Moving On – Option 5

Moving On

Super-Secret Stalker


There is no denying that at some point in our lives, we’ve all had a little snoop on an ex. Maybe he popped up on your ‘People you may know’ list on Facebook. Perhaps someone you know tagged him in a photo on Instagram, or maybe, just maybe, you sought him out on your own accord. Hey, I’m not judging.


I have definitely taken this to an extreme at least once in my life. When that mean, smelly, man disappeared and left me without so much as a toodle-pip, I took to the internet to track him down and get that closure I was so desperate for.


In my heart, he’d just moved, but in my head I knew there was something more to it. I looked for him on Facebook – nothing, I looked for his family on Facebook and found one of them. I studied her profile, friends list and photos trying to determine what was going on, to no avail.


I tried Twitter – no tweets for the last 8 months. I searched high and low for him on Instagram and found diddly squat. He had literally fallen off the face of the online world.


I remembered him talking about a friend, a woman, with whom he went to school with and bumping into her a few months earlier, so I started my search again, for her.


Ding, ding, ding, we have a winner.


However, I may have found what I was looking for, but nothing could have prepared me for what I saw. That horrible, horrible man had been in a relationship with this woman for the last 10 months of our relationship.


I thought I was a good secret agent, but this guy takes the cake with his double life.


Long story short, her Facebook listed her employer and was very tempted to send her a letter warning her about her boyfriend’s loose morals. I didn’t, and a small part of me will always regret that but I took the high road and forced myself to move on and get over it.


Just call me Nancy Drew. I’ll be off to complete my spy school application.




Nicole x


Moving on – Option 4

Moving On



Definitely the unhealthiest option, but I’m being brutally honest. When things ended with a long term boyfriend, I coupled this option with crying and became the world’s drunkest baby.


I’d get in from work, walk straight to the fridge and pour myself a nice cold glass of memory eraser wine. I’d then get in my PJs, swipe the wine glass and bottle from the kitchen and sit in the lounge drinking until I couldn’t remember why I was drinking *Disclaimer, this not the best way to deal and definitely not advisable, I’m just sharing what I have done in the past*.


I’m pretty sure at certain points I ditched the wine glass altogether and took to necking it straight from the bottle. Classy, I know. That part hasn’t changed, I’m still just as classy now.


It helped for a little while, but waking up the next morning certainly wasn’t my friend. Sobering up meant that the negative thoughts could find their way back in, couple that with a killer wine hangover and you’ve got yourself a crisis.


In November 2014 I decided to stop drinking during the week. It was making me more miserable having to deal with everything with a pounding head and alcohol tummy.


I then actually took a few months off of alcohol all together and really started to feel much healthier.


I learned from that mistake, no one is going to drive me to a place where I feel that alcohol is the only answer ever again.


When and if I have a drink it’s because I want one, not because I need one!



Nicole x

Moving on – Option 3

Moving On

‘Filling the Gap’ as my mum calls it.


I never used to believe that I could be on my own. I’d relied on a man to give me purpose and had no idea how to make it alone.


When I got up the courage to leave my boyfriend of 2.5 years, I sat him down, told him I wasn’t happy and that was that. Or so I thought, I got home and panic set in, I was alone. I had no one (well looking back now, I know I had family and friends, but like I said I was a drama queen in my earlier years). We split up at 7pm, and by 11pm I was on the phone to him, begging for forgiveness.


He granted me the forgiveness I was so desperate for and we carried on as if nothing had ever happened. For 3 whole months. I should have realised that the thing that was making me unhappy wasn’t going to change. I hated myself for prolonging the inevitable break up, but I couldn’t face the world alone.


When I finally grew a pair and left him, it was a full 72 hours before I started dating someone else. Who turned out to be a huge mistake, but hey ho, you live and you learn.


That next relationship solidified my fear that I couldn’t cope on my own. He tore me down bit by bit, making me completely dependent on him. So when he did his first disappearing act, I jumped straight on tinder and POF to find someone to maintain my taken relationship status. When my ‘boyfriend’ (very loose term) reappeared I didn’t question anything and just slipped back into the abusive mundane relationship. But as far as I was concerned, all was right in the world because I was part of a couple.


