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Memoirs of a Christopher

A raw and honest look into the life of a Young Widow(ish).

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I can’t compete

I can’t compete. Tonight I went out to a costume party. I looked ridiculous… So did everybody else. Then we out. I saw 2 chicks from our group. 2 lovey, amazing, intelligent, funny chicks. They’d gone home. And they’d got changed. And they looked hot. Their game was on… and good on them! But I can’t compete… I am me. I am hairy.. I am dishevelled… and on occasion I am funny. But I can’t keep competing. I go out to clubs and I see girls dancing, but they’re not dancing for themselves… I see their eyes dancing across the dance floor to see if any guy has caught their glance. I can’t compete. I can’t do this. Once upon a time I was loved for who I was. Can’t we all be loved for who we are? Can I be loved for who I am, again? Ps: I left my card in the ATM tonight, I win at life!
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The Bachelor Blues

As you may recall from a previous post I was kind of joking about applying for the TV show The Bachelor. Well, after a couple (or more) glasses of wine I actually did it! And what seemed like a pie in the sky idea soon turned into a crazy whirlwind of craziness, involving flight offers, interviews, cameras and auditions where we were made to do all sorts of things that kind of just reminded me of team building exercises I complete for work…

Throughout the whole process I had this strange underlying sense of confidence, you know that feeling you get when you are kind of guaranteed something is going to happen? Second round of activities had been completed and it was announced that only ONE girl from the 20 in my group was going to be chosen to go to the next round, which obviously was me, otherwise I wouldn’t be blogging about it. The next round was the final round and I was sat in front of the camera and was interviewed by a panel of people. I had zero nerves and spoke confidently about my experiences of losing Chris.. Of how no I haven’t dated someone since.. How yes I feel like I am ready to date someone else.. How I was a blobby, ball of mess immediately after Chris died. The panel all smiled at each other. They all smiled at me. They kind of gave me the sense they were onto a winner (of course it was a winner. Tragedy, love, it’s TV gold right?)

We were given psych tests to complete. I answered honestly. Had I been sad sometime this last week?.. Yes, somewhat I had been. Had I been lonely sometime this last week? Yes, of course. My partner was killed a year and a half ago. I’m always a little bit sad and lonely. Doesn’t mean I’m depressed. It’s a natural reaction to this sort of event. Surely it wouldn’t affect my application.

I left the audition feeling confident. Then a couple of days later I started to become nervous. What if I actually got on? What were the possibilities? I could share my story about Chris. Perhaps changes in Workplace safety could be made. I could meet someone amazing. And if not those things, I could have an incredible experience.

Soon the stakes were even higher. I realised I didn’t get a First Round offer from uni to get into Midwifery. Fuck. What if I don’t get into uni AND didn’t get onto the Bachelor?! I would have taken a year’s leave without pay for nothing, and sitting and doing nothing is probably not the best for my mental health. I started to get anxious. I was wanting this Bachelor experience too much.. And I know when I want something too much, it doesn’t happen.

Second round offers for Midwifery came out and I was accepted. Phew. I had a back up plan! But by now, my imagination had taken me too far, and I was too invested in the Bachelor experience.

I waited and waited for a phone call. Nothing. I ended up getting in contact with them.. Which we all know is a bad sign. They gave me the bad news. They said they debated over me and went backwards and forwards, but decided, finally that no I wasn’t going to go on.

I hung up.

And truthfully?

I’m devastated.

Not that I didn’t get on the show so much. More so that I still can’t believe that Chris could die, and then nothing after that really happens.

Physics says, everything has an equal and opposite reaction.

But not death.

This show was going to be that for me. The equal and opposite reaction. It was going to change my life. Forever alter it. Just like Chris’ death has.

But it didn’t happen.

And I’m just here… Picking up the pieces… Living a boring life. With a giant hole in my heart.

 

 

2 months. 1 post.

So it has been a while since I have come on here to write anything.. In fact I came pretty close to deleting the whole site but couldn’t bear to lose ‘The Memoirs of a Christopher’ web address I had given this page. I don’t know why I have been so hesitant to post.. Just every time I logged on with a story I just couldn’t be bothered. Probably something to do with the whole trying to avoid the going down the grief rabbit hole thing. Anyways I’m back!! And that’s because I have had a down week. A super down week.

