Sometimes things become too much. Life and all its twists and turns grab at me and I lay down under it and surrender. You know those days… that very minute you open one eye you know in that microsecond it’s going to be one of THOSE DAYS!!!

I woke yesterday and lay there under my nest of blankets, (Yes, I make a nest, it’s made up of three super soft fleece blankets and a crocheted Afghan) these I swaddle round me tight. I don’t have Jesse to hold me, so this is the next best thing. But I’m digressing yet again! Yesterday I just lay there, energy depleted, doing anything seemed like climbing mountains. (I think that really would have been easier than just getting even one leg out of my safe nest.) I wasn’t hungry, thirsty… even going to the bathroom was something I couldn’t bear thinking about. I should have known then (slaps forehead) I was heading fast towards my old friend depression, black dog, screaming blacks, whatever name you give this, it was hurtling at me at the rate of knots. (And try as I may, I couldn’t halt it.)

I wanted to retreat into myself, that place where I can keep the outside at bay. Yes, it’s dark in there and yes, it’s a place that doesn’t do me any favours, as that’s where I relive my past, revisit my self-critic and all those who did a better job of it for me. But Jesse was there for me and no one gets me better. He’s watched me go through every kind of mood and then some. He has said in the past he has had difficulty reaching me when I go too deep, but his soft voice reaches into the swirling dark mists and pulls me back from the brink.

I spent the day just getting by. I knew I was on the brink, the precipice of that blackness taking me over me. I fought it hard, (Keeping my eyes on my love’s face throughout the day, this guy is my strength, my inspiration) but try as I may that black dog nipped at my heels.

I lay on my bed letting exhaustion overtake me. Not only exhaustion, but this deep sadness, this pain that burnt… seared through to my marrow, my soul (the pain of missing the one you love).

Halfway through the day I thought of poor Jesse looking at this freaky mess, even if was only on video chat. So tentatively I put one leg out from under my blanket nest. (And put it right back in there again, too!) But after several futile attempts I did eventually manage to sit on the side of the bed. (For those with depression, you’ll get the effort needed I do this.)  From there I grabbed my phone with my beloved sitting there working away in his office, and finally managed it down to the bathroom where I successfully brushed my teeth, showered and put on clean PJs.

I sat down with my son for ten minutes for a quick chat to get my breath back… it really did take that much out of me. When I got back upstairs, I lay back on my bed. Everything was just too much effort. I wanted, no, NEEDED to go to the shop to buy groceries having nothing in to eat. But that required dressing, people, and going out doing things like walking. Now, when going to the bathroom and back is like a trek up Kilimanjaro, imagine going to the shop. No, I just couldn’t. It seemed like a step too far. (You might as well have asked me to go to the moon.)

So, there I lay till dinner time. I wasn’t hungry anyway so why worry. Dinnertime I had the talk with myself: “Theresa, you need fuel if nothing else. Eat to replenish lost energy.” (Thank goodness I listened to myself. I don’t always.)

I started the long trek down the stairs again in search of supplies or something, anything to eat. I finally hunted down a stray tin of tomato soup. It was easy prey and I love it. (Good comfort food.) This and some rice cakes I took back to my nest and forced it down. Now, if you know me, you will know I adore food. (Jesse will attest to this. He’s seen me scarf down a bowl of his chilli quicker than the land speed record.) When I can’t be bothered to eat, you know then I’m on shutdown. (This is as bad as my depression gets.) I no longer want anything to do with the outside world.

Jesse was there and I did chat with him off and on. (He’s my darling. how could I not!) But as the evening drew to a close, I felt myself slip further down into the blackness. I just wanted Jesse, wanted him to hold me, rock me in his arms tell me it was going to be ok! I WAS going to be ok.

The blackness threatened to swallow me. And do you know what? I really didn’t care. I wanted to lay under its familiarity, let it take my where it would. I wanted to surrender… wave that white flag above the darkness that I could no longer see my way out of. Yesterday, I knew all I was capable of was just breathing. And that’s no minor feat when every little thing exhausts you… when your mind is crying out for you to go to sleep and never wake up. I flippantly say JUST! But yesterday breathing took all I had. And it was only my love of Jesse that made me do that, hence the title of this. Today, again on waking, I lay ensconced in my soft nest and even opening my eyes felt an overwhelming effort, never mind getting up.

Like I do on shutdown, I lay there just staring at a section of wall. (I know that piece of wall very well now, folks.) A voice penetrated the fog.

“You ok honey?”

I nodded that I was, one of the only times I’ve lied to Jesse, because I was far from alright.

I was about as far from alright as I could get. I could see no chink of light. I couldn’t find my way out of the darkness that smothered me. I turned off the brightly coloured fairy lights that are on my brass bedstead and let the tears slide down my face. Again, all I wanted was Jesse. I could see him. I could hear that voice that soothes, but I needed contact. I needed to bury my head in his chest… smell that woody, earthy fragrance of his cologne… take a moment’s comfort there. I needed him more than ever.

Now Jesse knows when I lay in the dark (which I’m phobic of, by the way) I’m in trouble deep. Again, his hushed calm voice breaks into my solitude.

“Honey… you ok?”

I know I can’t lie again. I hate lies, even from me. I eventually say “No! No, I’m not ok. I’m far from ok. Inside, my head’s screaming. I’m in pain, the most dreadful pain. Each breath without you here or me there is hellish. I don’t want to breathe. This is what’s going through my head. But what I actually say is a scaled down version. I can feel Jesse’s frustration as all he wants is for me to hold me together, while he fights away valiantly to get our Border Patrol case heard… get me back with him forever. He knows I struggle daily with demons in my head and just getting by, sometimes, is all I can contribute. Today I look into his warm soft brown eyes and say the words every lover dreads: “Honey, this is too hard! Life without you is just too hard for me to cope with. I’m not sure I can keep going. I’m in too much pain.”

He looks at me with an honesty that breaks through to me. “Then lie down, rest a while and I’ll carry you in my back if need be.” And I knew what he meant. I understood. But by him giving me permission to just lay there and get my head straight, it was all I needed. By 2pm I had dragged my sorry butt out of my warm nest, washed and taken myself to my second home: Bramley bites. I know I’ve not the money to indulge this whim, but sometimes you must invest a little in your well-being. There I can sit and, if I want to be alone, they get this. They somehow get me. But if they think I need bringing out of myself, then these are the folks to do that very thing. And they do it so very well. Sometimes I wear my mask, that mask I use to hide the deep sadness depression that lurks within, but today within minutes I had strong coffee and good company. We chatted for half an hour and, whether it was the caffeine intake, the company or just the daylight reaching my eyes, I felt better. Now I know I’ve still a way to go on my recovery path, as I’ve not eaten yet and I still feel that sadness, but I managed to actually do a little shopping.

