I've been a bad Phoenix of late. Very bad. I haven't posted anything in bloody ages; I've been too busy with work and I find it quite hard editing this blog on my iPhone. I've been writing every day, o and from London on the commute, but not got round to posting my musings.
I've also slipped a few times. I have been playing with myself a bit. I could use the excuse that it helps me get to sleep, which is the truth, but it's naughty when considering the objective of this exercise. I was supposed to be teaching myself how to live without any sexual / romantic / intimate contact at all, but maybe that is more difficult than I imagined. At the very least, I didn't realise how much I used sex as a de-stressor. But is that such a bad thing?
So the next few posts are of the last month and my thoughts. Reading them back as I post them up here, I am quite surprised by how up and down they are. I suppose that is natural. After a breakup your feelings for your ex invariably fluctuate. If any of these posts may strike you, dear reader, as bitter and self-indulgent, please remember they are not. I am not bitter. I'm just a few months on from what was esentially a divorce. And I am scared to love again. But then an advantage to that is, I have my life back and I am no longer someone's middle aged frumpy housewife.
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