It involved: (As Chris would put it) “Losing my rag” at the kids on Friday and wanting to walk out of the classroom (which is unlike me), randomly starting to cry over my delicious chocolate and caramel mud cake and latte in the cafe today (which was totally not a crying matter) and having anger bubbling through my veins that would rival the flame burning from the top of Anger’s head in the movie Inside Out. I honestly couldn’t put my finger on it. Time of the month? No. Stress from work? Usually it doesn’t get to me like THAT… I really couldn’t figure it out until someone posted a picture on Facebook from a year ago. Chris’ memorial service in the UK was a year ago today. I had completely forgotten, but my heart and evidently my body, had not.

And before you judge me, no, I’m not a completely terrible girlfriend that had forgotten Chris’ date of death and funeral. Chris had actually died over a month prior, but because of the manner of death and the different logistics involved of different sides of the world and country etc, his service in his home town was not held until a much later date. It had all become a bit of a blur to me by that point..

For the year ‘saddiversary’ of his actual death I actually had a plan. That plan was to run far, far away to a place where I did not have to speak to or acknowledge anyone and to pamper myself like there was no tomorrow. I ran away to Bali to do a bali retreat in Ubud. It was actually incredible. We focused on mindfulness meditation which allowed my brain to slow down, if only for a moment. I had full body massages, which allowed me to be touched by another person (I think I have almost forgotten what that is!) We also got to go to a temple and bathe in the holy water, praying for the things we wanted in the future. But my most favourite part was on the last day where we got to write down things we wanted to let go of and burn them… We then took the ashes down to a river and threw them in with a bunch of flower petals.

I want to let go of the guilt I feel for being the reason Chris came to Australia, which is where he died. I want to let go of feeling responsible and guilty over my mother.

I am not one for hippy voodoo crap.. But I must admit watching those flowers float away down that river and repeatedly chanting what I want to let go of in my life WAS cleansing.. I felt much lighter on my return. So you could imagine my surprise when I went into my Instagram and realised the Olympian had private messaged me… Maybe it was all that secret praying at the temple I had done?!

Ok, so I’m pretty sure he was drunk when he initially private messaged me. It was the grand final day for the Austalian Rules Football after all… And yes, he had only just broken up with his girlfriend so he probably just wanted some flirty banter. But he gave me his number!! Woo! We actually had some pretty awesome conversation happening, and I think we have a similar sense of humour. However….. I am coming from a background where I have not even kissed someone for over a year after a massive trauma. He is coming from a background where he has recently broken up with a super hot girlfriend. I am desperate. He is not. Hey don’t get me wrong he’s not being mean about it, I’m just getting the non interested vibe. But.. You can’t blame me. You can’t wave super hard abs and a nice arse in front of a poor deprived girl then just take it away! Just one photo, that’s all I want!! Cmmonnn!!! Puhhlleasssee?? Haha, imagine if he found this site. I would die. Literally die…… Hmm but perhaps that would solve some of my issues???……. Just kidding!

So yeh… These are the ponderings of a young widow: I am sad. I miss Chris. Yoga and meditation is relaxing. Hot guy is hot. But I miss Chris.

No wonder there’s so many emotions running through my veins. I think my head is going to explode.

Til next time!! (Whenever the hell that will be xxx)

(PS there’s been lots of teary outbursts amongst all this happening, but I just can’t be bothered harping on about the crying… Crying, crying, crying blerghhhhh, so over it!!)

Love love!

I’m a Rich Ass Bitch and I’m on a Mother Fucking BOAT!!!… So Why Am I Still Crying???

This week has been a bit of a shocking one… Maybe shocking isn’t quite the right word as that has negative connotations… This week has been a SURPRISING one.

Surprise one came in the form of a letter I was ripping open as I was tearing to the loo after returning home from work. It was from the insurance company and I was totally thinking it was going to say tough luck, too bad, you suck as it seems every other interaction I have had with departments regarding Chris’ death has gone down that route. So imagine my surprise when it was big fat cheque staring back at me… It was lucky I was on the toilet really!

