Archive for the ‘Relationship shit’ Category


Porra and I rarely fight, but today we are not on speaking terms. Well. That is not entirely correct. I am on speaking terms with him, but he is not on speaking terms with me. The joy of BBM and what’s app and whatnot is that you can see when someone has seen your message, but chosen not to respond.

I was in a single parents group therapy session after work yesterday from 5pm – 6:30pm. Being anally prepared, I had beforehand already gone to the shops and got the evenings supplies of bread, milk and chocolate. So they were ready in the boot so I could get a cold Teenie home straight after the meeting. It ends rather late and she is already stroppy enough about sitting in the waiting room for me for an hour and fifteen minutes without another half hour shopping expedition thereafter. Supper was ready in the fridge. Just needed a burst in the microwave to warm it up.

A favourite day because Beauty the Domestic Goddess had visited in the day and cleaned beautifully and probably made the house smell as good and clean and fresh as it can ever get.

Just before the meeting I get a message that Porra is going to grace my home with his presence.

Now. I don’t like sudden changes or people throwing curve balls into my schedule. Porra’s schedule is not to come to my house on a Tuesday, but a Wednesday.

Bottom line. I am in a bad mood and – after I have done my mothering for the day – I just want to be left alone on the couch watching crap British soapies, sucking on my Twisp and my chocolate alternatively.

I am not in the mood for Porra making a mess in the newly clean kitchen and moaning about my choice of TV.

Sitting in the meeting – my phone is on vibrate – I can hear my handbag shaking like a jelly on a trampoline. Sigh !

My head starts to get angry. I know Porra has forgotten where I am. I know Porra is phoning to find out where I am.

The irritated part of me (not the lovng and tolerant persona I am trying to aspire to) thinks “for fecks sake. Just let me have a session in peace !!!”.

After the meeting – on checking my phone. Sure as dammit, there are missed calls and various messages with a final plea to please bring tomato paste home.

My knee jerk reaction (and the one I wihtout a thought followed) was to reply “No. I have already been to the shops before the meeting. Teenie and I have supper in the fridge”

I arrived home to WW III with Porra shouting loudly that getting a tin of tomato paste was on my way (it wasn’t) and Porra does this for me and that for me, I am a bitch, I am selfish and yadda yadda blah blah fishpaste.

I do realise I was a tad selfish and could have gone and got him a tin for his supper, but – you know what – at the time – I did not take kindly to this curve ball in my schedule and him just pitching up at the last moment when his schedule allowed and demanding I go back to the shop for the third time of the day. It was not a demand at the time, but by not following the instruction it has turned into a command that I did not follow (gettit ?!)

I said sorry about 20 times and agreed yes I was selfish. I’ve left it at that. We had a few fake conversations during the evening (i.e. I spoke, he grunted) and we slept in the same bed together (not touching of course!)

I sent him a kissing smiley this morning and a question mark. Which was read, but not responded to (thank you what’s app for your technology!)

I would usually get all disturbed about it, but I have learnt that I’ve done my best to make amends and make things right and the rest just needs time. I cannot hurry up the peace making alone.

Giving me the silent treatment is passive aggression and immature.

Let’s see how this pans out.


The last time I posted I was bemoaning the fact that life between the sheets had not changed much and I did not live in hope of a miracle turnabout.

Well God must have a sense of humour or be evil enough to enjoy yanking my chain as shortly thereafter God sent Porra off to Johannesburg – where Porra thinks the streets are paved with gold. Well. OK. There are alot more jobs up there.

So  – thank you Higher Power for sending my sheet partner away – NOT !

Not for one week. Not for two weeks, but for 17 days ! This does not seem alot, but includes 3 weekends on my own. Porra drove off into the sunrise, bakkie puffing an exhaust cloud and a poof of building material – with a shout of a vague return date.

I had a good sense of humour about it for the first week. I got the remote to myself and could watch “Say yes to the dress” and “Eastenders” without horrible choking noises coming from my right.

Then the said return date changed. Pushed out to longer.

Then at some point during the business trip there was elation (from Porra’s side) about landing a huge contract and bleatings about skipping back for a bit and then being away again for another month.

Then he went out to a party with old friends.

My sense of wellbeing and smugness at having the remote to myself started to wear off. I started to miss the man. I started to think – no- know – that this is a crap situation. I hadn’t signed up for a long distance relationship.

Have a glass of wine . Drown sorrows. Pass some time.

Oh feck. Can’t. Am alcoholic (your one glass = my six glasses)

Step up meetings.