This disappearing, reappearing pattern continued for a year before he left for good.


I literally trawled the internet, looking for anyone to step into his place to stop me being alone. Which initially is how this blog started, I was so desperate to find a partner that I practically dated anything that asked.


All that has changed now; I’m rather selective with who I date, some might say that’s a bad thing, that beggars can’t be choosers, but you know what, I’ll be as picky as I damn well please and the lucky bloke that earns himself the status of my Boyfriend should thank his lucky stars!


I’m definitely not that big headed, whoever I enter a committed relationship with will be just as lucky to have me, as I am to have him.







Moving On – Part 2

Moving On


angry emoji

It has been said once or twice, ok perhaps a fair few more times than that, that I may have a slight tendency to fly off the handle every now and again (or at every opportunity, but who’s counting!)


It may be true, but a skill I have learned over the last few years is how to internalise that anger and direct it into something more productive. The same cannot be said for a younger, more inexperienced me.


Following on from crying myself to sleep, I found myself getting more and more angry. Why did I let someone have such an effect on me? How dare he take sleep and my social life from me after he’d already taken so much?


I remember sitting in those day PJs looking at the sunshine thinking to myself, ‘why am I not outside enjoying this absolutely splendid weather.’ because I clearly stepped straight out of a Julie Andrews film. Cue cartoon birds and penguins singing and dancing around me.


It’s incredible how anger festers if you don’t know how to release it properly. Something as simple as not having any shreddies in the cupboard could send me into major meltdown (sorry mum!) I directed my anger in every possible direction, out of shear frustration at not being able to direct it at the one person I believed caused all my suffering. (I was a tad dramatic in my younger days)


The worst tantrum I threw was on my 22nd birthday. I had been in a relationship with this guy for 2 years (yes the same one from the crying blog – what can I say he really got under my skin!) and the week before my birthday, he vanished, he’d left me. I was distraught enough about this, and then not even a phone call on my birthday, that really got to me. However, that wasn’t the worst of it, while I was having a lovely relaxing birthday bath, he came to my house, didn’t knock at the door, and left roses on the door step.


Upon seeing those roses, realising what had happened, I lost it. I vividly remember smashing the flowers against every surface I could find in the kitchen, petals flying everywhere, effing and blinding, because I’m a lady like that. Never in my life have I destroyed anything to that extent. I woke my parents, my mum had to prise the mangled rose stems out of my hand (thorns and all) my dad had to restrain me because at this point, having been relieved of my flowery bouquet of hate, I had turned my attention to anything I could get my hands on to. I’m pretty sure a loaf of bread went flying across the room at some point. It was like I had regressed back into a 5 year old being told she can’t have an ice cream from the ice cream man and kicking up a real stink about it. (That’s why I love being an adult, I get to regulate my own ice cream intake.)


That one took a while to cool down from. I had so much hate in my body I scared myself. That’s when I started hitting the gym hard, not only did it put my anger to good use, it also kept me busy, too busy to think about that smelly boy and all his nastiness.


Releasing anger is healthy, but there are definitely right and wrong ways to do it. Learn more about redirecting anger here.


Moving on Part Three out next Tuesday at 9am.







Moving on – Option 1

Moving On




We’re all humans, we all cry at something, whether it be a sad film or in empathy for a friend, or in my case the end of an abusive 2 year relationship.


I dated this guy for 2 years, and I have never known someone change as much as he did in those 2 years.


He started off loving and caring, and made me feel special, he gradually turned in to a manipulative monster hell bent on destroying my self-esteem, and you know what, he succeeded.


How someone could go from flowers and hand holding to venom and punches, I do not know.


I remember him saying to me, ‘If you want to leave, leave, but good luck finding someone else who’ll put up with your rubbish.’ I was mortified. I actually believed him that he was the only one who would put up with me. I thought I was some sort of monster.


I found myself making excuses for his harsh words or hands, but at the same time I found myself crying every day.


Eventually he left me, that’s right, he left me, I want nothing more than to say I kicked his sorry butt to the curb, but that’s just not true. I was devastated, still believing he was my only chance at happily ever after. I sobbed and sobbed for days, even weeks. I was inconsolable, I genuinely thought I was going to die alone.