I’m not ready yet to join the living, do peopling of any kind, but thanks to my love and two very special ladies at Bramley’s I can breathe that bit easier. Today I’m not only breathing but ready to work on getting myself out the darkness.

Sorry I’ve not been about to update you, but things haven’t been wonderful. Myself and my love (Jesse ) have gone through many trials and tribulations, lord knows we have. I’ve have one health issue after another. Jesse is writing daily to everyone from the newspapers, MPs, TV, government… he’s working his sweet butt off. I hate I don’t have my man’s confidence and eloquence when it comes to writing. Even though we are both suffering from long bouts of depression, Jesse works tirelessly daily. He has this wonderful optimism I sadly lack.

Anyway we will get to all that later. When I last blogged I was up to Thanksgiving… wonderful time I can still almost taste it. Each day that passed I dreaded. It meant I was one day nearer to going home whereas Jesse seemed as always to look to our future. One day we had the most delightful lunch with two of the sweetest people I’ve ever had the pleasure to meet. They were Jesse’s friends Rocky and Buffy. Again I was nervous… didn’t know quite what to expect. But I shouldn’t have been. Both are sweet and quite literally welcomed me with open arms (as I write this I can’t help but feel sad. I miss them both terribly and I only met them a few times, but felt I’d known them both all my life.) We went to a lovely little restaurant and had the most delicious Chinese food. They all had soft drinks or tea, me being the only Brit, of course, had my favourite (Budweiser). Yeah, I know, but I love the stuff. And, yes, icy cold. (We Brits hate warm beer too despite our reputation. LOL)

Throughout the meal chatter flowed freely. Thanks to everyone I felt quite at home right from the start. It was wonderful to listen to Jesse and his old friend exchange stories from their band days. Both write music, would sing. Jesse played guitar, Rocky drums. I sat quietly listening to the tales and banter. Poor Rocky thought I was bored at one point I was so quiet, (Yeah, I can be quiet. LOL) but nothing was further from the truth. I could almost picture the venue’s, see the smokey clubs, hear the music, feel the excitement. I was living their dream vicariously. I love music and felt part of this wonderful past life they wove so magically between them. Rocky’s eyes lit up as he spoke of band members and the songs they sang. I could almost see them on stage. I felt sad that I hadn’t been there to witness this amazing part of my love’s life.

Our days drifted lazily. Jesse had to work most days. I sat in the office with him reading, writing poetry, sketching (something I hadn’t done in months). I got Jesse hooked on tea, which, as a Brit, I made almost hourly LOL. Jesse by then had me split between tea and coffee. He makes damn good coffee, folks. Often we out in the evening, sometimes just for a drive, other times to our favourite Denny’s. Days drew on and Christmas approached fast. Again this troubled me in a way. As much as I adore Christmas, it meant I was nearer to returning to the UK and away from my man. Jesse tried so hard to make me see the positive. Quicker I went back, quicker I could return, but all I knew I was about to have my heart wrenched out.

One day Jesse, trying to cheer me up, took me to his local nursery. He thought it would be good for me to see all the Christmas decorations. (‘Course it was and I loved it.) I couldn’t get over the price difference from GB to USA mind but Jesse, not quite knowing how into Christmas I was, was just about to find out. I held his hand tightly as ever as we went in, but within minutes he lost me. Well, sort of, because before long he found me again by following the sounds. LOL. He told me when we left even though he couldn’t see me, all he heard was OH WOW! every five minutes and he followed this and soon tracked me excitedly looking at some glittery tree ornament or another. We chose one, a pretty little candle that lit up, and also bought a bag of monkey nuts for the squirrels that I had made fast friends with. Couple of weeks later we went out to find our Christmas tree. We located one in the wilds of a local shopping centre. Jesse chopped it down. OK, OK… he put it in our shopping trolley with the balls and ribbons we had both chosen for decorating said tree. That night Jesse put up the tree and we both enjoyed decorating it like a couple of over grown kids. Cumzi helped best he could by sitting back bemused at the pair of us. We ooooed and awwwwed and sat on the sofa, lights out, looking at the wonder of our 6ft, white lit beauty. Jesse’s eyes sparkling as he sat quietly for a moment, then turned to me and said softly ‘I love our tree‘. Thought he was going to saying ‘I love you, Treez‘ but, hey, you can’t have it all can you.

We sat that night watching TV with a glass of wine. Jesse made dinner. Many times we just found our eyes wandering over to our tree. We held each other close that night, both of us looking forward to waking up in each arms on that very first special Christmas morning… both of us full of joy and love at the fact we would share such a day.

To be continued…

When you have been granted the honour of sampling heaven on earth, does not mere life become cruel? You spend your days looking to return to those days you lived in the world created for and by two people, just ordinary people, but with a love for one another that is so strong it couldn’t be denied. Neither could turn their backs on something so pure, so gentle, yet full of a fire that burnt through their veins. When looking into someone’s eyes, you lose yourself totally and merge into one being for that moment. For that briefest of eternities you float in time, for time is lost… has no meaning. For that heartbeat he is you and you him. Flames dance, burn and flicker around you. It glows like part of you, where one kiss, so soft, so gentle, can quell my deepest fears… send my heart a-tremble yet ignite my blood… where one ‘I love you‘ is more precious than anything else of value, one has indeed found heaven and I live each day to return to the heaven I found in my love’s arms. Jesse Cole, I love you. x

I’m sorry I’ve not been about for some time folks, but due to circumstances way beyond my control I’ve not been at my best I’m afraid. Hell… who am I trying to kid here! I’ve been going through my own private hell. See, what I’d not mentioned yet and will go into more detail as mine and Jesse’s story unfurls is exactly what happened to me on my last trip out to see my man. I promise I will fill in these gaps, but for now I’m here in England, my love there in the USA. Now some would argue I knew this before I fell in love with him, that distance would be a problem. All we both know is the heart wants what it wants, and it will go where it will. I had no choice with falling in love with Jess. It just kind of grew and blossomed. But here we are oceans apart. Might as well be the moon for all we know. I also know despite seeing him via video chat 24/7 it’s not the same as being there with him. We chat, we sleep, eat, breathe together, but I can’t hold him in my arms, I can’t kiss him, even just sit next to him and rest my head on his shoulder while watching TV.

