When you get it so wrong.

Finally, after 8 months of being dragged from pillar to post my surgery has been approved. 21 April is the day surgery takes place, the relief is wonderful.

Feeling relieved I thought, right I’ll have a quick look at the news online and then attack a stack of papers that I had been artfully colour coding and writing little messages on to remind me what needed to be done. I open the website and there is my friend. A great big picture of him. What on earth is he doing on the news. I read the article and my head spins, my face must have drained of all colour as Bell who was waiting to speak to me, took a step back. I knew I was going to throw up and with every ounce of strength I raced to the ladies room.  My dearest friend, who I just happened to work with came racing in after me. She made soothing noises and lay cool wet paper towels on the back of my neck and wiped my face and tears. In shock, I blurted out that my friend had murdered his parnter. He put an axe through her head. We had heard about it over the weekend, it had been on the news and had lots of coverage but they had not given any names, just a suburb in Canberra. I clearly remember saying to my husband, oh god, I bet it was domestic violence, and it was.

I thought I knew who he had killed and went into protection mode, defending my friend. You see he had gotten involved with a vile toxic woman about two years ago. We spent many Friday nights gently and not so gently telling him she was bad news. She told him she was pregnant, it was his, it wasn’t his, she was having it she wasn’t. She played mind games. She trashed his car, he had to sell it in the end as she kept slashing the tyres and smashing all the windows. He had to take out an AVO against her. It was a horrid relationship and she sucked him dry, she stole from him and lied to him and she used ICE. He rented the granny flat at my best friends house. We spent a lot of time together, drinking, laughing,cooking and solving the worlds problems, he was a great guy and I liked him.  I defended his actions to several friends. I kept hearing that this woman who had been murdered so tragically was an angel, a loving mother, daughter and work colleague. And I kept thinking to myself, how the hell can they get it so wrong and I cried at the thought of what my friend must be going through.

Then two days later I found out that it wasn’t the toxic one he murdered. It was another woman, a beautiful woman and her name was Tara. She had two boys 11 and 9 and had just given birth to my friends daughter, she was four days old when her father ripped away her mother.  You see, last contact with him was around November and he was with the toxic one. And so I thought it was her.  But no he had met a wonderful woman, a caring gorgeous girl who had a baby with him because he so wanted a child and a family to love. But the toxic one came back into his life and he let her in. He was given an ultimatum and he chose the bitch and ICE. As it all hit home I felt sick again, and horrified at the ugly thoughts I had had about the woman who he had brutally murdered. I immediately contacted the people I had defended him to and set the record straight but still there is this lingering guilt. I feel that I have defamed her, I thought I knew but I didn’t.

His family, Tara’s family are shattered. We don’t know what happened on that horrid Saturday afternoon just over a week ago. We only know that three children now have no mother. That she was murdered by a man who I once knew.

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Am I On A Path To Self Destructiin?

Not 12 months ago I looked OK. Happy enough in a bathing suit, one piece of course. I always felt I looked good as I sashayed out the door, whether it was to work, or for dinner or even to look after my grand babies. But, during the last 6-8 months all I do is eat. I eat all the time. And I eat badly. The worst possible foods imaginable. Bread, lots of bread, slathered in butter, chocolates, biscuits, cheese, cake, nuts and fruit. It all gets shoved into my mouth. Every night I say to myself as I get out of the shower and look in the mirror in absolute horror, tomorrow you stop this. You are disgusting, you just stop and yet I do not. I have even taken food from the fridge at work. What the hell is wrong with me. Nothing to horrid, just a piece of bread to slather more butter on when I have run out and I do go find the person and tell them what I have done and offer to replace it but seriously, I’ve already eaten it what on earth are they going to do or say.

Most of the time I am not even hungry when I eat and I  don’t even enjoy it, so why do I keep doing it, Is it a path to self destruction, do I really loathe who I am so much that I keep doing it. I see my reflection in shop windows and it upsets me so much but nothing changes, I keep on eating. My clothes do not fit me any more and I am reduced to wearing elastic waisted pants and over sized shirts as all my lovely clothes no longer fit. I feel disgusting and I look fat.

For gods sake wake up and stop.