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Abstract

act, he’s getting married soon; and I wish him well. I essentially, in many ways, live the single parent dream as I don’t really get any of the drama, anymore.What morbid pleasure is it that makes us torture ourselves with revisiting the past? I could have easily not read the messages, I just couldn’t help myself.It stops there though, I didn’t go profile searching or any of that other wildly masochistic work; we blocked each other many moons ago. I just don’t take any pleasure, or otherwise, from checking on profiles of people that are no longer in my life; a sentiment I can’t say for sure, is the same the other way round.Reading the messages and seeing this rubbish flirtation; this two-way red flag of a conversation, well, it’s just a little embarrassing more than anything.I had a single pregnancy into single motherhood and put in short, he wasn’t very nice to me.Knowing myself as well as I do, having a single pregnancy and raising my girl alone thus far was the only way it was going to work for me. It’s only in having my little girl that I started to heal the wounds that had prevented me from meeting and being with boyfriends that were good for me.That’s exciting in itself, knowing that’s all still to come.I’d refused to really date until I’d figured myself out a bit and given myself time to adjust to new motherhood; especially in having become estranged from my remaining family who had emotionally abandoned and abused me when I needed them in postpartum depression. Dating had been the last thing on my mind.</

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p>I lost both of my parents before having my little girl; both to alcohol. Becoming a mother had opened up a box of grief I hadn’t processed yet, and also the pain that my little girl wouldn’t get to meet her grandparents who would’ve absolutely adored her.They hadn’t exactly been the shining example of what a loving relationship is supposed to be like, which was sad all round, of course, what hurts the most is that they aren’t around.I’m not going to be corny and say that infuriating line ‘everything happens for a reason’, but I do believe that life shapes us and directs us in a certain way in relation to how we move after our hurts.Some people watch too many films. Some holding designs of a fairytale ending where my daughter's dad and I would find our way back, and be a family.Oops, I laughed when I typed that.I’m so glad we happened. I’m also so glad we didn’t happen.Lucky to not be love-jaded, my track record and some of the stories I could tell leave me every right to be. I love to learn and grow, pinning my hopes on doing a good job of this healing jazz, so that my daughter can go on to have healthy relationships.I don’t think it’s a bad thing to revisit old messages, as long as you’re doing it from the place of being your own life’s spectator. If anything, tonight’s visit only served to show me how far I’ve come and how well I’m doing.I’m not going to lie, it did give me the heebie-jeebies, so I won’t make a habit of it. I think I’ll stay present from now on, thank you.</article></body>

It’s Like Revisiting The Scene Of The Crime

The lockdown must be going to my head

Lockdown activities left me swiping on Tinder, stumbling across a fake profile, using pictures of a guy I once knew from my competing days in bikini figure competitions… he didn’t do bikini, just in case you wondered.

I properly fancied this guy; but when I actually met him, I found out that I didn’t really. Not that he wasn’t attractive, there just wasn’t that spark.

Whoah Amanda, blow us away with an amazing story… Sorry.

Anyway, it doesn't matter, this story isn’t about him anyway. I couldn’t find our messages, but in scrolling through my Instagram DMs, what I did find was the messages between myself and my little girl’s dad that preceded the night I became pregnant. It felt like revisiting the scene of the crime.

A mix of emotions, in that I can’t un-wish that night, or anything that went on between us; or him. If I did, it would be like the Butterfly Effect — no him and I wouldn’t have been granted the greatest gift of my life.

We don’t talk. Unless we absolutely have to, in fact, he’s getting married soon; and I wish him well. I essentially, in many ways, live the single parent dream as I don’t really get any of the drama, anymore.

What morbid pleasure is it that makes us torture ourselves with revisiting the past? I could have easily not read the messages, I just couldn’t help myself.

It stops there though, I didn’t go profile searching or any of that other wildly masochistic work; we blocked each other many moons ago. I just don’t take any pleasure, or otherwise, from checking on profiles of people that are no longer in my life; a sentiment I can’t say for sure, is the same the other way round.

Reading the messages and seeing this rubbish flirtation; this two-way red flag of a conversation, well, it’s just a little embarrassing more than anything.

I had a single pregnancy into single motherhood and put in short, he wasn’t very nice to me.

Knowing myself as well as I do, having a single pregnancy and raising my girl alone thus far was the only way it was going to work for me. It’s only in having my little girl that I started to heal the wounds that had prevented me from meeting and being with boyfriends that were good for me.

That’s exciting in itself, knowing that’s all still to come.

I’d refused to really date until I’d figured myself out a bit and given myself time to adjust to new motherhood; especially in having become estranged from my remaining family who had emotionally abandoned and abused me when I needed them in postpartum depression. Dating had been the last thing on my mind.

I lost both of my parents before having my little girl; both to alcohol. Becoming a mother had opened up a box of grief I hadn’t processed yet, and also the pain that my little girl wouldn’t get to meet her grandparents who would’ve absolutely adored her.

They hadn’t exactly been the shining example of what a loving relationship is supposed to be like, which was sad all round, of course, what hurts the most is that they aren’t around.

I’m not going to be corny and say that infuriating line ‘everything happens for a reason’, but I do believe that life shapes us and directs us in a certain way in relation to how we move after our hurts.

Some people watch too many films. Some holding designs of a fairytale ending where my daughter's dad and I would find our way back, and be a family.

Oops, I laughed when I typed that.

I’m so glad we happened. I’m also so glad we didn’t happen.

Lucky to not be love-jaded, my track record and some of the stories I could tell leave me every right to be. I love to learn and grow, pinning my hopes on doing a good job of this healing jazz, so that my daughter can go on to have healthy relationships.

I don’t think it’s a bad thing to revisit old messages, as long as you’re doing it from the place of being your own life’s spectator. If anything, tonight’s visit only served to show me how far I’ve come and how well I’m doing.

I’m not going to lie, it did give me the heebie-jeebies, so I won’t make a habit of it. I think I’ll stay present from now on, thank you.