The last two months have been a living hell for us both. Both of us feel the loss of the others company desperately. Gradually over the weeks it’s crept up on me and my already tired nerves are shattered. See, way back I had fought Agoraphobia, anxiety, PTSD to get myself over to Jess in the first place. Now my nerves are back, letting themselves be felt… in fact, screaming at me. It’s this evil separation that I just can’t withstand. Seeing Jess, yet not being physically there, it’s eating away slowly at my soul. I am barely functioning… just existing in some kind cruel paradox of limbo where you can see and hear the one you love, be near his world but behind glass. I knew about love, folks… well, knew of its existence. What I didn’t know was how it is to fall this deeply. See, no one warns you. No one could. Jess is part of me now. He is my heart, my every breath. When I’m not by his side, yes, life goes on, but not for me. I find myself struggling to eat. If I do it’s rubbish food. Sleeping has always been hit or miss, now I lay watching Jess sleep for hours, longing to be at his side where I would feel safe from the demons that lay waste in my head each night. Jess calms those just by his mere presence. Although he’s there, I’m needing his arms around me.

Daily now I find myself slipping further into the despair. That has no name I can think of; breakdown, shutdown, meltdown, depression… to mention some things even to compare it with. I’d say it’s a desert I wander in longing to find the oasis that is Jess. Seriously, I can’t even explain this physical pain that is so so real, it’s my constant companion, like some savage huge red-eyed giant, clawed beast that’s following me, waiting for me to fall so it can attack. I can no longer think straight. I’ve shut myself away in a small room, closed myself away from those who I need so badly to help me through this. None of them can reach me., It’s like I live in this cage not of my own making and, although warm hands reach my way, sweetest love in their hearts, I can’t see them. All I see is this misery that twists in my mind and heart. I don’t mean to not let them in, but this world of constant pain makes this decision for me. I’m just so exhausted, yet rest avoids me. I’ve a constant hunger that gnaws at my gut but not for food.

Each day I hurtle further into this black world and, I confess, I’m scared I’m never coming back. The only thing that holds me is this cord attached to my phone… and to Jess. The times I can’t reach him or he needs to hang up, I shake, I can’t breathe. I pace like a wild animal captured. My head thinks of a thousand things to torment me with; my own private bully beats me mercilessly. It tells me untruths worse than any person could think of. I try so hard to talk myself down, use the tools I’ve found worked for me before, but this frantic panic will not let me listen.

I cry each night alone in the dark. It’s not me feeling sorry for myself, it’s just this endless pain. Where will it end? To be very honest, I fear I don’t know. I do know each night I pray that my God gives me a way, a path that leads to Jess or show me what’s required of me. I know Jess feels his own pain. I sit some days watching him sitting head in his hands. He says daily “I wish you were here to hold“. That tears into my heart because, folks, if I could have a year with this man I’d give up forever right here, right now. I vow this! Anything to be with him. For my loved ones I’m deeply sorry I neglect you. I hate it, but this place I wander in doesn’t give me the choice. To the most wonderful man in the world, keep me anchored, honey, because I fear without your love I swear I’d wander off into the darkness and not find my way back.

This, folks, is why I’ve not written until now. Those in their own private hells I sympathize with wholeheartedly. I hope you can find that path back soon. And to my daughter, thank you for not judging me. But I know our closeness of the past allows you to reach in and see where I’m at… and see this living hell. I glimpse you on my darkest paths, Beck, and know you’re there. You and Jess find me often and shed a little light when I’m lost and alone… bring me back to you. Stay near, my loves, for I need you both more than I ever have. Sorry this isn’t a happy post, folks, but those of you who have loved know its pain well. Love to you all xx

More later…

Our days soon found their own routine. We would wake late after nights of watching TV curled up on the sofa. Cumzi, by now, had made his way from the back of the sofa where he would normally spend his nights to being tangled up in my legs among my fleece blanket. I loved this as it meant he had excepted me as part of his family. I cuddled up to his dad, he cuddled up to me.

I’d met up a few times by now with Jess’s cousin, Pam. She welcomed me from the beginning, think she realized just how much I loved her cousin who she’s always been close to. We went out one day for a drive around the older parts of town. The houses were so pretty. It was a lovely time of year, the trees all in the autumnal gowns, bedecked in beautiful scarlet, orange, yellows, gold and a little green left… brown leaves piled on lawns to be cleared or left in bags by the side of the road. The sky was a beautiful clear blue and the sun shone warming the afternoon. It didn’t feel like October at all. We had a late lunch while out and chatted like old friends. There was absolutely no awkwardness, no pauses. That was mainly because I can talk for England, folks. But in Pam I found a wonderful companion… very warm and a joy to be with.

I didn’t panic at not being with Jess which is a compliment to how Pam is, as I’d not been out of Jess’s sight since I’d arrived. I found it hard being in a different country without the security of him at my side. He didn’t seem to mind this though, in fact, I’d say he welcomed it. I digress again… Pam took me home. After we found it, that is. Jess had let loose on American roads two woman who had no sense of direction. Even the phone SatNav seemed to sound puzzled. But Pam was a trooper and found the way without to much ado. I swear when she told me that she didn’t know the way back, I’d had visions of us driving around till dusk and then calling one very bemused Jess asking him where we were. But that would have been okay. I’d enjoyed my traveling companion’s company. (I think she was glad we didn’t get too lost though as she told Jess later “I thought Tess was so quiet. She soon came out of her shell. Boy can she talk! LOL Poor Pam.

Jess by now had also taken me out to meet his daughter and her lovely family. I’d been extremely nervous at meeting them all. What would they make of this strange British fiance of their dad’s. I need not have worried though. They were, again, very welcoming over a lovely dinner in an Italian restaurant. No one I had met in Jess’s family had not, so far, welcomed me with open arms. I never felt left out at all.