Now most people’s reaction to this type of news in the mail would be screaming, jumping up and down, yelling, you know, general forms of excitement. But I just sat there with my mouth open. Then I started to feel gross.

This was Chris’ DEATH money. My 27 year old, loving, beautiful partner is dead for THIS. This type of money is what I have always dreamed of. It is the type of money you buy lotto tickets for… But all I could think was that Chris had to die for me to get this.

And then I started crying. I started getting annoyed at the irony.

This is what Chris was working for. This is why Chris went to work THAT day. So he could get this type of money to help us buy a house and a car and all those fancy ‘things’ that you WANT.

And then I started feeling guilty that I wasn’t appreciating this moment more. I mean, this is pretty much life changing and all I could feel was like shit. What a spoilt, unappreciative brat. There are people starving out there in the world, and here I am sitting on a toilet crying that I have been given a lump sum amount of money.

Arghghgshs allll the emotions. Too many emotions. I will love it when I’m not so bloody emotional ALL THE FRICKEN TIME ANYMORE!

Surprise number two.

My friends organised that I go out fishing with them and I was actually super duper excited. The last time I went fishing with them on the boat was with Chris so I was keen to do it again. My friend, let’s call her El, spun me this story about how her husband was fixing something on the boat with his mate at the harbour so we would have to wait and go get a coffee at the café. I was more than happy to do this so went along with her. I commented on how well she was dressed for going fishing, she was like yehhh I have my fishing shirt in the car. I saw my next door neighbour and I shouted out how funny that her and El were wearing matching clothes (blue and white striped navy, dress/shirt short combo). My neighbour, Dee laughed and said ha! That IS weird and jumped in her car and drove off. We ordered the coffee and a sandwich but by the time it came, El’s husband was calling for us to come meet him. We started walking down the pier and El couldn’t find her husband’s boat so gave him a call. “Fuck that’s so weird,” I said, “That sounded totally like Dee!”

“Nahh, that was N,” El replied.

“Holy crap really?! Far out that is SO bizarre, it sounded totally like Dee! I’m gonna ring N and I’m gonna get you to listen cos it changed his voice SOO much!”

We kept walking down… Hang on a second… There’s a boat with balloons…. Hang on a second…. That WAS Dee’s voice…. Hang on a second…

SURPRISE!!

My beautiful friend had organised a surprise boat pirate themed party. Everyone was dressed as pirates and we cruised the water and got to spend the day at our very own beach, Pirate’s Cove.

It truly was amazing.

So why the fuck did I keep getting the sads and the lonelies?! I was surrounded by amazing, beautiful people who had kept this a secret from me for so long, but yet, I kept feeling a hollowness in my chest.

One very special person was missing. And he would have fricken loved it.

That night, when I was back home by myself after many hours of drinking, I did my ugly screaming/crying.

This is so fucking shit. Not only do I miss Chris, without a shadow of a doubt, but I feel like I can never TRULY enjoy it even when things are incredible. It’s just so frustrating.

But I do appreciate the effort. And I do know I am loved. So I suppose, that is a good thing.

(PS: I’m not going to be a ‘rich ass bitch for long’. Am giving most of it to his parents and the rest will be going towards my studies next year. It’s the least I can do really..)

Just a touch of beach cricket on our own private oasis...
Just a touch of beach cricket on our own private oasis…

Blah.

After the excitement of the Olympian, nothing very interesting has been happening in my life of late. It’s just been coasting along, as life does. In fact, I’ve become weirdly numb to the whole “Your love of your life died suddenly” thing. I thought I’d be getting more upset about the upcoming month and it’s anniversaries, or at least reminiscing about the happy feelings I had with Chris this time last year. But it feels like I’m forgetting. I’m not even sad. I’m just succumbing. Is this acceptance? Or is this giving up? I don’t know – but it’s happening… One more thing that confirms the control we have over this life is actually very little.

Anyway, just thought I’d check in. I’m sure my next post will be much more inspiring… Or at the very least entertaining!

Hope you’re all well.

xx

My Night Out with an Olympian

This post was originally going to be about how hard life is, how there’s no hope, how I can’t keep going, blah blah blah blah… But then something strange happened.

