when others aren’t. I’ve learned that Friday nights are lonely, and friends mean everything. That cooking for one sucks, that bills are awfully persistent and that money always runs out. I’ve learned that boys in bars are obnoxiously annoying, but that the lack of them is far worse. I’ve learned that love isn’t always enough, that it should be but it just isn’t. I’ve learned that when I get knocked down I will get up again, I’ve watched my heart shrivel and withdraw into itself, I’ve learned that even your darkest moments come to an end, I’ve learned that every day is different, each day brings its challenges and each day brings with it something to cherish. I know I still have a long road ahead, I’m much further from where I began, if only someone would be so kind as to point me in the right direction.


Thursday, 29 August 2013

Moving on.

It’s one of those days where I feel physically ill, my insides knotted into a clump, my head pounding with each heart beat; worst of all I feel so very alone. These days come less, and with that comes a promise that this shall all someday pass. some days everything feels ok. This tiny apartment that costs too much, my car that has a personal vendetta against me, my beautiful Grade Three’s, the absence of my pup, the many changed relationships and hollow phone calls with boys. Amidst the beginnings of this new life I’m building, I manage to find a little bit of peace, some happiness, and hope. Through Yoga, visits with friends, sometimes just a special moment, I manage to find excitement for the life that waits. Yet today I am unable to leave this damn squeaky bed, I’m riddled with thoughts that perhaps Blake and I should just work it out. Life was so easy with him. Bills always paid, garbage’s taken out, cars filled up and maintained, plenty of money to spend. It becomes harder to grip onto the memories of hurt from those last months, of the loneliness, of our quiet empty home where dreams hung in the air just out of reach. I know he loved me and he still does, but was it ever enough? Is it now? He’s quick to be there for me if I need anything, like money for the contact lenses I can no longer afford. His final words play over in my mind “I cried a lot when I went home last time I saw you, do you think it’s because I feel guilty for how sad you are, or cause I miss you?” what an awful thing to say, is it possible that we both just need to move on? And how exactly does one do that?

Kiss tomorrow goodbye-Luke Bryan

click here to listen

Tuesday, 27 August 2013


I drove past our house today, little green trees sat outside the garage and a giant decorated tree shone through the window. Two black figures moved inside, ghosts.  
I look back at the last 5 months. 5 months’ worth of devastation, houses crumbling, lives shattering, everything is different, and although it feels like I could look behind me and literally see the storm head moving slowly away from me, I don’t dare. I’m shaken and disoriented, to the world I look lost and broken, but inside I am growing stronger than I’ve ever been. I miss him and our precious life, my past, our dog, having a sense of belonging and home, love, and being loved. I have to begin to trust that there is something or someone out there for me, something that makes this worthwhile. But with this attitude nothing ever will be.

Sunday, 30 June 2013


Time heals all? Perhaps. Maybe we simply find ways to mask the incredible pain that lingers, simple Band-Aids that keep the thoughts at bay until forgotten memories rip quietly and quickly at our feeble bandages. Two more months have passed and I cringe as I remember where I was.
Is it ok? No it isn’t, it’s the saddest story in the world, and I’s something that shouldn’t have happened, but does so often. Am I fine? Yes, am I happy? Sometimes, do I regret anything? No. do I miss him?

Sunday, 2 June 2013

You always were.

Am I enough?
Yes you are beautiful brave girl.
I love who you are and what you stand for;
I love your flaming courage and the way you
fling yourself into the world with reckless regard.
I am so proud of how far you’ve come.
You fought for your happiness and it was enough,
you always were.

Thursday, 30 May 2013

I love her.