Firm plans were made for my first ever Thanksgiving. We were going to meet up with all Jess’s children and grandchildren for breakfast, then onto Pam’s and aunt Jean’s for the Thanksgiving dinner. I really looked forward to meeting everyone but confess I was a little nervous. (As it turned out I need not have been. They are all warm, lovely people. Totally amazing.) I will tell you all about my Thanksgiving dinner later. These folks made it something I will never forget for the rest of my life. That evening we sat full of the most wonderful food. No one leaves Aunt Jean’s hungry. LOL We sat like a couple of stuffed turkeys dozing on the sofa, Cumzi at my side as always.

We eventually woke up in the early hours. Jess looked at me. “You hungry?” ‘Course I was. I’m a foodie. I can always eat. He suggested the delightful Denny’s for (get this…) dinner. (Take into account it’s 3am now.) Hey. Why the hell not? It’s chilly out, but I love the fact I’ve met someone else who doesn’t mind getting up in the night and driving. I love nothing more than this. It’s kind of like bucking the trend. Every normal person, I believe, is dreaming of doing things like this. And here we are laughing like kids at the Comedy Channel on the radio and going out for yet another Thanksgiving dinner. LOL We had it all… roast turkey, stuffing, creamy mash, broccoli, creamed corn… all ,smothered in thick gravy. This served with garlic bread and steaming coffee. I ate the lot. It’s on this very night we discovered our usual, LOL, our usual being something we would have regular after that night: a dessert of beautiful tart apple topped with a sugary sweet crunchy topping. This served piping hot and topped with vanilla ice cream. It was heaven and once tried always asked for. LOL We left an hour later, hand-in-hand, full to the brim, to go back home to bed. This we were to repeat many times during the weeks I was there.

To be continued…

This isn’t the sweet story of myself and Jess, this is the story of Treez. She’s still me but the me that came before the incredible meeting of a wonderful man who would change my whole life.

I grew up with an overbearing mother. Okay… some would say abusive. I just did what I could to get through and please her. I can always remember from early age being called stupid, thick, an idiot, ugly and many other names. I once overheard a conversation in my mum’s living room with her sisters (my aunts) and her about having me put away in a “special” home. I was about five, no older, I think, and that stayed with me all these years. I felt rejected, dejected, broken like some toy thrown by the wayside, no longer played with as it wasn’t perfect like the others. See, I was born with HMS, or Hyper Mobility Syndrome. This meant I had issues with my joints, pain, bowel problems, bladder issues and, most devastating, learning difficulties. Okay, I was only half second behind my siblings, but it caused my mum and family to single me out as deficient, not quite right in the head, a cause of mirth, teasing. But I managed to live through this thanks to the love I had from my father.

When I was sixteen I had a trauma no child should go through, let alone just survive. I’m not going into details because neither you nor I need them to get the picture, but it left me very scarred. In fact, scarred for life, I’d say. I never shared it with my family, didn’t think they would care or they would lay the blame on me, which later down the years was proven true. I can remember that night standing scrubbing myself raw at the bathroom sink in the dark so as not to waken anyone, washing my mouth out with carbolic soap as mum never bought us tooth brushes or tooth paste. I shivered all alone, scared, confused. I really went into myself for months… no one to ask about what had happened to me.

Some time after this I fell pregnant with my amazing daughter. She was the result of a friendship I had with a guy who tried to help with my trauma and months of turning in on myself. I’d had to hide my pregnancy right till days before. My mum had said she would make any of her girls have an abortion if she found one of us pregnant. I hid my precious bump under baggy clothes, again terrified of what my mum would do if it was discovered. I’d had some of her beatings in the past so I was scared for both mine and my baby’s life. Outside the house I talked endlessly to my child, running my hand over my small lump. It had to come out inevitably as it did after a doctor’s visit. I was dragged to the hospital. I can’t remember much about it… it went by in a blur. I do remember being stripped naked and laying on a table, shivering, not from cold, but from being touched, prodded, poked like a piece of meat. My old trauma chose then to call with a vengeance. I just shut down. This wasn’t happening to me, this was someone else in my place. I’d gone from my head. It’s all I could do to cope.

Becky was born two days later. I was very ill during her birth, cut from one end to the other as I was too tiny to give birth without forceps. I also faded in and out as it turned out I was really sick with blood poisoning. I eventually went home with my baby. I was told they would decide later what was best for her. THEY would, not ME!!!!.

Life was hell. I wasn’t allowed to leave the house at all. If I was, it was to go to the shop for mother. She timed me to the second. Let’s skip ahead 18 months and mum had a heart attack. She was very ill but survived it. I took over running the house as well as having a young daughter to care for. Around this time dad allowed me to go out occasionally while mum was in hospital. Guess he felt sorry for me in a way. I met a man via what was a new trend back then: CB radio. I loved mine. It allowed me to talk to people while I was locked in my home. This man showed me attention, seemed lovely, didn’t mind I had a daughter. We seemed to get along okay. Then I did a stupid thing. I fell pregnant with another child. My mother called me every kind of whore she could lay her mind to. I didn’t disabuse her of this as I believed her words, but now I know all I wanted really was to be loved, accepted, wanted… I needed to find someone to help me escape the so called ‘family’ home. I think he saw that.

We moved into a small two-bedroom apartment after our son was born. From then on my life again became controlled. This wasn’t the love and freedom I so badly longed for and needed. Again I was ridiculed, told I was useless, couldn’t cook, couldn’t do anything right. I was fat, ugly. I believed this as I’d heard it all my life. I waited on him hand and foot because that’s how I was raised. Mum taught us girls that men were god’s to be obeyed, worshiped. He worked, but I raised our children. His words: “I hate kids.” I cleaned, cooked, made him coffee. Everything, anything for his comfort. I even bathed him for God’s sake! I had little freedom and if I put makeup on I was told ‘Why are you doing that? It makes no difference. You’re still ugly.’ I had hair down to my bottom. I wasn’t allowed to have it cut or I was told that I would be locked out.

Things grew steadily worse over the years. Between him and my mum I was bullied until I honestly thought I deserved my lot. I guess I just did the best I could to survive. If I got ill I was screamed at. If his dinner wasn’t ready or the house cleaned I was screamed at. At thirty-seven I developed a huge tumor in my stomach. The pain, folks, was like nothing on earth. I was vomiting daily, living on the occasional bite of food as I couldn’t keep down anything else. Painkillers were my best friends. They took the edge away… some, but not all, of the agony I suffered daily. Getting out of bed was hell. I hurt everywhere. I was in agony… but there he stood, hands on hips: “Where’s my dinner?” screaming in my face as I did my best not to pass out. I’d give in, crawl out of bed and make his food… clean up and crawl back. I had lost a lot of weight. I cried with pain in my bed each night, yet, still, he selfishly wouldn’t allow me to sleep when I could. If I did not give in he threatened to not feed my children. If I still refused, well… don’t ask.

