Day 15 of homelessness......who to trust?

'The best way to find out if you can trust somebody, is to trust them'     Ernest Hemingway

Hmmm...... that's all very well, Ernest, but what I've learned recently, is that trusting someone can be very costly indeed. Of course, there is no one else to blame but me. I trusted TT and if I'm completely honest with myself, it was against my own better judgement. My gut was telling me that something was wrong - and I, foolishly, chose to ignore it. Shortly after we moved in together, there was an incident which rang an alarm bell which I should have heeded. If only I had, things might be very different today.

I also realise now that I must have been the only person trusting him.  The number of people who knew both of us and have subsequently approached me and said 'Well, I never did trust him', have shocked me by their sheer numbers. It actually seems there wasn't one person of our mutual acquaintance who didn't have a little voice inside them screaming, 'beware, he's definitely dodgy!'  If only someone had said something to me - though I understand how impossible that would have been. How do you say to someone 'By the way, your partner is not to be trusted'.

Ernest, though, remains correct. Situations occur every day where we have to place our trust in another human being and sometimes we will rewarded with kindness and respect and at other times we will get a resounding kick in the teeth.

Just in the last couple of weeks I've had another experience of misplaced trust - and teeth were definitely involved!

One of the things to suffer during my time with TT has been visits to the dentist. He regarded it as a luxury - and one which we definitely could not afford. Accordingly, the health my teeth have taken a downward spiral and I will be lucky to escape dentures in the near future.
The fear of that particular situation sent me scuttling off to the nearest practice as soon as TT was out of the door. I'm lucky in that I've never had any fear of the dentist - have always been treated with care and have never experienced any pain. All that changed on my second visit to the new dentist. I had been informed I needed a new crown and a filling and she started with the new crown prep. My god! If she had been in my mouth stamping around in hobnail boots it couldn't have been any more painful. For 5 days afterwards I was in agony and could barely open my mouth. When I returned 2 weeks later, I was understandably a little anxious, but being the trusting idiot that I am, I thought it must have been a one off - this time will be better, won't it? Nope, the 3rd visit was even worse! She climbed into my mouth once more and this time drilled until the nerve was screaming, despite the numbing injections. By the time she had finished, I wanted to die.

Now, exactly 2 weeks later, the swelling and bruising to my face has only just disappeared over the weekend. Suffice to stay, I won't be returning to see her. I have however, made a complaint; something I have never contemplated with any other dentist. The morale of this story: Yes, give someone your trust willingly. But, for me, one chance is all they get from now on!

Day 10 of homelessness.........

.......to my new and temporary home. Here I am in Plymouth. The city has certainly welcomed me; there has been cloudless skies and brilliant sunshine from the moment I arrived. The people too seem nice so far and I think my time here will be ok - fingers crossed.

I'm staying in the doctor's residences of the main hospital - a 10 minute drive from where I'm working and for me, its a bit like stepping back in time. My ex- husband of long ago was a junior doctor when I met him and we spent many long hours in his flat at the hospital. It was very similar to this place apart from in his flat there was a separate bedroom, whereas here the bed is kept in a cupboard in the wall.

 I seemed to spend most of my time in that flat completely alone too! He would be, inevitably, on call and out on the wards and I would be waiting patiently (bored) for his return. I would do whatever I could to make his on call time a little more pleasant. I worshipped him then and he knew it; he allowed me to wait on him hand and foot and made it seem he was doing me a favour. At the time I didn't blame him. Being on call and knackered most of the time is hell on earth. Who in their right mind would refuse the attentions of a willing slave in those circumstances? Besides, it made me feel important in a way I had never felt previously. He needed me to make it better - isn't that every nurses raison d'être?

I was reminded too of something weird which happened 5 or 6 years after our divorce. I had the opportunity to return to the hospital where we had met and where I trained, to spend a day with a specialist nurse. It had been 20 years since I had been there and the whole experience felt a little surreal.  After following the nurse around all day she announced we had to go to a meeting. Off we went, through the hospital, out into the car park and across to where the nurses and doctor's residences used to be. As we walked I told her about living there and meeting my ex. She told me that 90% of the flats were now the admin offices of the hospital. When we arrived at the block where my ex had lived it felt so strange and when we arrived outside the very door of the flat I almost burst out laughing! Unbelievably, I found myself in a packed meeting in the very bedroom I had spent many a happy hour, in my ex's cramped single bed. Happy days.

Day 8 of homelessness........Onwards to Plymouth

I arrived in Plymouth a little while ago and feel comfy and safe in my guest-house room. It was a long old drive from Kent but the sun was shining all they way and with each mile my spirits lifted; a new adventure and hopefully a little money and security for a while.

The only blip came when driving past the exit I would normally take for Glastonbury. Each sign post brought back so many memories - of other drives home from my daughter's house, to be greeted with a steaming sunday dinner or a small puppy, wagging an excited, scruffy tail. All gone now.

My mind was taken right back to the beginning - of meeting my ex and the move to Somerset and the subsequent problems, revelations and heartbreak. I have been asked several times by readers of this blog, to share those experiences. To share how I came to be penniless and homeless. I'm not sure - friends have warned about the dangers of airing one's dirty linen in public and the repercussions that may come. What do people think? It is my itention to write a novel about my experiences - it's the only way I can legitimately kill TT (rather than calling him the twat, I've shortened it) and get away with it!

