Is this the status quo?

Is the world getting worse, better, or is this just the status quo?

The last couple of years have felt like everything has become pretty crazy and I for one can’t remember a time prior to this where there was anything like this.

Climate change seems to be an undeniable reality now with super storms, hottest and coldest days on record and small pacific island atolls having to be evacuated due to rising sea waters.

Politically the world has definitely gone mad – at least within the more powerful countries.

I don’t want to mention Trump but obviously if we are going to talk about the current political nightmare he is definitely at the apex. Vladimir, Theresa and Kim are no treats themselves.

Italy is about to go to the polls and with the alt-right gaining traction there it can be hard not to think that the world has completely lost it’s mind.

The divide between the left and the right has never felt wider to me and I can’t understand why so many are pushing for such extreme conservatism.

 

One day while discussing my opinion that the world was going to shit with my mum, she surprised me when rather than agree with me she stated that it all felt very familiar and that it was feeling very much like business as usual.

For her she  remembered when the US went to war in Viet Nam, she was remembering the end of the Cold War and the Cuban Missile Crisis when the world held it’s collective breath as the threat of nuclear war seemed inevitable.

For her a bunch of powerful but inept (mostly) men threatening each other with their toys and making terrible and avaricious decisions negatively affecting millions was nothing new.

Status quo
So what then does that mean for us as species? Are we always going to just repeat our stupid mistakes and bloody battles until we finally go too far?

Or is this the final stand of the old guard and the last push from the alt-right, patriarchal, capitalist machine before newer and more egalitarian leadership begins to emerge?

I hope so.

There do exist little pockets of hope though; New Zealand has a new female prime minister who is shaking things up for the best, Iceland’s new prime minister is intent on closing the gender pay gap completely and Angela Merkel continues fighting the good fight.

While Trump truly is one of the most appalling people to ever lead his country, his extreme ineptitude and overall repugnance has forced the positive reaction of many people who are no longer staying complicit while damaging decisions are made for them.

 

The convergence of women for the Women’s Marches globally, the #metoo movement and now the mustering of young people in the states to fight for tighter gun control after the latest school massacre are all positive reactions to an otherwise bleak time.

So perhaps all is not lost…yet.

 

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What’s the problem with Single?

Being single is more fun when you are not alone. When you have no-one to share being alone with, in a world that expects you to be coupled up, it can be a lonely place. It was Valentines day this week, a day I take very little notice of usually. This time though there seemed to be a lot more people carrying bunches of flowers on the their ways home to their loved ones and I felt a slight pang of longing.

I spent my commute home reading the best of social posts about what other singletons were doing. An act that brought me great hilarity and helped me to feel far less solitary.

What a joy it was to realise that there are so many people out there enduring the same isolation as me.

Such gems as –

“Dr: What are you using for birth control
Me: Just who I am as a person”

or

Can’t wait for Valentines Day. I’m gonna run into as many restaurants as I can shouting “Knew I’d find you here! You bastard” then run out..

or

Someone asked me if i’m scared that i’ll be alone forever, which was rude as my dog was right there.

or

I’m tired of being the only 1 who cleans, pays the bills, cooks every day and does the dishes in this house. I am the back bone of this family
I live alone, but still

It’s a weird thing this pressure to be coupled up. There seems to be an unspoken idea that if you are single for too long there must be something wrong with you.

So great is the pressure to be coupled up that many will stay in unhealthy, unhappy relationships just to avoid being tarred with the ‘single’ brush.

When you reach your thirties the pressure to find a person to hitch your wagon to increases ten-fold. For women this is heightened even further by the pressure to have babies before your eggs expire.

I read an article recently that said women in their mid forties were at a higher risk of becoming homeless or be in extreme financial distress if they were single. Reading this obviously put the fear of god in me for a bit and provided yet another worry for my anxiety to obsess over. But how true are stories like this really?

Are they just another means to scare women into settling with someone, no matter how wrong that person maybe?

With all of these forces pressing down on you it can be hard not to just grab the next single person you find and beg them to marry you.
People will tell you that you will find someone when you least expect it, that you just need to enjoy singledom and relax.

These people will usually be coupled up, well-intentioned, but ultimately annoying friends who mean well but haven’t been single since the changing of the last decade so can’t really remember what it is like.

What I find the hardest part off this whole thing is that I am not even sure what I really want.

Do I want kids…maybe?

Do I want to be married? Probably.

But only if it is with someone I really like who also thinks I am pretty great too.