Oh feck. Babysitter.

Babysitter found.

Plan everything with military precision.

I was a single mom for 8 years and have forgotten how much hard work it is on your own.

I do not want to do it on my own.

I feel so hurt about it all. Which is silly because Porra is away because of work not because he is shagging Pamela Anderson at the Formula One Hotel, Midrand.

Long distance love sucks.

I would love to tell you dear blog that I have found a cure for my sexual problems.

But I haven’t.

I remain disinterested.

I still avoid it.

I still find it distressing.

I feel asexual.

I would rather have a cup of coffee, a chocolate and a YOU magazine thank you very much.

I continue to “sacrifice” myself to Porra once a week or once every ten days to keep the peace.

We struggle through it with both of us pretending it’s all OK ……when it aint.

Had a brain wave last night to google ” I don’t like sex” and see that pops up.

Yes, we’ve been broken up for over 11 years.

Tweenie’s Dad.

Why my eyes are moist I have no idea.

I was already having a crappy day. Some arsehole left a screwdriver in the road and it ended up in my tyre. Porra to the rescue  ! (he was there is lightning speed. He should really invest in a cape!)

My anxiety was at 120% already.

I feel sad Tweenie’s Dad is getting married. Moist eyes while eating speckled eggs. Not sure why I have feelings about this. Part of me is angry that he just carries on with his life no matter what crisis Tweenie is in.

Just gone to the shops and got a big box of Biral (herbal tranquilizer) and a big bag of speckled eggs.


Porra can be a right dinosaur male sometimes.

Just because he cooks for us and helps with housework does not mean he does not have a male chauvinist side.

It sometimes becomes so apparent I don’t know who he is.

I think there may also be a cultural difference where portuguese men are listened to by their woman folk and they do what they are told (?) (I is not portuguese woman folk. More of pommy woman folk who are a bit more on the side of “what he can do, I can do better” ala Julie Andrews)

I am upstairs doing a post instead of throwing my blackberry at him.

To see my phone bounce off his forehead now would give me great pleasure.

There is a weekend away coming up which I might not be able to make. For whatever reasons.

The point is that when I wanted to go to World Super Bikes in Johannesburg, I was not “allowed” to go unless Porra came with me. Porra  was broke – as usual – and he couldn’t afford to go so we both stayed home and got to only watch all the excitement on the telly

<this has been a sore point for me ever since as it was later decided that WSB would not come back to SA again… I lost out seriously. Like forever !>

The weekend in question is also to do with biking.

“So” I mentioned to Porra ten minutes ago…..”I might not be able to make it”…

“Ohhhh shame” he says. “I have to go” Mumble mumble “good reasons” “good reasons”

I was – of course –  surprised to hear he thinks he is going to skip off into the sunrise for a weekend away without me…..when the previous deal was I had to stay home.

His insane though (fecking) processes is that a girl should not go away to an organised party event (i.e. WSB) on their own, but it is fine for him to go if I cannot (for whatever reasons) make it.

What will people think of him if I go away on my own, “people” will gossip, it isn’t right for a girl to do this, I am dumb for not understanding…

<I want to hit him at this point and have threatened to hit him if he calls me dumb once more>

I am all for a level of freedom in a relationship. Not an open sexual relationship ala Will Smith and Jada Pinkett you understand. 

Porra goes out quite often for an evening with Messy and I enjoy a couple of nights a month out with the  girls at dinner.

I am only interested in having tit for tat and equality.

I have to sometimes deal with the pigheadedness at home. My blood is boiling. Which leads me to another gender gripe.

When Messy – his 16 year old – comes over to spend the night, he often brings his 17 year old girlfriend. Even though I have objected – many times, Porra lets them share a room and a bed. 

Again, we have had the discussions about it and he refuses to make them sleep apart. A boy must learn somehow and all that crap.

Again, double standards because I am as sure as hell I can safely bet my life’s savings that when it is Tweenie’s turn to bleat that she is old enough at 16 to share a bed with her hairy boyfriend – that Porra will lay down the law that it ain’t fecking happening.

<he has admitted already that it will not happen because she is a girl>

Double standards to the nth degree.

Makes me so furious not to be treated equal.

One of the things that the adult child program has given me is a relationship. With a real live normal grown man.

I was going to say healthy relationship, but who am I to judge.

So let’s say – I have a working relationship with the Porra.

My relationship is going extremely well at the moment. The longer we date and live together, the better it seems to get.