By now I was also suffering from PTSD, agoraphobia, anxiety attacks and hadn’t left my house in ten years. In fact, I couldn’t even touch my door without anxiety. One day when the pain grew extreme, I decided to go to the hospital. Those that knew me well knew now I was in pain. I’d never gone anywhere in all those years. I had issues at the hospital but it was discovered I had this huge 7lb tumor mixed up within my womb, tubes, bowels… it was a mess… and I had to have a hysterectomy. Thank goodness… before I’d had our youngest son but still I’d wanted more children. I longed for a big family. But I was alive, so that was something, I guess.

Things eased a little at home, well… for about a year anyway. My health problems increased. I had cataracts so bad at one point I couldn’t see for months, but I was at least going out some. Never by myself though… wasn’t confident enough to cope. Next when I was forty came breast cancer. This should have told me how low I had sunk by then as, like many illnesses before, I got through my operation. Dreaded chemo, radio therapy but, by now, I think I’d truly died inside. I knew I was alive somehow but I was numb… like most of me had died on the operating table and I was just waiting for the rest of me to catch up. It’s so hard to describe, really, but I think I just got through the days in some kind of limbo. I’d suffered much abuse, although my ex would swear on a Bible I didn’t. I think the man actually lived in contempt of me. If anything in his day went wrong it was me that he took it out on. I was belittled in front of friends, lied to about numerous affairs, lied about constantly to anyone who would listen. He delighted in making sure people thought me the lowest of the low. He played his ‘woe is me‘ part to perfection. Ladies loved it. Like most bullies, to the outside world he could be charming… a happily married family man. Most could never believe his propensity for abuse, his serial affairs, his physical violence, his penchant for forcing me to bed by withholding food from the children I love, his spending all our money for himself leaving me to face the bailiffs who came to collect… spending our money needed to feed the kids to buy things for his train set and fish for his aquariums. If they could see his true colours they would not be so sympathetic about the situation he has brought upon himself and wouldn’t do his bidding by branded me a scarlet woman… shouting the most vile vitriol at me when I walked the streets of our small town of Market Rasen.

Toward the end of our time together his berating, belittling and abusiveness grew. I will explain that another day, but when I met Jess I went from a woman so dead inside I swear I was in God’s waiting room to a woman who was shocked back into life by one man’s faith, gentleness, love and endless patience. Without him I’d still be dead-eyed and lifeless. His love kick-started my heart and I knew then I’d found the love I’d waited for all my life for the first time.

Well grab the beverage of your choice, some chocolate cake, popcorn, crisps… Then we’ll begin.

Anyway where did I leave off?… After we had left our small bubble of love and tranquility of the hotel room, we went back to where Jess lives. There I fell in love all over again. I met Tecumseh, or Cumzi to his buddies (Jesse’s dog). Now he was still a little upset from losing his mum (Tracy), so I never pushed the issue, just sat on the floor till he came to me, which he did, within minutes. He’s a beautiful little dog, very affectionate and, of course, how could i resist. I found I was a little nervy to begin with. The first few days I had to adjust to the house that was to be my new home of three months. Jesse took me out for dinner that night at the Red Lobster. We sat holding hands. I looked into Jesse’s dark brown eyes and fell even more in love with every passing moment in his company. I’ve never laughed so much in my lifetime. After the months of going through hell, here I was happy. First time I had heard myself really laugh I didn’t even recognise the sound of my own laughter at first. I’d forgotten about laughter after months of courts, solicitors, locking doors and avoiding my ex. I was with this gorgeous man holding hands, staring into his soft eyes. Could this really be me? Was I in some cruel dream that would be snatched away any minute?

But, no… it was really happening to little old me. We enjoyed days eating out, just being in each others company, getting to know each other. I introduced Jesse to tea drinking. Seemed only fair after he got me hooked on Tim Horton’s coffee. I’m so so in love with Tim Horton’s after thirty years as a stanch tea drinker. LOL One night while he worked in his office, I sat watching Game of Thrones on a TV he has there. He had never seen it or shown any inclination there of. Jess looked up occasionally. We didn’t go out every night and on one occasion he sat and actually watched an episode with me. We cuddled up on the sofa, Cumzi curled up on the back watching us with amusement, wondering why we licked faces so much. ‘Was I that grubby?’

After that one episode Jess was hooked. We sat that night eating our way through a large bag of potato chips (crisps), drinking root beer (something else I discovered and adored just by accident, love that stuff folks). But there we sat the whole night and we binge watched Game of Thrones. Before we knew it morning was upon us. We fell into a pattern of Jess working mornings… I’d sit in the office with him, reading, watching TV or drawing… I’d let sketching go by the wayside until then. Jess gave me a sketchpad of his and pencils. My work’s nowhere as beautiful as the work Jess produces but I enjoyed it.

One night while curled up on the sofa Jess disappeared into his office saying “one minute“. I thought ‘okay‘ and sat back watching the rest of the film. Next thing I know he walked in looking slightly nervous, grin on his face. I thought he’s up to something but let it go. He said “I had wanted to wait till a more romantic setting for this but… “. Imagine my surprise as there he was down on one knee before me, in his hand one tiny little ring box open, light from a lamp reflecting on the stone in the prettiest ring. Everything after that was a blur. I remember saying ‘yes‘. Of course I did. I adored this man kneeling down by my legs. He was the culmination of a lifelong dream. His beautiful face shining up at me, my heart filled with endless love and he held me too him. Folks, things like this I’ve read of in romance books. They didn’t happen to such as I, surely. This person who had never known one day of love in her whole life, not a kind word even. My mind was awhirl and I was so in love, nothing else mattered. He was mine and I was his. That was already the case I felt on my part, but damn this man!… he had broken through every barrier I’d put up for much needed protection. I had been in a marriage for thirty five years and here’s the shock, I hadn’t even loved the man I was with. Jess had knocked down my walls and here I sat, this pain in my chest, a real pain as physical as any, but it was my heart expanding to fill with more love. It scared the hell out of me how much I loved him.