The thing is life sans partner is pretty great too.

I can do what I want when I want. I get oodles of me time. I can star-fish in my bed

Every. Single. Night.
I can be as weird, gross and farty as possible without fear of embarrassment.

I support myself financially, socially, and mentally and do so reasonably well.

So why then do I care that I am a me not a we?

I guess because being a ‘we’ can be pretty great too.

It would be nice to have a someone.

A person to travel with, watch Netflix with, share joys and sadness with and ultimately someone to create a family with.

Whether this is a family of just us two, a family with a brood of children or perhaps just a pack of dogs-  having a person do have these things with would be kind of nice.

 

 

 

 

Riding the wave

The last couple of years have felt like a complete shit-show politically. All around the world the ‘Right’ and in some cases the alt-right/white supremacy groups have been gaining ground and the end has felt very nigh.

However it seems like the light may be finally starting to break through . Perhaps even more surprisingly it is becoming a very exciting time to be a feminist as the next wave of feminism seems to be blowing through and I for one am all for it.

Grotesque mouth breathers like Trump and Weinstein have been integral in holding mirrors up to our world to show us just how much misogyny threads through our society.

So obvious have they made it that there is no choice left but to fight.

No longer can we be gas-lit and told that there is no need for feminism because woman have equal rights, sexual harassment is policed fairly, the gender pay gap is only there because women don’t ask for pay rises, and the glass ceiling exists because women don’t try hard enough.

Instead what is happening is the collective cry of women everywhere is going up and calling bullshit on these ridiculous claims.

Grammys director Neil Portnow recently learned this the hard way when he tried to ‘explain’ reason why so few women were nominated for Grammys.

He claimed that the reason was not because of a sexist old boys club that valued men’s work over women’s but actually because women needed to “step up” more.

Unsurprisingly, his crappy ‘mansplanation’ was met with a wall of rage and indignation. He was soon thereafter forced to give an apology which while probably not sincere was satisfying to see him forced to put his tail between the legs none the less.

In more dramatic developments Larry Nassar the former USA Gymnastics team doctor and sexual abuser extraordinaire, was sentenced to 175 years in jail for the abusing over 150 women and girls.

Although already sentenced to literal life in prison he will again stand trial as more cases have now come to light against him. I for one have never seen a sexual abuser sentenced so fairly. Now the focus has moved to the network of people who protected this monster and allowed him to continue his abuse for so long and to so many. Protests have erupted at the Michigan State University around the administration that protected him.

It was only a few months ago that privileged rapist Brock Turner was sentenced to a measly 6 months in prison (of which he served 3) for raping an unconscious girl.

The pathetic excuse for a judge decided that because Brock was rich, white and really good at swimming you guys, that there was no reason for his life to be destroyed for a “silly mistake”. While this was awful and infuriating it was not unique.

Long have women’s voices been silenced and their abuse been accepted in order not to ruin their abusers lives. But now finally the tides seem to be turning.

While Weinstein has been accused by equal numbers of women as Nassar he still sadly have not been charged, however the #MeToo movement is snowballing and for these entitled leeches time is most definitely running out and the witches are coming for them.

It is really satisfying to see über creeps like Woody Allen begin to quake in their boots.

Women are learning that while one woman may be forced into silence, they cannot silence the collective.

We make up fifty percent of the human population and when we band together we are a force to be reckoned with and I can’t wait to see where this ends up.

Searching for an anchor

What makes somewhere a home and what anchors a person to a place?

For some people the thought of leaving the place of their birth and the place they grew up is unthinkable. For some, circumstances out of their control force them out of their home, town or country. For others they cannot wait until they are old enough to get the hell out of dodge.

This latter category was me.

There was nothing particularly bad about my home town, it was just quiet, a bit on the conservative side and was small (although at the time I thought of it as a reasonably big city).
I packed my bags and did what so many of my country people do, I crossed the seas to Australia.

Years later I made an even bigger move to the UK and then when my visa inevitably ran out I returned to my second..third? adopted home of Melbourne and here I am today.

I have lived in many houses, in many suburbs and multiple cities and yet not one of them ever really felt like home.

Christchurch definitely never felt like home, London I loved wholeheartedly but it never felt like my forever place and Melbourne despite it being so livable and alive also does not feel completely like home.
So what then makes something feel like home? Is it having family there? Is it having a partner there, or is it owning property that gives you roots?

