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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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#olympian

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!

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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

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