Change everywhere! I stare into the mirror at the freckled face framed by a dark blonde bob and big black framed glasses; New hair, new glasses, new shirt, new apartment, new routines, new life, old Nella?
I have been completely overwhelmed with the sheer business of life over the past two weeks. Baffled at how everything, life as I know it has moulded and shaped into something I no longer recognise, I stepped off the plane and into a world that I no longer have a place in. I wrap an old blanket around me and walk out onto the 8th floor balcony of the condo I'm staying at; staring in awe at the lightning that illuminates the entire city sky line. This is my storm.
The monstrous rumbling thunder, the cars rushing below, the rain pelting down, washing away the sins of the day. People move like ants inside their dimly lit apartments, and all of a sudden I realise that the world is exactly the way I left it all those months ago. All that has really changed is me. It's me who finally decides what that change will be, I can decide where this life will take me, old Nella? Nope. Before me stands a more mature, wiser, and stronger woman, and I love her more than ever before.


Thursday, 23 May 2013


I grabbed random belongings and ran to Emma's house. Those dark days lit only by her hand shaking me awake throughout the night to quieten my screams. Her iPod softly played Jack Johnson to chase away the dark.
I had a trip booked to see my cousin; I considered cancelling but realized I could use the break.
I arrived and tried to pretend that nothing had happened, covering the dark circles under my eyes with as much makeup as they could hold. Admitting what had happened would mean it was true, how could it be? As the days passed the sadness took over, and while her beautiful little girls slept in the backseat I finally broke down and cried telling her everything.
With her help and support, I decided I wasn't ready to give up on him, that this was marriage and you fought with everything you had to make it work. It had to be enough, it's all I had.
After a week away I returned to him, to our home, and I gave it an honest effort. We saw a counsellor, we had rules in place. He was to let me know where he was and when he would be home, he wasn't to get drunk without me; he was to call often on business trips. Each pathetic rule was broken, every chance at trust shattered again, again, again. He refused to go back to the counsellor.
Life continued for him as if nothing had changed; he would get frustrated with the shadow of me that was left. I incessantly cleaned, baked and decorated, our home transformed into absolute hollow beauty. We bought things to fill the holes in our chests, hot tubs, couches, and clothes, things. They left us more hollow then before.
I would go through days of trying really hard, I would do sweet things for him like make a special dinner, or leave him sweet notes in his car. A few days later I would fall apart. I believed I was crazy.
During those three months I became a zombie, the memories from that time are grey and dull and empty. The most memorable memory is when Blake went on a ski trip for work and "forgot" his phone; wild nights of drinking and fun fill his memory, crying alone on the floor of our home fill mine. In fact most of those grey nights were spent alone, my hot water-bottle desperately trying to fill the cold in that empty king sized bed.

Wednesday, 22 May 2013

Who Shall I be?

Clarity has washed over me like the moment when you burst from the water, having held your breath too long. My lungs sting with new air, my eyes adjust to the bright sunlight, my soul reborn from the depths, a simple longing, who am I and who shall I be?

live differently

"I wanted to give people a second chance, a way of viewing the world and their relation to the world with different eyes. That does not necessarily mean a happy ending; simply another chance to live life differently." -Sarah Winman (When God was a Rabbit)

Wednesday, 8 May 2013

Three things.


I've never understood why in life we need to grow through pain, it seems like such a cruel joke. One of these instances arose during my stay on the island; I could no longer hold it together. Regret began to paralyse me, tears streamed uncontrollably from my puffy eyes as I lay in the dark, desperately trying to catch my breath longing for this pain to stop. I always wondered how there were medications for everything in the world; how we could fly to the moon but there wasn’t a pill to console a broken heart.