Perhaps it is all of the above…

Are some people just naturally gypsies? Perhaps some genetic memory lying deep inside our veins spurs us on to follow the footsteps of our nomadic ancestors. Or is it just a restless nature that blocks us from never truly feeling satisfied?

Do we need to be married with babies  – fur or human – to truly feel settled? Is this what settled actually means, once you have fulfilled the adult requirements of marriage, children and house ownership you will finally feel anchored down?

I realise too, that these musings show my privilege. For many the option of whether to stay or go is not available. I also realise that I am lucky to have lived in any of these places. The fact that I am blessed enough to live in safe cities free from war and other extreme dangers is something I should be grateful for.

So perhaps a place feeling like home is just matter of perspective. Perhaps it is less about the physical things tying us to a place and more about how we choose to perceive it?

 

Christmas Leftovers

Christmas is a weird time. What is sold to us as the festive, merry season often causes us more stress and trouble than any other time of year. The mad rush to buy presents for loved ones who don’t need them, the over-catering of food to ensure everyone is sufficiently gorged and the uncomfortable conversations that are forced upon us by those we share DNA with can all add up to it being a very un-jolly time.

One common theme that has come up in my conversations this year is that dreaded question that plagues singletons everywhere “Have you met anyone yet?”.

For me when this question is aimed in my direction I can’t hide the shuddering cringe that runs through my body.

Because the answer is No.

No, I am not seeing anyone.

No, I am not dating anyone and No, I do not have a boyfriend.

In an instant any of my other achievements for the year turn to dust because horror of horrors I have still not validated my existence by catching and keeping a man.

I am independent, I am a feminist and I do not think that a woman’s primary goal in life is to find a husband, and yet when I am asked these questions there is a large part of me that can feel ashamed.

When you are surrounded by people who are all coupled up including much younger ones, it is hard not to think, what is wrong with me? This very question is one I was quite literally asked recently, after advising this person that I was still single this inquiry slipped out and although she quickly attempted to cover her Freudian slip with “Whats wrong with them?”  her true thoughts were out and it stung.

In China there is a term for women who are still single after 27 – Sheng Nu. It loosely translates to ‘Leftover women’, as if women were  a commodity to be sold and bought and those not married were the left over stock that nobody wants and will probably have to be sold at a discount. To be fair there is also a term for the men – Shengnan – which means ‘bare branch’, the idea being that the man will not be adding any branches to the family tree. At least in that way there is a little bit of equality even if it is derisive.

It’s a weird thing when you reach your thirties and suddenly it seems like everyone is coupled up and beginning the settling down plans. When you are not one of the halves of these couples and instead are watching everyone else planning out there lives together it can feel like you are in fact one of the ‘leftovers’.

You start to question whether you missed the memo which mentioned the deadline stating that anyone not with a partner by a certain age will just have to go without.

Maybe you were too focused on other things like career and travel to notice and now the boat has left and you are at the dock watching the relationship boat sail away. Except that everyone else were doing the exact same things and still managed to bag a person so maybe that’s not it either.

Whatever the reason and the metaphor it can be a very lonely place to be.

The thing about anxiety is…

Anxiety is a weird beast, it alters your perception of reality creating monsters where there are none and turns you into a quivering terrified mess at the drop of a hat.

You can be feeling like a reasonably functional human and suddenly you have completely lost the ability to move while millions of tiny spiders are crawling over your skin, the air in your lungs is squeezed out and all of the muscles in your chest contract into one painful tight knot. Or maybe that’s just me. Whatever the case it can be debilitating.

Trying to decipher what is real and what is the voice of the anxiety monster is an ongoing and exhausting job. It can be so tiring not knowing what is real and what is just an illusion created by the mind. Do my work mates actually hate me or is this just the chemicals in my head? Am I really an awful person or is the A-beast at work again? Am I completely alone in this world or are there still people who care?

The negative dialogue continues to gnaw.

When it is at its worst it’s like you feel incredibly angry and everything and anything could make you snap. It can make you paranoid believing the worst is always about to happen – you are going to get fired from work, your friends don’t really like you or you will never succeed in life.

It’s exhausting.
Anxiety image
You could lie down all day and never be rested because the fearful mouse in your mind keeps running on that wheel. It strips you of your ability to sleep, to relax and sadly to enjoy what could be lovely moments in life because the toxic fearful storm is raging.

One of the best things I have learned to manage anxiety is exercise. Not mild gentle exercise normally, but intense runs or high intensity cardio of some sort. It feels like the anxiety is being flushed out of you one sweat droplet at a time. Afterwards you get to feel that blissful normality that people who don’t injure this disease must get to feel most of the time.