After my epic failure of a night out trying to meet a man, I fell into a bit of a depressive hole. I saw no light at the end of the tunnel and it seemed like an endless drudgery of pain. Furthermore, my feelings were being compounded by the fact that the year ‘anniversary’ and my birthday (one of the happiest days of my life which occurred only 11 days before the accident) are next month, and creeping ever so closer. To survive (and yes, this journey for me can literally be a life or death battle) I needed something to change.

Almost miraculously, change something did.

I met an Olympian… And when I say an Olympian, I mean a no joke, full blown, body that people dream of, cute dress sense, lovely smile, Olympian (and please God, do not EVER let him find this page – Jesssuss, how embarrassing!)

Being a teacher we sometimes have people come into our schools to demonstrate and encourage people to play the sport that they are involved in, and this was one of those days. My best friend so happens to be the sports teacher so was directly involved with co-ordination of the program.

I was on my planning period and on my way to the office to do some photocopying. Up comes best friend with said Olympian.

He shook my hand.

Hoooolllllyyyy Mollllllly.

*Swwwwwwwwoooooooooooooooonnnnn*

I am a bit ashamed to say… I went all giggly.

I look at best friend. Oh it’s okay, she’s being all giggly and weird too!

I had to get outta there before I made a fool of myself… “Ummm I gotta go photocopy these pages… Yep busy, I’m reaaaalllllllllyyyyy busy hahahahahahahahaha”. Smoooothhh, I think to myself…. Reaalllll smoootthhhh.

I walk back to my office. Oh Jesus! He’s still there. Eep! I can’t look him in the face! What the hell is happening to me?! Now… Don’t get me wrong.. I like to think of myself as an, “I don’t need no maaaann,” strong independent type of woman. But I couldn’t control this! I had an hour left of preparation time and I could NOT for the life of me concentrate. It was like when we shook hands he put some kind of magic spell on me. I was going cuckoo! I was flustered!! Ahh!!

I needed to go for a jog around the oval or something.

Anyway, deep breaths…

*Beep Beep*. I received a text from my best friend.

“His team number is number 19!!!!! And he’s going out to the local pub tonight, are you keen?”

Keen, KEEN? By jumping around like a fan girl all excitedly I guess you could say I was keen.

“Why are there so many exclamation marks after she told you about his team number?” you may be wondering.

Well. And this is where it gets a bit crazy. 19 was Chris’ number. Chris was an avid motocross rider, and he was actually quite good at it. He qualified for nationals as a teenager, but broke his leg just before he made it to the race. In the next few years he went to uni and had to give up his riding, so never quite made it back to the level he once was. To this day I believe it was his biggest regret.

19 was the number of his first bike. Subsequently every bike he owned after that had to have ‘19’ on it, in some shape or form. He loved to tell the story of the time he went to Vegas with his best mate and played roulette. He didn’t know the rules fully so assumed that if someone had already placed chips on a number, he couldn’t as well. Number 19 came up. Thousands of dollars were won. He went to place a bet again, still thinking he couldn’t place on Number 19. Number 19 came up. Thousands of dollars were won. Third round of betting. Number 19 was free! “But surely it won’t come up again after falling there twice already.” He placed a bet on a different number… I’m sure you can guess how this ended. Number 19 came up. Thousands of dollars were won… Just not by Chris. I mean bloody hell. Even our puppy was born on the 19th of March. Chris thought that was a good omen.

Number 19 was his number.

So this guy, that I was feeling fireworks about, him being number 19 was a big deal (even though part of me also feels it was just a massive coincidence).

I got ready at my mates house. To be honest, neither of us had much hope that’d we’d actually see him at the pub, but we were joking around and having a laugh about what our ‘strategies’ would be anyway.

We walked up the stairs AND OH MY GOD HOLY SHIT HE’S HERE WHAT AM I GOING TO DO I CAN’T LOOK AT HIM I DEFINITELY HAVE NOT HAD ENOUGH TO DRINK TO MAKE ME SEEM COOL AND SUAVE IN THIS SITUATION, WHAT THE HELL AM I TALKING ABOUT I’M NEVER COOL OR SUAVE ANYWAY AND OH MY GOD HE IS HERE!!!

We sat down. We said hello. I got a drink.

Ahh, that’s better. I’m not so nervous now I can actually form words.

