So the untidy divorce stuff is nearly over. I should be able to get the mortgage
sorted in Feb and Mark and I will be completely free of each other. That sounds
harsh, but he doesn’t want to be constantly pulled back while he’s building a new life
and frankly I struggle with forward momentum when I still have this butter knife of
Damacles (well, it’s mostly done so sword would be over stating) hanging over me.
You all know by now the difference my friends and family have made while I have
been going through the divorce/weightloss/figuring my shit out over the last 18
months. Vince and Sav providing zen calm, empathy, distraction and humour, Al
and Muse offering the rallying cry of #tothepain, Vick applying coffee and books
as a universal cureall (it works) and others in their own ways offering support,
understanding, shared experience and showing there is more to life than moping. My
family have been amazing, the whole thing has brought me and mum much closer
and I lucked out with an excellent hypnotherapist. I’m also very fortunate in my team
at work, who have been brilliant throughout.
On a day to day basis though I found support and relief in a most unexpected place.
Kickboxing. Now that we’ve moved to EFK the sense of family I get from the gang
is even more obvious, our little sweat box of a training room is home. Recently the
people I’ve met there have started to bleed into my other life, they are creeping onto
my facebook, texting me, generally breaking out of their weekday evening slot and
into the world at large. I like that.
During the worst of it, hell even now from time to time, I have lived class to class.
Just gotta get through to the evening, then there will be sweat and pain and stuff to
hit and it’ll all be ok. When my head is spinning and I am half sure I’m going to throw
up I feel happy, peaceful, right with the world. There are weeks when it’s the only
time I feel ok, even now.
I’m quite possibly addicted to the endorphins and it’s a much bigger hit than the gym
can offer. I get low after a couple of days with no class and most interestingly, when I
get the urge to sell up and head out to start over, new home, new job, different area,
(it happens a lot at the moment, part of me wishes I was the one who just packed up
their belongings and moved on, friends after all can be driven to and many of mine
are not round here anyway) the thing that ties me here is always EFK. Some things
are harder to find than others and a club that really suits me might be a one off.
I have strange angels and they are exactly what I need.