I recently sprained my ankle so my usual tactic of running off my crazy has not been an option. I have other tools at my disposal playing guitar, yoga, meditation, and of course writing, but nothing is quite so immediate or as effective as a run around the park.Anxiety pic 1

Anxiety is a strange and irritating thing, at it’s best it is the mildly annoying negative voice in your head and at it’s worst it is a debilitating paralysis that crushes down on you like a giant vice causing you to search for any way out no matter how extreme or permanent.

Why does it happen to us? Is it the remnants of some primal fight-or-flight mechanism or is it some unknown or under evolved element of our existence that we don’t yet understand? Whatever the reason, it is a tough road.

In our society it is one of the most common forms of mental illness. In a world that moves so fast and expects so much time from its people, the room for peace and calm is quickly disappearing. We are becoming sedentary in our bodies and chaotic in our minds, never fully able to turn off from the world. Perhaps it is just a symptom of our disconnected times.

 

 

 

 

 

No Lena, No

Lena Dunham has said many things that have upset and offended people throughout her career thus far. Each time she has done so I have either thought people have been mis-interpreting what she meant, overreacting entirely, or I have just put it down to the fact that she was young and like all of us does not have all the answers.

However she has finally done something that I can not justify. Nor will I even attempt too.

As one of the current feminist voices of our times or at least as “a voice of a generation” as she said in her show Girls, she has a far-reaching and very powerful cry. Which normally she uses for good.

I admire Lena, I think she is a prodigious writer, and it has been so refreshing to have someone so brave and unapologetic using her talents to defend those without a platform to do so themselves.

So it was incredibly disappointing when after a brave young woman came forward telling the police that she had been raped at 17 by one of the Girls writers – Lena jumped onto her social media dais and announced that this woman is part of the 3% of women who lie about rape as there is no way that her friend would do such a thing.

You cannot say that women need to be listened to and believed when they come forward about rape and then on the other hand shame a woman who did just that.

What Lena has done is really fucking cruel. She has used her incredible social media reach and labelled this girl a liar before knowing any of the details.

I know that there are many that would say the reverse is true of the accused also, that until he is tried and found guilty fingers cannot be pointed, but I made the decision a while a go that if a woman says she was raped then I believe her. Period.

83% of rape cases do not end with a conviction. It is apparently too hard to prove in most cases. But with a culture that inherently refuses to believe women and will go so far as to victim blame and shame them if they come forward, I wonder just how true this is.

Lena is a very privileged, wealthy, white woman from a successful artistic family. She has obviously had her trials and tribulations, but for the most part her perspective is skewed and she cannot speak for all of us no matter how hard she tries. Perhaps I have put too much weight in the power of her words. And perhaps it is time for her to sit down and let other women speak now. If she is going to shame a woman while defending a potential rapist she no longer is a voice I want to speak for me.

I understand it must be hard to hear that your friend could possibly have committed such a horrific crime. But the truth is that most men that rape aren’t the scary, sinister monsters they are imagined to be. Usually they are just regular looking dudes who I am sure in other ways can be perfectly nice human beings.

A perfect example of this has been Louis C.K.

When I first read that Louis had been accused of sexual assault I couldn’t believe it. How could such a sweet, seemingly enlightened, talented guy be capable of such gross acts?

But he is guilty. Even he says so.

Comedian Sarah Silverman’s comments around Louis’ actions were particularly honest and admirable. She spoke about how she has found it really difficult to find out her best friend (Louis C.K) had done these things and that we need to look after the survivors of these crimes and help them in what ever ways we can. Lena would have done well to take a page out of Sarah’s book.

In saying all this, the last thing I want to be doing is blaming women for rapist’s actions. Yes I believe Lena was wrong, very wrong, but the bigger issue is that a woman has accused a man of rape and it is this rapist and only the rapist that the fingers of blame should be pointed.

What is happening in Hollywood feels like a watershed moment. For the first time in probably ever, women are coming forward to share their assault stories and people are listening. The swamp is being drained and hopefully what is happening in this industry will begin filtering through to all areas of our society. But in the meantime I think the best thing we can do is listen.

 

The hateful truth

In the past week I have had three separate conversations with friends of mine where we shared the areas of our bodies that we hate most. This probably happens all the time but for some reason I was particularly aware of it recently and it was pretty horrifying. When I look at the gorgeous women I am lucky enough to call friends I cannot see why they would be so daft as to think there is anything wrong with the way they look. However if I look at my thoughts about myself the narrative is very different.

