Up early again.

Can't sleep, don't want to wake R up before I have to - he's due in the gym at 7 and then is on a course.

So I thought I'd come down here, mark a few books, blog a bit, and now I'm sat here, and there's nothing through my brain!

Writers block? Hardly. Writers block should be something that lasts ages, that involves angst and wailing and gnashing of teeth. This is a temporary hiatus in the artistic flow. LOL

Are blogs artistic though? Could I count this as writing? I mean, all that really happens is that my brain vomits onto the screen via my keyboard. There is very little censorship or thought involved. What is in my head comes out onto the page, which is the way I've always written. It's useful for story writing, and I love it for poetry, both of which I am sometimes bad at and sometimes reasonably good at.

In fact, I haven't written a story for a long time, but I write poetry fairly often. I wrote a lot when I was breaking up with Ex1. I wrote some when I was breaking up with Ex2. These days I do things because I'm happy, not because I'm breaking up with someone lol!

Speaking of Ex2, I found a letter the other day, written by me, in 2000, to Ex2. It was quite a nice letter, written on the train on the way to see him, and I had meant to leave it at his for him. It reminded me of how it was all supposed to be, and it made me feel sad that it wasn't like that in the end. Not at all because I would rather be with him than R, not *at* all! They are like night and day, physically, mentally, emotionally, and I love R, more than I ever thought possible to love anyone or anything. I meant in the way that it makes me feel sad when I think about the end of Ex1 and I. And again, I loved Ex1. He made me feel odd when he walked in, I couldn't find the right words to say to him, I was classically, and tragically, in love with him. In many ways, R is an older, settled down version, and last I heard from Ex1, he was following the same belief pattern, had a similar life pattern and was doing really well.

It's more a sadness, a grief, for what should have been. Ex1 and I were Uni sweethearts, we were devoted to one another, and, had his mother not got involved in the way that she did, I think things would have gone differently. We should have had a lovely family, worked our way up the property ladder, loved in suburbia and so on.

Ex2 and I should have been two wounded souls finding each other on the net, working things out together and raising our son together.

Instead, R and I are indeed like the phoenix, rising once again from the ashes of destroyed relationships, trying to put them aside and move on, to build our own lives and loves.

Other peoples actions - Ex1's alcholism, my inability to cope with that, his mothers inability to let him hit rock bottom, Ex2's alcoholism, depression, online infidelity, potential real life infidelity, and emotional bullying, have robbed me, as they have robbed others, of myself for several years, of the joy that is a long and happy marriage, of raising children in a blood family, and have added complications of phonecalls to people that don't want to talk to us, pain, mistrust, and so on. Not to mention the effect on the children, and the pain and trauma, often unrecognised, that they go through. There is a knock on effect on Grandparents, who don't want to see their child go through this trauma, who have reduced or non-existent time with the child.

In fact, the scars of divorce go deeper than might first be thought.

Positively speaking though, it is a joy to see what there is in this house now. And none of it would be there without what we have gone through, physically, and emotionally.