The last few weeks have been a very stressful time. So much change has happened, inwardly and outwardly, and I feel unsettled and stressed. I’ve had a constant feeling of anxiety; the sick feeling, the constant feeling of being on edge because too much happened at once. We moved out of our old home, became semi homeless for a week, sleeping on my Dad’s floor, before moving into a new house . The new house was an absolute tip because my sister, Millie, who lived there before us, wrecked the place. I have spent three weeks trying to sort it out and still haven’t broken the back of it yet. We had a week of disasters ranging from water pouring through the kitchen ceiling, twice, in two different areas and then I received the very stressful news that Katie has to have a major operation to straighten her spine because it’s so severe that without corrective surgery it will start to affect her ability to breathe and eat properly. Alice has also been ill for the last few months which we haven’t been able to get to the bottom of, Annie was ill, I was ill both of us while trying to pack the old house up and to top it all off, we found fleas in our new house which meant I had to clean it all from top to bottom to rid the place of them.
I’m exhausted. I’ve had builders in every day for almost three weeks, we’re all sharing one room to sleep in and I desperately need some space and my days back to normal with the house to myself. During all the stress, I realised that I don’t love Phil enough and I never have. Moving from a house where I felt totally alone and isolated to one where I can see other people every time I look out of the window, and I can be in town in just a few minutes has opened my eyes to the fact that I was attracted by Phil’s company rather than being attracted to him. The fact is, physically I am not drawn to him one little bit. Instead of trying to change who I am, I’m accepting that I need to be physically attracted to someone to love them, that them being ‘nice’ isn’t enough for me. On the subject of nice I’ve seen a different side of Phil. He is clingy and slightly possessive and I know if I were to stay with him, that he would suffocate me, such is his need to try and hold on to me. It’s as though his fear of me leaving him is so great that he’s trying his best to smother me with his love to stop me getting away, whereas what it’s actually doing is pushing me away even quicker. It’s going to happen anyway because I don’t feel what I think I should feel with him. I never in a million years thought I would say this, but I am tired of being told how much I am loved, how wonderful I am, how beautiful he finds me and how much he wants to marry me. It’s like a constant overindulgence on his part. He seems to overindulge in most things in life. He eats too much, he drives too fast, he loves too heavily but really what he’s doing isn’t love, it’s fear. Love for me isn’t an all-consuming closeness and a need to always be together and showing that love, that’s suffocation. I’m a free spirit, highly independent and I hate anyone being so on top of me, I feel like I can’t breathe. He’s childish and immature and I find that so incredibly unattractive. I have four children, I do not need another one in my life. We went away for the weekend that I’d planned for myself and he actually grabbed my breasts, squeezed them and said ‘Honk!’ Never have I been so repulsed by a grown man. I told him my body was something to be respected and not treated as a child’s plaything. All he could do was laugh like a teenage boy.
I moved house and he insisted on helping. He drove the van and he crashed the van. Twice. His clumsiness is equally as unattractive to me. I like a man to be in control of a situation and of himself, Phil seems to have very few boundaries and is totally out of control, again, much like a child. He pushed and shoved my furniture around as though it didn’t matter whether it got damaged, he rammed my sofa into the hearth then laughed when I complained. I find that so disrespectful especially as he knows how hard I had to work to buy it. He said he’d sort out the washing machine and dishwasher, when I asked if he knew how to do the plumbing, he said he didn’t but that he’d just pull them out and see what happened. At this point, every fibre of my being was crying out for the stability and trustworthiness of Tom, he always treats everything of mine with respect and it means a lot to me. So many of my things got damaged the day I moved and it just seemed that nobody bothered to spend a moment to ensure my possessions were dealt with in the manner they should have been, it was all a big joke and when I spoke up about it Phil told me to stop moaning. I was fuming. When it came to me moving house the second time, from Dad’s floor to my new house, I didn’t want Phil to help, when he said he was going to and I said I’d rather he didn’t, he insisted and did it anyway. I felt totally unheard as though he ignored everything and didn’t listen to a word I said. I avoided him pretty much most of the day.
I haven’t seen Phil since the day I moved here and it’s been lovely. It’s not for the lack of trying on his part though. The day after I moved in he expected to come round and help unpack and paint! Who paints the day they move in and offering to paint when I’ve seen how badly and haphazardly he paints is beyond a joke. I told him no, said I was cleaning and wanted to do it on my own as I genuinely do work better on my own. (I refused all help from everyone for the same reason.) He kept on, I told him he couldn’t anyway as Tom had to come over to sort out some dodgy electrics (Tom is an electrician and my Dad had paid him to do some work) and Phil replied, ‘I can do the electrics for you’ despite not having any training and no qualifications! He sulked when I told him so. He then asked if he could take us out for dinner the next day despite knowing how busy I was and that if I was going to get the house in a level fit for us to sleep in, I needed to get on and clean it thoroughly. He phoned that evening and went on and on and on about helping until I snapped and told him to stop asking but he still didn’t stop. Again, I felt totally unheard. As the weekend ended and the week began he changed tack to needing to come round and bring Annie a playhouse as hers had got damaged during the move. I kept telling him I was too busy, he kept saying he’d just pop round for a few minutes to give me a hug and a kiss neither of which I wanted.
The weekend just gone, I was child-free and he wanted to see me then and had another sulk when I said I was too busy and too stressed and I had to get the house sorted as we’d now found fleas. This was a terrible week of stress and he knew it yet two days earlier he’d sent me a text all about what he wanted me to do to him sexually. My blood boiled. Then it was constant pressure from him about seeing me at the weekend, about just sleeping at his and him relieving my stress, by which he meant through sex. Then it changed to him coming over to help me clean. Yet again, he chose not to hear what I’d been saying. In the end, I blew up, reiterated all the stress I’d been under for weeks and told him he was adding to it. He said he’d give me the space I needed and yet the next day, was texting me with silly things such as needing to know Annie’s shoe size as he’d seen socks he wanted to get her and other such silliness and the only thing he’s really achieved is to push me away further than ever before because he’s just so bloody desperate and needy. So all in all, the last month or so has been one of endless stress and I’m not even sure that it’s all over yet.