“In a society that profits from your self-doubt liking yourself is a rebellious act.”

I can’t find who exactly is responsible for this quote but I feel strongly that it is a battle cry we should all embrace.

We are taught from as early as possible that our bodies are imperfect and will never be good enough. We don’t have to be told this outright, it is just a fact that we all inherently know. An ideal version of beauty is chosen for our times and this is what we must all aspire to look like. The problem being that this “ideal” really doesn’t exist. We can never be skinny enough, pretty enough, prefect enough. But we will spend our lifetimes trying to achieve it nevertheless.

One of the worst conversations women can surely have with each other is the self-deprecating discussion of what areas of their bodies they dislike the most. One may hate her arms and refuse to ever wear short sleeve tops even in the peak of summer, the other may hate her legs and how no matter what she tries they never seem to be slim enough. Both will admonish the others ridiculous claims and tell their friend that they have nothing to worry about, but neither will take this advice themselves. We can so easily see the beauty in the women around us, but find it almost impossible to extend this same kindness to ourselves.

Learning that the story we have all been fed is a lie and only a way to control us is freeing but even then overriding our training to not appreciate the way we look is a long and arduous journey. We continue to keep fighting to be thin, keep spending our income on miracle creams to “fix” our ageing faces, spending so much energy and time trying to perfect our “imperfect” selves.

What could we achieve if our attentions were not taken up with this Sisyphean ordeal? How would the beauty industry, the fashion industry and the health and exercise industries alter if we all decided to choose the radical path of loving ourselves and our bodies just as they are? Would the world collapse? Or would we finally have time to break the patriarchy wide open and force the world to give us true equality that still remains just out of reach? Probably not. But it is a lovely thought.

I guess for now I’ll keep trying to look at myself kindly, try to ignore what the scales tell me and keep attempting to shut down the self-doubt filled voice from within. I just hope it doesn’t take me a lifetime.

 

# Men Too

James Cordon of The Late Late Show fame recently found himself in hot water over jokes he made about some of the things Harvey Weinstein has been accused of. I really like Cordon as a general rule but after reading about the nature of his jokes I was pretty shocked.

Cordon has since come out and said that his jokes were meant to shame Weinstein for his abhorrent actions. But what he actually did was make light of the sexual harassment, assault and rape claims against Weinstein.
While it is awful, it’s not surprising. The fact that a “decent” guy like Cordon can’t see what’s wrong here is indicitive of just how deep this problem goes.
We live in a rape culture, whether we want to admit it or not. This is part of the dark underbelly of our current society and it’s time for the change to come.

What Weinstein has done is not unique. The horrid fact that his actions have been known about and covered up for so long by the toxic predatory community in Hollywood is also not unique. But what is a bit more unique and hopefully will become less so is the fury that people are expressing over it. Leading the charge and the dialogue are actresses like Rose McGowan and Ashley Judd, women who have long been vocal about Weinstein attacking them, and for so long no one listened to them.

Nevertheless they persisted.

How many women need to come forward before they will believed? 35 women accused Bill Cosby but it was only after a man pointed this out that anyone listened, and even so he is still a free man. So maybe the question needs to be – how many times can a man rape and assault women before they are convicted.

A lot it would seem.

The number of Weinstein accusers are up to 50…and still counting.
What Weinstein has been accused of is truly horrific – and I do believe he has done these things – but perhaps what is happening could finally shake things up and expose the predatory culture that exists within and without of the movie industry.

Outside of Hollywood a dialogue has begun that is long overdue. The hashtag #metoo has been trending over the last week, brave women all over the social media world are coming forward and sharing their own stories of sexual harassment and assault to show just how many people this affects.

I would wager that for every one woman who has posted this hashtag there are at least ten more who have been through the same thing and have stayed silent.

Although #metoo has been trending recently it is actually 10 years old. The battle cry was originally created by a woman called Tarana Burke. She coined the term in 2007 for a youth organisation called Just Be Inc. Burke created it to try and help sexual assault survivors in underprivileged communities, particularly women of colour. It is sad that Burke’s authorship was diminished while actress Alyssa Milano was credited, and it is probably indicative of the deeper issue that while all women are affected by sexual assualt women of colour are the least likely to be listened to, acknowledged and helped. So even within the realms of feminism and sisterhood there is a lot of work to do.