That night I sat curled up against my love looking from time to time at and twisting the ring that had sealed the deal, made our contract, binded our love, totalled up our accounts. Jess looked down on me (he’s taller by the way ) and asked ‘did I like my ring’. I smiled. Oh how I loved that ring. It was but a token of our love but it was my most precious thing next to his heart. It could have been a tap washer for all I cared. (No, Jes,s you can’t take it back and trade it in my love). But here nestled perfectly on my third finger this gift from my wonderful man… my love.

Around this time my love informs me he wants us to have photos taken professionally. OMG!!!!!! I hate hate hate my picture taken, but if he insists I’d follow him anywhere. (Often did. Remind me to tell you of this later) So this was settled. I dreaded it but it made my man happy. Who was I to deny him anything! Also around this time I’d broken a tooth right in half. Now another huge phobia of mine was the dentist. I couldn’t even say the word. I had panic attacks if my friends or family went. I’m serious! It all stemmed from hearing my mum scream out while in the dentist’s chair when I was a very young child. She came out, blood dripping from her mouth. I swore then as a three-year-old child I was never going behind one of those white doors where I heard that horrendous drilling sound and my mum screaming from. And I never did either. I had reached my age suffering badly with toothache for weeks, infections… anything rather than go. But Jess went one day. As I said already, I followed him everywhere. Imagine the amazement as I followed him in. Now before, I’d cross the road rather than go near a dentist. Here I sat in the waiting room on a beautiful sunny day, no fear, just holding his hand and laughing. We could have been anywhere. It held no more fear. I held my man’s hand. I was safe. I was shocked when, like a lamb, I followed him in while he lay comfortably on the dentist chair. He seemed happy, relaxed, so I sat in a chair there answering a million questions about England and our traditions. Other dental nurses came in. It seemed I was most entertaining, this strange tea-drinking fiancee from a far off continent… but through his treatment I was fine. Even the drill evoked no more fear. As we left Jess booked another appointment and while there booked one for me. (Oh my!)

I had gone over there with one small hand case… barely enough clothes to wear in a few days. Jess had bought me some beautiful clothes way before I had gone over, so he told me to bring the bare minimum I’d need. This I did but I had to keep doing laundry as I was running out of underwear (knickers). Jess told me one weekend he was taking me to a shop called Victoria’s Secret. Ooooooookay… I hadn’t a clue. As you know already, I’m not girly in the slightest. So we get to this shop, folks, full of the most delicious collection of lace and silky things. I’m holding his hand thinking ‘have you got the right person here?’ As an assistant approached I got nervous, fidgety. She asked could she help. Jess immediately assessed my agitation, my nerves (we know each other so well by now), and took over. “Yes, my fiancee (God how I love the sound of him saying that) needs panties.” (He avoided saying ‘knickers‘. The way he says it has me in hysterics! Don’t ask. I’m so glad he didn’t say it though, I’d have been in tears.) I was asked my size. It was converted to US sizes and I was shown bins full of drawers, panties, KNICKERS!!!! Apparently that week they were on offer… six for half price… so I bought some and it was love, their shorts are so blooming comfy. We left, Jess holding my hand and my Victoria’s Secret bag. What a man, folks!

To be continued…

I did eventually have the money for my ticket and Jess booked it. He had a PC so it was easier. Our excitement grew the nearer it got. We had several countdowns on Facebook. Our poor friends with our constant posts of how much in love we are, our endless poems… most actually, come to think of it, loved it.

My troubles here grew daily and I walked more to try to counter the turmoil. Jess supported me as best he could… not easy, though, through a screen. I know I longed to be held as each day something else cropped up. The need to feel safe and loved was stronger. My love for Jess grew to the point it actually frightened me. I had no control over my feelings. I’d spend my days with my head in the clouds, just wishing the days away so I could finally get to be with my man. I was still losing weight at this point and was pleased with my figure and new-found confidence. I’d often referred to myself as a heifer, much to Jess’s annoyance. Right up to the week… days before my flight we had our backs up against more and more trouble.

See, as you know, I was in an abusive relationship and my ex upped his hand weekly. I was followed, harassed and, in among all this, I had a court case. There were times I just wanted to give up. I was so tired exhaustion took over. I was locked behind closed doors 24 hrs a day. I, if anyone, was the prisoner. Poor Jess watched me lose my hard won independence all over again. I think this was hard on him. He also hated it when I had to go into town where my ex lived to shop and see my doctor’s, etc. I texted Jess constantly to let him know I was fine, but there were times a bus didn’t run, leaving me stranded there for up to two hours. My phone would lose signal leaving him frantic. Also in this time I had three angina attacks brought on by stress. Imagine being across the world on a small screen watching your loved one in pain and all you can do is sit and watch. Poor guy must have aged over night.

One time was quite amusing though. As I called our paramedics, Jess, as ever on chat with me, as he had by this time got me to finally video chat, he didn’t leave me the whole while the paramedics checked on me. They loved this, asking Jess a dozen questions likes where did he park his horse ? Well, of course, being American he must be a cowboy. Also he must have a gun in his holster. If I hadn’t been in so much pain it would have been hysterical because, of course, his horse was in the garage wasn’t it?, alongside the lawnmower, trimmer, BBQ and drum kit. The horse can play In The Air Tonight wonderfully now. Not really, but he’s had the odd mouse playing bass though.

Long weeks passed. I became more and more isolated, withdrawn. Jess stayed on longer with me when my fears got the better of me. And believe me I had plenty to fear day and night. By the time October came I was just barely putting one foot in front of the other. I packed my bags with some trepidation. I’d never flown. It meant tackling large airports, three planes, border control… Remember, just weeks before, I could barely leave my house alone. This was huge. This was bigger than huge. This was bloody massive! It happened to others didn’t it? Not little quiet folks like me, surely.

As the days ticked off my nerves got worse. I was actually going to see Jess. He had booked us a hotel room for two nights… thought a bit of time alone together was called for. He lives with his brother. My nerves jangled at the thought ‘What if he doesn’t like me?… What if he doesn’t find me attractive?’ A dozen questions fired into my brain daily. The big day arrived. My daughter and her husband had spent the night at my bungalow ready to drive me to the airport in the early hours. I spoke to Jess right up until I lost the signal, it being rural where I live. He still texted but no seeing the face of the man I loved. I missed him deeply.