We’re working through the sexual aspects at the moment and – after nearly 5 years – he is used to – and can usually guess – all my adult child quirks.

<last night he could see something was wrong. What’s wrong ? he says. Nothing I lied. I had gone into my head and imagined that for our evenings viewing he was going to choose the movie to watch and I wasn’t going to have a say. I’d already decided I was going to bath and read my book instead. I’d already had the whole argument in my head and was upset before he’d even come downstairs from his bath ! I told him why I was upset and he said…..but of course we will choose a movie together you silly billy.

Does this sound logical to anyone out there ?>

Yes, yes, yes….there’s been really crap times when I thought the relationship was overs <hit the “relationship shit” category tab on the right to read about me bitching and bleating about how horrible Porra is when he was retrenched and had to claw himself up from the financial gutter>

I am not sure if our relationship is conventional, but it doesn’t really matter I suppose. I’m learning not to worry about how it should work, but rather be thankful that it is working right now.

I’ve never been in a relationship for this long. It’s all new to me. And I am 100% sure it has only lasted this long because of the program.

So ….I’ve seen people on Facebook bitching that it’s a commercial crock of bull. And that you should show the ones you love, you love them everyday yada yada.

I don’t care. I’m really liking Valentine’s Day this year. I never expect Porra to do anything because I know his money is tight….

But I came home to choccies, flowers and movie tickets tonight.

And he posted a lurve message on my Facebook wall.

<yes I am 42. I am sounding 16 I know>

That’s what happiness is all about.

Being loved by someone that knows you well and loving them return.

Right. Enough soppy shit for one day. Off to the movies with my chocolate.

Nom nom nom.

There is a book on my bedside table called a Million Little Pieces by James Frey. I admit that I never finished it. Didn’t get past the few first few chapters. A famous book not so much because of it’s great writing, but for the fact that it was meant to be an accurate bio about drug addiction and rehab. The author was later ousted as having embellished the story somewhat.

<will get back to that book one day>

I saw my Dr Ruth on Tuesday before work.

I explained the weeks previous events. Around day 7 or 8 of no sex with Porra, I start feeling guilty. I feel a Big Worry descend on me. Bed time is now a anxiety ridden time for me. I should be “in the mood” sometimes, but I am not in the mood ever. I do sometimes feel sexual like towards Porra, but these are usually at inappropriate times (at the dentist WTF)

Probably this is safe for me. I get to feel the physical feelings, but there is no chance of following it through (he isn’t usually there for one).

Option a) we start something and I feign interest while worrying about it all (am I allowed to say no ? what position was it last time ? will my body be turned on ? am I feeling responsive or is it feeling like he is slobbering on me ? the list is endless)

Option b) we start nothing and I feel guilty (day 1 to 4 after sex I don’t feel sooooo guilty)

Option a) occurred on the Wednesday night, but I couldn’t get into the mood. Porra picked up on this half way through and put a halt to the proceedings.

How humilating.

He could see/feel I wasn’t interested and he wasn’t keen if I wasn’t keen. Feck – I failed at faking keen.

After abit of an argument……where I explained I was just trying to please him and he told me it’s awful if I am not interested. I ended up crying myself to sleep with Porra hugging me tight. I really cried. Not light boo hooo I feel so sorry for myself tears (or you should feel sorry for me tears because you made me cry), but the deep tears that feel like old 30 year old tears. Those sort of tears even sound different to me. There is an oldness, a deep tone and a heaviness about them.

My Dr Ruth has helped me understand a few things……

  • MDR (My Dr Ruth) asked me to start drawing with my left inner child hand. This is one of the pictures about where some of the abuse happened. I cannot remember much about this particular bedroom,  but I do remember the big 1970’s perv mirror at an angle above the headboard. And I do remember exactly where the porn mags were. From this picture I’ve been able to see that I associate normal male adult “wanting to see” my body stuff ….with my stepdad’s pervy voyeuristic bedroom mirror. This is why I cannot stand being looked at by Porra….in a totally normal male way. It plays a huge part in why I am so turned off.
  • Because the abuse occurred all over my childhood house and was not any particular room at any particular time, I feel that I need to have a different experience each time. Or more so…..that Porra needs a different position or experience each time. This stresses me out as I worry about how he is experiencing it (is it varied enough ? Am I boring ?) and not my experience. Also some of it I don’t even like. I would rather things be done “my way” for a while….for instance with me being in control…..but I am too worried……because my brain is trained into pleasing the male and having it varied………….no matter how much I  want it to just be the same and safe for now.
  • My stepdad abused me in various ways and there is very little sexual acts or parts of me that somehow don’t link it back to the abuse. I don’t like to touch Porra’s nether regions, I don’t like him to touch me there with his hand, I cannot talk during sex, Porra must not move my hand anywhere or push my head anywhere, do not smell repulsive (booze or food smells). The Diddy- Abuse-Guidelines- and- Regulations seem too much and exhausting for me sometimes and there is not much I like. The self inflicted guidelines are to keep me safe, but they stifle me at the same time. It feels like it is easier not to bother.