Awww. He was lovelllyyyy. Our conversation flowed. As we drank more.. We got more confident. He bought me a drink. I bought him a drink. He showed me a picture in just his underpants (HOLY JESUS GOOD LORD), he told me that he lives just around the corner from the uni I am going to be at next year, he laughed at my jokes, I laughed at his, he told me I should come down and watch him train at the campus, he told me he had a girlfriend… Wait WHA?!

Fricken dammit. But probably not unexpected. He was smart, funny, could hold a conversation and was good looking. Very very good looking. (PS I feel like I should put in a disclaimer here about why he showed us a picture of him just in his undies even though he had a girlfriend. His mate who he was with thought he was single and was applying the pressure for him to take his shirt off – I wasn’t complaining! We got drunker. I think my other best mate was about to rip his shirt off by the end of the night. It was a happy, 1 second of glory, compromise)

Anyway. He told me to add him on instagram. I did. He followed me back. I stalked him on facebook and drunkenly messaged him. He accepted my friendship request after a day.

I understand my chances of actually getting with this guy is mmmmmm…. 0.5% (on the off chance he does break up with his girlfriend and I do happen to bump into him at uni next year).

BUT! I don’t even care. I am so excited. I honest to God thought I would never feel like this about a person ever again. The last time I felt like this, was when I met Chris… 4 years ago now. I honestly thought I was never going to get that OHMAGAWD feeling about a person ever again.

So thank you Olympian man. Thank you for being so sweet and kind and for not rejecting me straight out. Thank you for making me feel my heart beat again. Thank you for making me realise I am not broken, and I have the potential to love once more.

And thank you for making me feel something other than sadness for what I have lost.

Hopefully I’ll see you around campus… Got any hot mates WITHOUT a girlfriend you can hook me up with??

Till next time 🙂

xxxx

Luck

I am screwed. I am totally and utterly, incomprehensibly screwed.

Chris was a catch. The most almighty catch I had ever had in my life. He was muscly, he was tanned, he had the most beautiful clear green eyes and thick luscious hair and when his eyes caught mine the first time we met, he strode confidently across the room to tell me, “You have a very pretty face.” The girls who had been fighting for his attention all night and I almost fell over in shock.

Now I’m not saying I’m overly hideous, and to be honest I probably do have some endearing qualities, so it’s not COMPLETELY crazy that he came to speak to me, but still… I couldn’t quite believe that he had chosen me.

Annoyingly, his amazing qualities didn’t stop there. He was intelligent. He was funny. He was incredible with his hands and could fix or build anything. Seriously, it was not a rarity for literal strangers that we had met for the first time together as a couple to turn to me and say, “Oh my god, you are soooooooo lucky!” It was such a common comment that it became a running joke for him to do something gross like fart on me, or accidentally break something, and he would turn to me with a cheeky grin on his face and tease, “Wow… You are sooooooo lucky!!”

He looked like freaking Ryan Gosling for god’s sake! (Which, by the way, he hated being compared to.)

But I was lucky. And I knew it.

Fast forward 11 months after the accident, many, many, many, MANY (times infinity) tears later, and I’m really feeling the loneliness.

I haven’t even kissed another human on the lips since the day before he died.

It’s quite a bizarre feeling to be totally and utterly in love with someone, but actively searching to hook up with someone else.

Cue last night where a quiet cocktail housewarming party turned into a tequila, vodka, peach schnapps, champagne fuelled rave. TONIGHT WAS GOING TO BE THE NIGHT!!!

I was going to break that drought, because, “It’s not like it’s going to mean anything anyway.” So I chose to do it at the dodgiest (and only) club in town.

First I had to find my prey. “Mmm, no he’s not attractive enough. Mmm.. He’s a bit sweaty. Hmm… WHAT is going on with that guy’s HAIR?” Ok. So none of these guys were gonna be a Christopher but they were going to have to do.

I started my “sexy” “woops, I accidently bumped into you” dancing, and realised I have the confidence of a gnat whilst doing this. Now, I don’t know how confident a gnat is, but I’m assuming not very. And awkward. Very, very awkward.

Unsurprisingly, none of the guys were confidently striding across the room to give me a compliment. One of them even kind of pushed me out of the way!