My Aunt pushed my bedroom door open and looked at her broken niece, she wrapped her arms around me and told me that I had made the right choice, that from the moment I had walked in she knew I was done, she knew it was over. She told me that it was ok to still love and miss him and that I would for a long time as he had been a very special part of my life, she told me that it was ok to let him go, it was ok to do what I felt was right because everyone knows what they can and can’t live with and in the end only I could be the one to decide, and that’s exactly what I was doing. My Uncle joined us and lay on my other side while I shook between them, he gave me a sleeping pill to calm my nerves, he told me I was beautiful and that I was going to be more than ok, that this would always be a home for me, that they loved me no matter what. He reminded me that I had come there to clear my head, which had been unhappy and confused for so long; he reminded me that this would be a long and hard journey but that I would make it through stronger than I went in. They held me until the tears stopped, and looking back I couldn’t be more thankful for the unbelievable love they showed me that night. How unbelievably blessed I am to have them and to have been there with them, to love and be loved by them. All three of us grew that night, it was my pain that brought us together, but it was our love that changed something inside of us. In the end we ultimately grow through love, the pain is merely a catalyst for that love to find its way. 

Sunday, 5 May 2013

Salty air and blistering sunshine.

I’ve spent the last 5 weeks with my Aunt and Uncle in Barbados, this land has cleansed me with salty air and blistering sunshine. Sand is constantly stuck to me and these precious days are spent eating flying fish sandwiches, taking surfing lessons, midnight skinny dipping, and getting lost between the pages of many beautiful books.
Every Sunday night we get dressed up and head down to “Charlie’s” a little beat up restaurant on the beach. It is run by no other than Charlie himself, who is a raging alcoholic. I can’t help but like him, he always plays Bob Marley and has a sadness about him that strangely draws me in. We have our roast beef dinner and Yorkshire pudding with friends from all over the island. As Reggae tones fill the sticky air. Stories of my parent’s childhood emerge and favourite life moments are relived. As soon as the sun sets behind the turquoise water all that can be heard is the howling of the frogs, and I know that somewhere inside me my heart is still beating.


Tuesday, 23 April 2013

Every Storm (runs out of rain) Gary Allan

Click to listen


It looks as if someone has taken a toothbrush covered in light brown ink and splattered it across my face, freckles…a sign that my soul is filled with sunshine. Two or three weeks have passed, although I can’t be entirely sure as I’ve lost track of time, something that has indeed been a blessing. It’s definitely not easier, just clearer, and with the ins and outs of days which pass as a slow slumberous breath, I begin to have hope for the future that lies ahead; Uncurling and wild, untouched. A deep sadness still anchors my heart; I fight it off with a weak promise that we will always be friends. Something he won’t promise, something he can’t. I tell myself that I’ll fight for him, no longer as a husband but as a friend. I’ll be there for him always, always?

Saturday, 2 March 2013

B. R. E. A. T. H. E

Time ebbs and flows as if it has become liquid, oozing out of days, drowning the nights. My mind is plagued by answer-less questions. I shut my phone off; try to quieten the world I writhe within, the world I've left in shards.
Somewhere inside of me, that tiny flame burns. Quietly melting the wax which simultaneously feeds and suffocates it. Storm winds gust around it, the flame flickers and spits, smoke masking its light.
The smoke clears and a tear of wax runs down the side of the candle. The flame flickers.
It can breathe.