But an aha moment for me. I’ve always tried to fix myself back to normal sexuality (whatever that is)…. After hearing my worries and thoughts and processes with the daily battles with sex (or no sex if you think of it)…..MDR says…..

you know what…..your sexuality is broken into a million pieces….you are never going to be able to piece it all back together……..

it’s time to work with what we have got.

This is a new concept for me. Therapy to me is  always about normalising myself back to what other people are like.

MDR is telling me otherwise.

Work around my sexual abuse and build a sexual life that suits me and Porra. A tailor made sex life.

Broken into a million pieces. But moving on regardless.

A very comforting thought since I heard it. Very.

I had an excellent session with my Dr Ruth yesterday morning.  A really big aha moment for me about my ongoing battle with sexual relations.

I am in a crap mental space. Have been for a while. I am miserable and complicated and the classic adult child characteristic of “having difficulty having fun <insert without wine>”.

But then I s’pose digging around in the times when 9 year old you got to jerk off your drunken step-father is bound not fill you with the joys of spring.

Yes. Yes. Yes. I’ve seen pictures on facebook saying “don’t look back”, but mentally my step father is in my mind and house every day infecting me.

I had planned to do a post last night about my Dr Ruth. Got home. Notebook flat. Plugged it in to charge. At some point Porra plugged in his i-pod. 10pm I am ready to start whacking the keyboard.

Somehow his i-pod stuffed up my internet access and I couldn’t use my notebook. PMS Diddy was not amused. I sulked and went to bed.

So here is a quick “at work” post of a non-sexual nature:

Drunken mother – nothing is by accident and I bumped into someone from the AA fellowship last week that I know quite well. I have had a few “signs” about me and AA during January. Firstly, I stumbled on the book “Memoirs of an Unfit Mother” about Ann Robinson (she of the weakest link fame and an alcoholic). Secondly, a mug I accidently “lifted” from an AA conference turned up in my house after being AWOL for 3 years. I was shocked to see it. I could smell the Higher Power aura around it. Porra had found it in the garage and returned it to the house…………and now bumping into “Miss M”.

I’ve organised to meet “Miss M” and discuss AA and binge drinking and what-ever-the-way-I-drink with her…………..all the fellowships recomend to sit out 6 meetings and see if you relate before making a call. And it may be time for old Diddy to follow her own preachings.

Fancy Pants School – I had a lot of tears over the potential “forced removal” of Tweenie from her school. To cut a long story short, Daughter Dear’s Dad changed his story towards the end of his time in Cape Town and said it was never his intention to move her and that I must “cut costs” in terms of medical (the damn medical aid runs out every year in July). I feel very unsettled around this and feel I am at his mercy in terms of Tweenie’s education and medical care. She needs a counsellor to deal with her suicidal thoughts and anxiety. So how to get her a counsellor and “cut costs” ?? A counsellor for her twice a month is going to be more costs and I can’t get around that. I am going to see the maintenance lawyer so get something formal set up.

It’s 8am……back to work !

As one does after a birthday binge, I was duly full of remorse for passing out falling asleep  at my birthday party.

Mental pictures of AA meetings abounded. I could already see myself on coffee duty in a dusty old church hall with uncomfortable plastic stack out chairs.

Yes, I said to Porra. I’ll go back to AA.

Yes, I shouldn’t have drank wine on an empty stomach.

Yes, I have a problem.

Yes, I am sorry I embarrassed you.

Sorry sorry sorry. And sorry again just for good fecking luck.

As the remorse lessened over the days so did my ideas of going to a dusty mildew smelling hall.

As I spoke to some long time friends who disagreed with the I-am-an- alcoholic- analysis, my desire for change diminished.

Trouble is. AA is all about abstinence. This is a little pesky if you are a wine lover. AA is not, how to eat on a full stomach and choose “lighter” drinks that won’t travel into ones bloodstream so fast (been there, tried that and failed repeatedly)

Trouble is. Porra has a memory like a fecking elephant and remembers all those  repentant bleatings.