At the airport I had assistance. These people are great, folks, helping me right onto the plane, then meeting me on the other end. The last flight was delayed and I’d not spoken to Jess in hours. I grew tired and worried. What if he wasn’t there? What if he didn’t meet me? Where would I go for three months? I finally found a way to call him and got a very excited Jess. We chatted a few minutes. I had this long delay at the airport… plenty of time to become excitable, nervous. Finally my flight took off after the storm delay which would setback it’s arrival. I didn’t care… I was seeing the man of my dreams. No turbulence, wind, rain or anything was stopping me getting to his arms. (There’s a laugh there I will fill you in on later.) The flight was indeed bumpy but I still loved every minute. See, I’ve discovered I love flying. Who knew? I reached Jess’s airport at twelve that night. I’d been flying hours. I needed a wash. I looked like hell. A porter turned up to assist me. Now… this bit of our story I’ll leave to Jess, poor guy.

When I did get to my man I hated I didn’t look my best. I couldn’t make eye contact. He had bought a beautiful red rose… stood looking at me. I stood, head down, shyly looking at my feet. We had spent weeks talking about this very thing and I’m blowing it, folks. He tried to kiss me. I pulled away. I’d not been kissed in thirty years. I was so scared I’d get it wrong. He eventually settled on holding my hand. I loved this. It felt good… the most natural thing in the world. As we got in the elevator again Jess approached me for a kiss. Again I pulled away, still so very worried I’d mess it up before hitting our hotel room. We found his car and set off for the hotel. I had a tummy full of butterflies. I hadn’t slept with a man in years. But Jess put his hand on my knee and I felt all my worries drift away. I wanted this guy! My nerves dissipated. I turned and shyly looked at him while he drove. He was the most gorgeous of men I’d ever known. My heart fluttered like a dozen caged birds trying to escape. We got to our room within minutes. I put down my case and he pulled me into his arms and kissed me so tenderly I thought I’d swoon. LOL Well, I did, but not onto the floor. This wasn’t me. I’m a tomboy who has slept with the same man for nearly four decades. Nothing like this happens to woman like me does it? Well, yes it does and thank the gods for it.

I’m not going into detail… I’ll spare you that… but our first night was absolutely perfect. I awoke in his arms once that night to feel him gently brushing back my hair from my face. I loved his soft breaths on my neck. Nothing had prepared me for a night so beautiful, so wonderful. After years of Hell, ladies, I’d finally met heaven. And did we French kiss? You bet your life we did! And it was all and more that I’d dreamed it would be. He was a very able teacher. I fluffed my lessons a lot, needed that little extra coaching. LOL Oh come onnnnn… my darling was there, I was there in his arms. He was kissing the hell outta me and I wasn’t complaining.

To be continued…

Jess and I often talked about what it would be like, you know, to actually be in the same room. Take into account we had only seen each other on our prospective screens until now. Okay, we knew we were attracted to one another. Lord how we were attracted. We had talked of our first meeting over and over countless times… both of us having issues with our looks… neither thought ourselves attractive. Both decided the other would run soon as we saw the other. I got upset one night when Jess said “you know you’re going to take one look at me and march right back on that plane.” This guy really didn’t know me at all did he?

I was so far in love with him I wasn’t ever going to be able to stop. He’s my everything, folks. My first and last thought. I broke into tears at that point, told him my heart had always dictated where he was concerned. It’s true, it always has. Jess said he had a scar down his chest he was worried about. I said I’ve also a scar on my chest, and, yes, it always bothered me someone seeing it. It’s my lumpectomy scar from fifteen years previous. Okay, it’s not noticeable until I undress but, hey, I was going to right? Arghhhhh!!! And there’s another thing I was going to be naked in front of him. Lord have mercy, I mean even my ex of 35 years had never seen me naked. The thought was scary as hell. See, I’d been attacked at 16. Numerous other things had happened along the way. No one and I mean NO ONE saw me naked. But Jess expressed such a wish that I would feel comfortable, confident enough to do this with him. Uh huh. “We’ll see.” But, yes, my scar was an issue for me. I sat upset thinking maybe this would put off this amazing man I loved so deeply and who had been through so very much with me. So I did something, folks, totally out of character…I asked Jess to show me his scar. Then I’d take a picture of mine. In my half-cocked logic I thought ‘get it over before I traveled all that way. Might as well face the heartbreak now.’

Nervously I pulled down my top and bra. Thank God it was a nice lacy one. LOL With shaking hands I took a snap. It’s okay, folks. My scar’s at the top. Nothing crude. All above board. Jess went first, if I remember rightly, and it didn’t look bad at all… not like he said it did. I longed to run my fingers across the ridged scar. I smiled at the screen as we still hadn’t gone live on FB at this point. Then came my turn. I nearly backed out, but that wouldn’t have been fair, so I quickly put on the picture and held my breath. What am I saying? I couldn’t breathe! To Jess I’d done a major disservice as he looked and he must have known I’d be worried he replied straight away “Honey, that’s nothing. In fact I can hardly see anything.” I almost cried with relief, but part of me still doubted when he saw it.

We shared much of the next few weeks. One thing was a bucket list I had. As I say, we held nothing back from each other now. One thing on my list was to learn to French kiss. Jess was amused at first but he knew my background, knew I was indeed serious, I’d never done it. He most kindly offered to teach me. I knew I’d be a more than willing student.

.It was still some time before I had the money to buy my ticket but we both talked of little else. Our friends were equally excited for us, wanting pictures of our first meeting. Like hell! I thought.

To be continued…

So I walked my way into the record books nearly, each day making my way to the local woods, sitting in among the trees, the smell of motorcycle fuel all around me as it was a gathering spot for motorcycle enthusiasts. I’d been a biker in my past life. Yes I was for my sins. Loved it, too. Anyway, here in the woods was my go to place. I’d spend an hour, maybe two, listening to music, taking in the sights, the sounds… cooling off from my walk. I’d buy a cup of tea, take off my shoes and feel the cool grass under my feet. I needed this break before home as I suffer from H.M.S. Noooo… not a ship! Hyper mobility syndrome, the illness that’s not known much about except, as the sufferer, we know all about it, of course. Means my joints are awfully painful. They burn, dislocate, pop out of their sockets… all kinds of amazing things you don’t want me to bore you with. But my joints would be burning so I’d rest and recover for my walk home. Despite the pain this is my time. I loved the feel of being free to walk… just being free actually.