This was fucked.

I went and sat down on the dingy, alcohol soaked couch in the dark corner and started drunkenly reflecting my night.

I was competing against girls and getting rejected by guys that don’t even have an inch on Chris. How did my life end up like this?

Oh no. I was beginning to get my drunk cry on. Time to leave!!

After an hour of hysterical sobbing at home I passed out, and today I’ve been left with a killer hangover and lovely, puffy eyes to match.

So can you see why I am screwed?? The Bachelor plan is really starting to make sense now isn’t it!?

I don’t want this life. I don’t enjoy this life.

I just want Chris to be back, farting on me and joking how lucky I am, while seeing in his eyes that actually, he thought he was really lucky too.

I HAVE A MASTER PLAN!!

I am going to go on The Bachelor.

If you have no idea what The Bachelor is, go here: Rosie Recaps

And if you can’t be bothered going there, just continue reading…

The Bachelor is a reality TV program where 20 girls battle for the love of a man which is represented in the way of receiving a rose. No rose? Then adios amigos!!

Now now.. . I hear you wondering, “Why would a broken woman 25 years of age who only lost her partner just under a year ago want to go on such a thing?!”

Well hear me out.

Here is my list of why I should go on The Bachelor 2016:

Reason Number 1: You are forced to go slow. No jumping in bed with some random hottie after 25 drinks which makes you think, “YES THIS IS DEFINITELY THE RIGHT TIME FOR ME TO TRY AND MOVE ON!!” Resulting in the morning after regrets.

Reason Number 2: He has to be nice to you after you drop the W (widow) bomb. If he’s not, the nation would just deem him an asshole.

Reason Number 3: You are subtlety revealing to a wider audience your background story, resulting in a lesser chance of having to reveal the W bomb to suitors in the future (what IS the widow etiquette here? Date 1, Date 2, Date 3? Anyone? Anyone??). Admittedly there is a slight flaw in the plan at this point as the likelihood of the audience being single, heterosexual males is quite limited.

Reason Number 4: You get to dress up and look hot in sparkly dresses while drinking copious amounts of alcohol, DUUUHH.

So as you can see this plan is ingenious and is MUCH better than my Options A, B, and C that I wrote about here:

In our year of living together in Australia, Chris and I would watch a renovation reality show called The Block religiously. Chris was super duper talented at building things out of wood and my eye was quite adept at styling. We made a pretty incredible team (and a beautiful house) and just to put the cherry on top he was a major hotty to boot! I thought we would be a shoe in for sure!!

Chris said no.

I can just see him shaking his head, showing his amusement with a slight grin on his face at my master plans right now…

Jeez, I’d better get on with practicing those head and body photo shoots needed for the application!!

DISCLAIMER: This post may or may not have been written with tongue firmly in cheek…

Maybe.

Where’s Home?

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When you discover the horrific news that your partner has been killed you find it very hard to imagine that someone so full of life, someone so healthy and happy just cannot come back.

I’d spent a lot of my relationship missing Chris, separated on opposite sides of the world, bogged down by paperwork and money, waiting for visas to be approved and taking full advantage of my holiday to Europe I had been planning for the last 5 years by taking small fortnightly trips to far flung countries.

All the while missing Chris.

In fact although I enjoyed my trips around Europe, my favourite part of the holiday was boarding the plane with the full knowledge I’d be seeing his handsome face again in a couple of hours.

The butterflies would start in my stomach as we began to land, my steps becoming more rapid until I was stalled by customs. Moving as quick as I could through the gates, bursting through with my bulky, unsteerable bag.

And there he would be.

Hands in pockets, head down, until he would look up and smile and his eyes would lock with mine. I would feel my face crack into a giant grin.

“Hello,” he’d say in his soft, always polite English voice, “How you going?”

My too-heavy bag would be easily lifted with his strong hands, both the size of dinner plates, and I would be whole again. Protected, and where I was meant to be. With Chris by my side.

… So I’m used to this constant ache. This constant need to see the person you love, but being made to wait.

But I’d always see him again.

What now?

It reminds me of a quote from the Sad Book by Michael Rosen, “I loved him very, very much, but he died anyway.”

I miss him very, very much… But he’s not coming back.

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