been doing a lot of thinking...

BEEN DOING A LOT OF THINKING...

And that's not always such a good thing.

I have a tendency to over-analyse and work myself around in circles only to end up back at the same place I started.

There's been a lot of stuff on my mind - prompted mainly by recent events.

I need to deal with it before the circles get carried away and I end up dizzy.

I've been thinking about my relationship with DH - the way he treats me, the way I sometimes treat him. Thinking about what I have tried to do in the past to patch things up and carry on, thinking about how they haven't worked. Realising that I am beyond the point of wanting things to work - not just because of ~S~. If she walked out of my life tomorrow it wouldn't change my marriage.

I've been thinking about things that friends - real everyday friends - have said to me recently. Things they have pointed out that I chose not to see. Three separate friends, very close ones, have all told me that he is abusing me. I still find that hard to admit to and hard to swallow because I have no bruises, no marks. I find it hard to swallow because it's hard to face the fact that I am neither as strong nor as independant as I thought I was.

At the end of 2004, I started to plan a trip. For DH and I. I could see that things were bad between us and in an effort to make things better I thought a little time for just the two of us would help. So I booked flights to one of the most beautiful cities in Europe. Booked a 4 star hotel in the midst of the city. I called his employers and booked him some time of work. I arranged for the children to be taken care of. I bought him new clothes to take. It should have been a dream trip.

I told him about the trip on Christmas Day 2004. I don't quite know what I expected - maybe a little more enthusiasm, a little more recognition of the effort I had gone to. I'd have been leaping from the rooftops if someone had done that for me, I'd have exploded with excitement. But he thought it was 'very nice'.

It's almost a year ago to the day since that trip. We had an okay time. Not the wonderful time we should have had in that city, but it was okay. I knew back then, in my heart, that he wasn't the person I wanted to be sharing this city with. Our differences became glaringly apparant.

I wanted to wander the side streets, explore the tiny shops and stalls, buy unnecessary yet beautiful things just because, eat inappropriate food at inappropriate times just for the experience. We stumbled across an incredible cafe, purely by chance. It sang to my heart and if I ever go back to that incredible city then I have to go back there. It was tucked away, down a tiny alleyway and then down another alleyway. It was hidden behind a dark door. It was like another world. It was bursting with the reality of that city. I could have spent all day there, just sitting, absorbing, living. But he didn't get it and we left after one drink. He hovered impatiently outside shops while I browsed uncomfortably alone inside. I wanted someone with me that would share my finds, share my treasures, even if they didn't think they were treasures. Instead I was alone, while he tapped his feet and looked at his watch. The last morning we spent at the football stadium - that was something that meant a lot to him. I tried to share his enthusiasm for that but inside I felt cheated that he hadn't shared mine.

On the flight back, I knew that nothing I said or did would ever be good enough. I knew that things would be just the same as ever the next day, and the day after that, and the one after that.

In March of 2005, the eldest of our children had a very important week. It was time for an event that was the culmination of a years hard work. It meant that I would be away with the children for 5 days. One event took place on the Wednesday, but there was another, more significant event on the Friday. I'd asked him to take the day off work and come to the Friday event. He came over to our hotel on the Thursday night.

On the Friday, I was preoccupied. There was a lot to be done to get this child ready for the event and I was needed pretty much all of the day. It was a long day too - busy, hot, stressful. I didn't have time to pay much attention to him, my hands were full making sure that the eldest child was ready and where they needed to be. And with making sure that the youngest was safe and occupied and out of trouble. He sulked at the lack of attention. That's not an unfair statement to make. His mother was there - she supports her grandchildren in everything that they do and even she saw that he was sulking. The most important part of the day was due to commence at 1.30pm. I'd been getting the child ready since 11am. Suddenly, at 1.15pm I turn around and he has gone. Disappeared. I had no idea where he was, but I was anxious that he was going to miss everything. I tried to call him on his mobile, but no answer. I text message him and got a reply that was filled with f-words. He sauntered up at 1.25pm.

After that, he didn't speak to me for the rest of the day. We were there until quite late and he refused both lunch and dinner. I know for a fact that going without food makes him worse than a bear with a sore head and he was already more than bear-like. But he refused to eat point blank.

Just before things wrapped up for the day, we were approached by the parents of a 16 year old who had been involved in this since she was our childs' age. It was her last event - because of her age - and she was having a 'wrap-up' party that night at her hotel. She invited us all to go along. Of course, the eldest child desperately wanted to go and it was quite a thing for her to be asked so we went. He didn't want to be there, and he made that more than apparant. He was rude and ill-mannered and refused to even get the children a drink from the bar. There was a disco and the eldest child was up dancing with new friends when he suddenly announced to me that he was going back to the hotel, got up and walked away. Leaving me with the children on the wrong side of a busy and strange city, at night, and with no money.

I ran after him and begged him to stop and wait but he refused. The youngest child has a habit of removing shoes and true to style was shoeless at this point. I'm grabbing the children and running down the street after him, trying to carry bags and belongings while simultaneously attempting to get shoes on the youngest one. The eldest one is crying. I'm trying not to cry. He's about 200 yards ahead of us and I'm scared, walking past groups of drunks spilling out of pubs and leering at us. Not once did he look back.

We made it back to the hotel safely. I got the children in to bed. He didn't utter one word to me. Not one. I went to bed before him, confused and upset and alone. He slept on the floor of the hotel room.

The following morning, nothing was said. I was too scared to mention what had happened and he pretended nothing had happened. It has never been spoken of since.

There had been some friends with us that night - they are good friends that I see often and I am very close to the woman - C. They had said nothing while events were unfolding, I think they were probably embarrassed. But when I saw C in the hotel corridor she just put her arms around me and held me and I sobbed.

Damn, if you got this far you deserve a medal. I didn't mean for all this to come spilling out but it has. Heigh-ho.

I wish I could say that was all, but it's the tip of a very big iceberg and I don't much fancy a Titanic moment right now.

And I need to stop because right now this has just become a bit too much.