Trouble is. A week later he will still hucking on about it.

And I remain unforgiven.

Any inkling of an idea that I have a problem has been super-super-ceded into the fact that Porra is telling me what I must and must not do.

An ideas of change for the better are now all caught up in my teenage rebellion.

“You will not be drinking again”

“You will be going to AA”

“I just as well have stayed with my ex-wife if you are going to turn out the same”

Weeellllllll…..says I. Then if I am a bona fide alcholic….how about you go to Al-Anon ? Then you can learn about it being a disease and how alcoholics cannot stop by sheer willpower.

Feck dat says Porra in his veggie shop accent.

You are the one with the problem not me. Of course you can stop by willpower. Just do it !

………and then my anger starts boiling.

………and then I dig my goat heels in like any decent Capricorn chick.

I know where the anger comes from. I flipped out this weekend in such a rage. I shouted and screamed at Porra like I have never dared to. Porra flipped out right back at me in rage.

The intense anger I feel is a throw back from being under the  iron fist rule of my crazy ass step-dad.

I hate being controlled.

I hate being told what to do.

Hate doesn’t even describe it. I rebell against it. I resist it to the max in a spate of anger. I start to despise the controller.

In fact I usually will do exactly the opposite of what I am being told to do !

Even if it’s in my best interests.

At this point, I refuse to go to an AA meeting. Purely because if I go to an AA meeting, Porra will be watching me like a hawk from atop his high almighty horse that he is on.

Sexual problems – cool – ship Diddy off to a sex therapist

Alcohol problems – cool – ship Diddy off to AA

This could be denial and avoidance and all those beautiful things I’ve read about. I don’t know.

I just feel all out of being shipped off right now.


Things have got abit hairy for me lately.

<this sounds like I haven’t made it for a wax in time>

Let me rephrase. Things have got a bit rough for me lately.

I have been working so hard and long at work that I have developed I-am-run-down- mouth ulcers. My friend Google says this is a symptom of HIV !!!! Thanks a lot Google !

But I had a test at a church fete a few years back so I know my status. So. Neh !

<strange place to have a test. Well there you go.>

Went to the friendly Clicks pharmacy on Saturday who laughed at my guess what- I- found- on- Google answer, but said it IS a symptom of HIV because of the lowered immune system experienced by sufferers ! Which is what I have. A low immune system. Voila  ! Mouth ulcers.

So now I am bunging TWO vitamin pills down my throat every morning (not that I usually take any. Trying to pool shock the ulcers outta there !) and swabbing my mouth with Teejel type stuff.

Well. Feeling on top of the world (not) with a scabby mouth and 13 hour work days has not bode good tidings for things between the sheets.

In fact, I feel a total failure and f@ck up in that arena. Have shed some tears today.

But that is a whole seperate post.

I read a reading yesterday about thinking there are two doors in life. If you keep on opening the same door, you will get the same results. I decided to open the other door today. Not to moan at Porra for being too sexually pushy/agressive/a pest/insensitive….but to concerntrate on my part in the equation. He is just a man wanting to sleep with his girlfriend who happens to detest sex.

Like I said. Another post !

I have been a VERY big girl and picked up the phone and tried to make an appointment with a sex therapist who is au fait with child sexual abuse.

I say “tried”…because the receptionist does not have the appointment book and will phone me back later.

Well. One foot in the door eh ? One step and all that kak.

Moving onto staff problems. Whenever I hear people say “ooohhhh I don’t like conflict !”. I think WTF !? Does anyone ? What a silly statement. Who the fock thinks “yayyyyyy !!! some conflict today !!! Bring it ON !”

Am having staffing issues with a youngster Slick. But – surprising – I don’t feel as uncomfortable as I used to.

Must be progress and not perfection.

From: Diddy
Sent: 31 October 2011 09:36 AM
To: HR Boss Lady
Cc: Speed Queen


SLICK – not following instructions


Hi HR Boss Lady

As discussed,Slick is not following instructions – despite in some cases procedure notes being issued, constant reminding, meetings and follow ups. The other two administrators follow the procedures no problem so it cannot be a lack of communication on my part.

Attached are examples:

  • Not saving emails under H Drive in respect of late contributions/data
  • Cash management not up-to-date
  • Not sending out risk data and proof of deposits daily as requested
  • Not moving files off desktop as repeatedly requesting such
  • Not updating updates control

Please could you call a meeting me/Slick/yourself.


Team Leader