While I admire the women using #metoo and secretly wish I could have been as courageous, I don’t believe it should just be up to women. More men need to join this conversation. Enough of being complicit by staying silent when these things are happening, enough of not believing a woman when she shares her story. Enough of hiding behind the fact that you didn’t see it. And definitely enough of telling women to get over it or justifying these actions in anyway -“boys will be boys” anyone?!

For there to be any hope of change support needs to come from both sides of the gender divide.

Quentin Tarantino recently admitted that he had witnessed Weinstein’s abhorrent behaviour year’s ago and did nothing. He has admitted that he is ashamed that he did nothing. His honesty is admirable to a degree but it is still upsetting that he has stayed silent for so long. His statement has divided people as well because he ended his statement saying that he hoped it would not affect people’s reactions to any of his future work which has cast doubt over his true intentions.

Kevin Smith who has made some of his best movies with Weinstein has released a statement saying that he knew nothing of Weinstein’s actions but that he is completely disgusted and has pledged to give all future royalties from these movies to women’s support groups.

It is hard to know whether to be grateful for the acknowledgement of these men or to see it as too little too late, but maybe we should just accept that these are the first baby steps towards women being listened to believed and no longer having to fight the fight alone.

Breakups in the age of social media

Break ups suck, of that I know for sure. Whether you are the dumper or the dumped or feigning a “conscious uncoupling” they are a weird and shitty time for all. But while once one could cut all ties, burn all photos and move on hopefully safe in the knowledge that you will never see your ex again – today in the age of social media this is no longer the case.

You can de-friend your ex, block your ex, unfollow their friends, you can even unfollow your own friends but yet still somehow some way there is still a chance you will find out exactly what they are up to. This digital nightmare is where I have found myself in recent times.

I broke up with someone last year. I say broke up because I don’t know how else to term it. We were forced to part because my visa had run out and I had to return to my home country. We stayed in touch and I was hopeful we would meet again, but as it would appear he was less so. Within a short amount of time he had become distant and cold and it was not long after that it came to an end. Stupidly I remained Facebook friends with him in the vague hope that there was in fact still hope for us.

Mama didn’t raise no quitter.

It was only after I went back for a holiday and tried to catch up with him that I finally got the message. I had tentatively sent him a text asking if he wanted to meet up which to my surprise he had enthusiastically excepted. I had told myself that I wanted closure, whether this was true or not I am still trying to work out. Either way 5 minutes before we were supposed to meet as I waited anxiously in the bar I received a message from him letting me know he was not coming. I had been stood up.

I was out of excuses, dead horses to flog and idioms. So I de-friended him.

I assumed this would be the end of it, now we were no longer social media friends I would be blind to what was going on in his life. I was wrong.

Shortly after returning home and beginning the process of healing my broken heart, I was rudely brought back to reality when I saw something online. It was a photo taken of  several of my friends when they had caught up for dinner, he had been there and so had a mystery girl who was photographed with her hand affectionately laid over his. I felt like I had been punched in the stomach. I wanted to throw up.

De-friending had not been enough, I had to take more drastic measures. I deleted all of my social media apps and decided I would be taking a break from all of it for as long as I needed to.

This lasted a week.

As empowering as it had initially felt, after a while my FOMO wore me down and I re-entered the digital conversation once more.

When I returned I was weary of being accosted again by any offending images so I unfollowed his friends that through my relationship had become my friends. This was not enough, so then I had to begin unfollowing some of my friends as well. It had become a weird game of cat and mouse, at every turn where I thought I had escaped him there he was again looking happy and successful and like everything was great in his life. I know social media can be a lie but sometimes it’s hard to remember this when your ex’s gorgeous smiling face is stalking your social media channels.

Probably the weirdest part of this story is that I am also friends with his mother on Facebook. I know this sounds strange and that I probably should’ve de-friended her too but I really liked her and it appeared that she really liked me too. I had spent my last Christmas in the UK with him and her and I almost felt like she and I had become friends separate from him. I would feel bad removing her from my friend list. In the end though I had to unfollow her too.

It has taken me a while to get over him, longer that it probably had to. Today I have  finally let go of the hope that there is any chance of a re-coupling with this person and I have  got to that point where I see him for all that he is and isn’t as opposed to all that he and we could’ve been. But it has been a tiresome journey and if I had my time over again I would have cut the social media ties a lot sooner. I have learned ignorance in these circumstances is most definitely bliss.