Day 6 of homelessness - Panic attacks.....

........how do you avoid them?

Today I feel that panic could engulf me entirely if I let my guard down for a moment. I have 2 nights left here at my daughters - and then it's onwards into the unknown.

I have the promise of a few weeks work in a hospital in Plymouth - a 6 hour drive away from here, which happens to come with accommodation. After that who knows.

Panic has inspired long periods of introspection today - trying to identify what it really is I'm afraid of.  I now think I know how it must feel when your house is blown away by a tornado or burns to the ground - Ok, perhaps these are extreme examples, but even so, I believe this feeling of rootlessness and loss, is universal.

So many times over the past few days I have caught myself thinking 'I must do this or that, or find something........when I get home', Each time I catch my breath and a wave of fear passes over me. There is no home. There is no place to return to. There is no longer any place where I might feel safe. There is no place where I can slump on the sofa, throw my slippers off and be myself. And worse there is no little dog to talk to and make everything feel almost bearable.

If only I had written this blog yesterday! Yesterday the sun was shining and I was watching my grandchildren play happily in the park. Yesterday I felt positive and almost happy; anything was possible and everything was going to be alright.

Today is different....I thought it was Thursday. I thought I had three more nights here and that seemed just enough to make another adjustment to my emotional compass. Three more nights would have done it. I would have been ready. When I discovered it was Friday - which wasn't actually until half an hour ago - a black hollowness appeared in the pit of my stomach. Two more nights and I will have to venture out and face the world again. Two more nights and the business of 'getting on with it' would really begin.....every time I think of this the panic rises.

I've cried a lot tonight. Grieving for everything I've lost: my home, my savings, my good reputation, my perfect credit score, my dog, my security, the life where I was an professional, independent woman. I've been reduced to this by someone I trusted without question.

What's left is a dogged determination to retain my sanity and sense of humour - and though the latter is making only brief appearances at present, I'm hopeful that will change soon.

Day 4 of homelessness....Life was a bitch.........

..........specifically a small, furry bitch name of Ruby. She's the loveliest, friendliest dog ever and I'm going to miss her more than I can say.

I got her 18 months ago as a tiny puppy and looked more teddy bear, crossed with a tiger. Her face was completely black and quite flat and her ears bent forward making her look too adorable and her back was covered in broad, dark stripes.

Ruby saved my life over the past year; she gave me something to care for and a reason to get up in the mornings and get out of the house. She gave me a reason to carry on because she needed me to hold it together.  loved those walks with her and they provided the inspiration for the children's book I hope to finish, sometime soon.

Yesterday morning I had to watch her being driven away - possibly never to be seen again. I'm eternally grateful to Joe for taking her and I know she will be well cared for.......but I miss her.
Of course, she was never really my dog anyway. By which I mean she attached herself to my ex (to be known from now as 'the twat' If anyone finds this offensive and can come up with something which indicates the same level of vitriol, then do suggest it!) The twat was sent to pick her up from the breeders - a devious ploy by me to get them to bond, which backfired big style. By the time they got home, a trip which took 3 hours, man and dog had bonded forever. I always knew I was second best and it broke my heart to watch her scurrying around his feet, only to be ignored because he had long since lost interest - the twat! Actually scratch the man and dog bonding - the dog bonded and the man did what he always did - he pretended whilst it suited him to do so.

I knew it would be fine with Joe from the moment he arrived - he was a man and therefore vastly superior to any one of us women! Ruby began following him around and watching him carefully. She happily jumped into his car and went for walks and even tolerated (a little) his own tiny pooch Buffy - whom I could have happily kept. By the end of the first day Ruby had forgotten my existence and wouldn't even come when I called her. She would look to Joe for reassurance instead and then turn her back on me.

This must be the low point? Surely now I can put everything behind me and move on?

Day 2 of homelessness

Homelessness is not a state I would recommend to anyone. For the first time in my life I literally have no roof to call my own. I must admit it's by far the scariest thing that has ever happened to me - and there have been one or  two scary moments of note along the way.
It's day 2 and the reality has not yet sunk in. I feel in that dream-like state often induced by shock or trauma. Nothing feels real and I know that's because I'm holding all my pent-up feelings inside, in an effort not to be overwhelmed by them. No doubt at some point I will collapse into a snot-filled puddle on the floor and cry until I can cry no more. I just hope I'm alone when it finally happens.
Do I sound self-pitying? I hope not, because the aim here isn't to bleat about the past and constantly wail 'woe is me'. I want this to be a happy blog, full of observations on my life. A witty look at how the hell I ended up in this deep pit and how the hell I'm going to climb out again!
I hope also that I'm going to get lots of feedback, interaction and comments. Please talk to me - I promise faithfully that I'll respond.
Eventually, I'll also introduce you to my books: the one I'm almost finished and the next one which is sitting quietly in the background, patiently waiting to take its turn occupying my head space.
Time now to phone the debt counsellor - I've been putting it off - the thought of baring my financial soul to a complete stranger is not one I have been relishing.......I'll let you know how it goes