Thursday, 21 February 2013



The sounds of the plane engines calm my broken soul, I try to sip at a ginger ale but my stomach has curled into itself like a scared hedgehog. Nine months of pain flash before me-crackly slides on a flickering projector.
With August 7th came our first anniversary, what a perfect day it was. We had a picnic on our lawn, our little dog running between us, taking pictures of one another in the sunshine, eating, drinking, laughing. Glasses of Champagne and a blanket on the floor in front of the naked fireplace we were renovating. Later that night our families came together and we celebrated by sharing the top layer of our wedding cake. I don't think I could have been happier in that moment, forever felt much too short.
A mere seven days later we arrived home from a camping trip, drunk with memories from the weekend, songs around the campfire, while Blake played the guitar, too many drinks, great friends and laughter on the lake.
The memory begins to blur at this point, but I remember setting some of the camping supplies down in my beautiful kitchen, feeling so happy to be home again. I walked to the back door to let the Dog out when my phone buzzed. This is the turning point of my life, in those few short seconds it took for me to read that message, my whole world changed, my universe cracked. I read the words several times in my head, "no one will tell you, so i will- your husband was kissing a girl at a wedding dance in June" I read it again out loud, I remember looking at him in disbelief, his words coldly denying the truth, I knew in my bones that they were true. I spent the next three hours in a field of the school i had always imagined our future children would attend. Those hours spent on the phone, my tears matched one by one by the biting of Mosquitos. His incessant calls, his promises that nothing happened masked by the voice of the person who recalled the night’s events, the other stories that began to surface, how no one believed this was the first time.
How he lied to me in those fragile moments, my heart clinging desperately to any hope that he was telling the truth. He betrayed me twice that day; the first time when he let me walk out that door, a second time when he let me walk back in with her on the other line. I can still hear her voice echoing throughout the walls of our house "He wasn't wearing a ring, he didn't tell me he was married, I'm sorry"
It was at that moment that Blake truly lost me, within those minutes that his beautiful blushing bride recoiled into herself and died.
He watched her.


Sunday, 17 February 2013


The night I had been so desperately longing for slowly crept upon us. My nails were polished, my hair curled into perfect ringlets, I was more than ready for the magic the night would hold. I noticed how jittery he was, how he kept checking the window. Finally he said it was time to go, I was shaking already, trying to take in every minute. My hand moulded within his grasp, our fingers effortlessly entwined as he led me down to the parking lot of the condo we had recently purchased.
My friend Olivia's voice from months prior entered my head "you can't just live with her you know" she scolds, Blake turned away, I laughed nervously.

Pulled back to the present by the opening of my car door, Blake reached around me into the car for something then slammed the door before I could get in. "That was rude" I frowned. He smiled "We have other means of transportation" the excitement shone through those beautiful emerald eyes, how I was lost in them, on that night and for all of those that followed.

Thursday, 17 January 2013


As time slips by my heart softens. Memories seep in through every crack and crevice, tears sting my eyes and a terrible ache settles into my bones. I look down at my empty stomach and know that by now it should have been filled with life. Why? I ask, have I been led down this path? What is the purpose for this pain? These choices? This outcome? I've decided to leave what is left of "home" for the duration of the summer, we all agree that I need to go and find some peace. At this point hope feels like sand slipping through my fingers. Some of it remains, sticky. Determined. 

Thursday, 10 January 2013


There I was 21 years old, innocent and sweet, my new dress sparkling in the glow of the bathroom lights. Blonde curls bobbed around my round and freckled face. I was standing in the very restaurant where a mere year and a half later I would be celebrating my last “single” night. Emma stood before me shaking with anticipation, her hazel eyes glowing with excitement. She had only just learned the date of a momentous occasion I had so eagerly been awaiting. I jumped up and down begging for her to tell me the date; after all, I wanted to be prepared for the occasion. She finally gave in, as Emma always does, “He’s going to propose to you on Valentine’s Day” instantly regretting her decision, she looked down at her red leather pumps and whispered “don’t ever tell him I told you! Please?”
"I won’t” I promised.
I never did.

Breakdown by Jack Johnson

click to listen

Saturday, 5 January 2013


If I had been somebody else it could have been ok. I imagine I am that I've been able to forgive him and move towards everything good that held us together. For a brief moment I feel a flutter of hope from a place I no longer remember.
I'm not entirely certain who I am exactly, which parts of me have been left behind, which parts came along. What is left? 
The blinding pain I felt after those terrifying, anonymous words shattered everything I had ever built for myself, continue to destroy every promise I've ever clung to.
My thoughts drift back to our wedding day, those beautiful foggy memories, and ones that I'm certain can only be produced in the light of young, blind love. Fresh snow, untouched, except for two sets of fucking perfect footprints, how far apart those footprints have diverged, it's hard to remember that they were ever side by side.


Could I have tried harder? Could things indeed be different? The truth lies in the fact that they simply aren't.