I just re-read my old diary entires.

My last entry made me sound like a C U Next Tuesday, but I'd like to put it into perspective.

After my husband left, I drank so much wine I vomited down myself. Openly puked down my bra.  I then perked up and drunk some more.

Sexy beast that I was, I drank and cried, and passed out, and cried some more, until I found a relationship.

We did the same shit but with less puking. Total rebound. Lasted over a year.

Then I realised being along isn't so frightening.

I now have a normal relationship,  no puking, and I love

I haven't updated this blog for nearly 3 years. I haven't re-read my old entries because I honestly don't see the point...and I hope that one day you'll feel the same. You'll look back on this website and see it as a bridge for the future.

If I could send you anything, it would be the message that this *hurt* you're feeling ends when you chose it to. You don't have to keep living it. No one is asking you to.

I sound like a convoluted arsehole, but honest to God, this hurt will fade and life keeps going. You'll lose weight, you'll put it back on, you'll have intimacies with entirely

So it's been a few months.

Physical changes

I finally moved out of our house with the help of friends and family. My husband refused to have anything to do with the whole moving thing, so I spent a couple of weeks going through our possessions, dividing it up, and had his share delivered to his parents house. Possibly the most heartbreaking task I've ever had to deal with. I kept stumbling across memories I'd long forgotten.

There have been some major difficulties financially. Over the course of moving house, I've had 4 bailiffs turn up demanding money for various debts that my husband either