See, as a child I had to answer to a very strict mum, then I was married to a man who thought I should be chained to the kitchen sink or just chained, so moments of freedom before were very rare and fought hard for. After these walks I’d come home, shower, invariably chat to Jess. If he wasn’t about I’d go sit by the local duck pond, write poetry, dream of my man. I spent hours doing this.

At this time I had been told the name of a solicitor. Now, there wasn’t one local so it meant going into the city; an hour long bus ride away. This was fine but I’d not been on a bus in over twenty years. Agoraphobic people can have issues riding public transport. And boy did I have issues! But in my head I knew if I was ever going to get on a plane to see Jess I needed to conquer the dreaded bus phobia at least. If I couldn’t even manage a bus how in the hell would I manage a plane or three.

When that dreaded day arrived I woke up sweating, shaking. I was physically sick while I got ready. I chatted to Jess. He kept me calm. “You’ll be fine” he assured. Mmmmhem. I wasn’t so sure but I went, sat at the bus stop, tried chatting to fellow would-be passengers. Had Jess, my daughter, friends on text constantly. As the bus pulled up waves of anxiety filled me. Here I was, no safe person (a person some of us agoraphobics rely heavily on to be at our sides to keep us safe) but I got on the bus. Sat right up against the side of it, leaning heavily, praying no one would sit near me, especially guys. I was a mass of shaking nerves but as the bus pulled away, I texted everyone. They all cheered me on. Twenty minutes in I found myself relaxing into the beautiful scenery on the way. It really was pretty. I took pictures, showed my group where I was going. They were all brilliant. Jess and Becky were so proud of me, made me feel like I was doing something amazing, not just sitting on a bus.

By the time I’d reached my destination fear was in the past. Now to find my way to the solicitor’s. Lincoln is a big city and I was a lone agoraphobic in it. To start with I got lost… soon as I left the bus terminal. Oh come on… I’d never gone anywhere alone in years. LOL But I approached someone (yes I approached a real human) but this, although nerve wracking, was far preferable to walking around aimlessly in the heat for hours. I really have no sense of direction. No I don’t as Jess would learn down the line but they told me there were two directions. (Oh please don’t give me two ways to get anywhere that’s a disaster in the making.) I chose the gap in between the boards where there was a huge amount of construction going on. And, yes, it lead me to the main high street. WOW!!!!! Shops, lots of shops, hundreds of people. Arghhhhh!!!!! But it was 2:15 pm and I had to be at my solicitor’s at 2:30pm. I hadn’t a clue where that was so once again I stopped where I was, got on my mobile (cell phone to my American friends) and I asked for directions. Okay, no biggy you’re saying, but I’m phone phobic and I was talking to strangers! Oh my!! (Here I am peopling again.) I mean legal secretaries, I’m talking to ladies who don’t know Treez and her oddities. No sense of directions. Please don’t tell me go left, turn right, left again for six blocks, etc. It’s my worst nightmare. But no, I was told go straight on, under the arch, then turn left, walk till you get to the end. I could do that right. (Couldn’t I?) Yes I did.

I found my solicitor. I was dressed like a bag lady as my jeans hung off me. I had a black vest on with my favourite baggy big men’s shirt loose over the top. Best I could do with no clothes I’m afraid. I left all my clothes behind when I escaped my ex. I felt on the back foot from the start. See, not only was my dress code all wrong, but I have learning issues due to the H.M.S. (No, not a ship LOL) Plus my solicitor is a guy. Oh well. I go into the reception, announce myself, sit nervously on my hands while waiting on an authority figure, another problem for me.

In the end I only talk to his secretary, she’s nice enough, and she writes down my story. I’m only there half hour, then back out into the stuffy summer air I’d normally hate but love because I survived another milestone. I walked back along the high street strolling as there’s no rush now… I can take in my surroundings. I’m starving as it’s gone three and I’ve not eaten since the night before. (Nerves will do that to you.) I go into a posh coffee shop and order tea and a scone. Very British. LOL I sit out in the cool shade of the tearoom enjoying watching folks mill about, listening to their chatter. I’m alone, all alone, seeing couples, seeing friends. It dawns on me I really am alone! I’m sat having fancy tea on my own. Okay, I’m texting friends, but here I am at my age, sat for the first time by myself. That was one cathartic moment folks. ( I felt lonely. I felt abandoned. I felt scared, belonging nowhere to no one.) I walked into a few shops, bought myself a salad at Marks and Spencer. (Marks n Sparks to us Brits.) I sat again very alone at the bus station.

I spoke to my friend Donna for a while. I couldn’t reach Jess. I felt small. I felt lost but proud I did this. I had achieved much that day, much I never thought I could. I sat looking back and remembering sitting on a bench in the square of the high street and this guy coming up and sitting down next to me. I didn’t move away in horror as I would have previously. I made myself stay put. He talked about fishing there in the canal many times and did I know that the city of Lincoln was the birth place of many famous people? I listened. I love listening to people. He listed all these stars. I murmured what I thought was an interested-sounding response. One really caught my ear. Did I know that Whitney Houston was born there and found fame? “Erm, no” I reply. “Sure didn’t.” Who knew! He then said his goodbyes and left. I like to think I gave him a much needed platform to air his thoughts. Cost me nothing and he left happy.

Just as I thought that the bus turned up. I enjoyed my long ride home listening to music, still feeling a little lost but do you know what?… I’d done what I thought impossible so it was alright. Also around this time I was applying for my passport… something you need, right? before traveling. I’d never had one before. Had filled in the forms, sent them… eagerly waiting on my shiny new passport, my passport to my man. We started this in March. Keep this date in mind, folks. I hear back they need more information. I send it. April, May, June, July… no passport. We are getting antsy. Our nerves already taught from the thought of finally, yes finally, meeting.July turns to August. No passport. I find out a letter had gone to my old address. Ex had ripped it up or something. I phone. Finally we get a passport. Now everything’s possible. The nerves rattle as I’m about to see my man for our first meeting. I’m going to fly. I’m going to stay in a hotel. never done any of this. What’s more I’m going to hold my man. God I couldn’t wait.

To be continued…