I remember willing the working week to end, so I could hideaway at home from 6pm on Friday nights to 7am Monday mornings. I would go to bed on Friday night in one set of PJs, wake up Saturday morning, change into another set of PJs and spend the day on the sofa/in bed watching TV and crying whilst spooning a box of tissues. I would then drag myself into the shower (I’m not a total tramp) wash off the day’s misery put night time PJs on, cry myself to sleep, and repeat again the next day. I’m pretty sure I spent a good few weeks dehydrated because I definitely did not drink enough water to replace the amount I lost through tears. Gosh this is sounding incredibly dark and depressing – fear not, I’m all good now, the only thing to bring tears to my eyes are those sad adopt a dog adverts on the TV – and let me tell you I really let loose, I sob to my little hearts content and I look damn fabulous while doing it. Ok that might be a lie, but you show me anyone that can rock the puffy eyed, snotty, sobbing look.


I’d stand in the shower and belt out a rather sorry sounding rendition of Dolly Parton’s Jolene, changing the name and trying desperately to fit a 3 syllable name into a 2 syllable slot, then crying some more when I couldn’t.


Gradually, the tears were replaced by anger and temper tantrums, that story is to follow.


It took a while, but I learned that I didn’t have to depend on him. I was crying because I had lost him, but so often I had cried because he had me. He had me trapped in a web of negativity and hurt. If I could survive that, being without him would be a doddle.


I sincerely hope that nosey piece of poop is reading this… Look at me now, bitch. 😉

Moving on Part Two out next Tuesday at 9am






How to Move on

Moving On

How I’ve transitioned from Tears to Cheers

Everyone has had a bad experience in the demise of a relationship, and if you haven’t … it’s probably coming, or you’re the luckiest son of a gun on this planet. 😉


The way you feel or the way the breakup affects you is completely individual to you. No one can tell you it’s not that bad.


I’ve definitely had my fair share of rubbish when it comes to relationships, and that just speaks volumes for the men I attract I guess. I’ve been thinking a lot recently about how broken and low I felt when I’ve come out of relationships and how I never thought I would feel normal again, well that just wasn’t true at all now, was it. I mean look at me, I’m happier than ever and I’m actually getting to the point where I am grateful for those awful relationships for showing me exactly what I don’t want. It’s all a learning curve.


I’ve tried all methods of moving on;


  1. Crying day and night, not leaving the safety of my house and mentally naming all of my future cats.
  2. Throwing mega tantrums at any given opportunity – I’m literally a professional tantrum thrower and can summon a hissy fit from outta nowhere.
  3. Jumping on the next man I find. By this I mean moving from one relationship to another in the blink of an eye, no matter how dysfunctional he is.
  4. Drink. Drink to forget, drink to commiserate, drink to numb the pain, just drink.
  5. Changing professions to super-secret stalker. I’m not too proud of this one, even though it did confirm that I could definitely apply for a job at MI6 with those skills! That is if they’d accept ‘finding out where that cheating scumbag disappeared to after he just upped and left without so much as a damn goodbye.’
  6. Analysing every inch of my body, listing everything that is wrong with me. (I actually found one of these lists over the weekend, so stay tuned for a whole post dedicated to this point!)
  7. Paying through the nose for a professional to help me ‘work through’ those feelings of anxiety and inadequacy.
  8. Telling myself that I am a ‘Strong, Independent, White Woman, who doesn’t need a relationship to define her.’ Cue sassy finger snap.
  9. Forcing myself to go out and do things for me, anything from going for a coffee with a friend, to booking that spa break with my sister and mum.
  10. Just living. Waking up each day and getting on with my life, putting on a brave face and telling myself and everyone else that I’m ok, and pretty soon I wasn’t having to lie anymore. You know what they say, fake it til you make it, and that’s 100% what I did.


Now, I’m no expert, in fact my failings in the romance department set me at a status so far from expert its comical, but I think that sharing our own ways of dealing with breakups/end of relationships not only tells people in a roundabout way that eventually, no matter how long it takes, you will pull through the other side, it also lets people know that they are not alone with how they deal with things and if it works for you, that’s great, if it doesn’t, there are so many other people going through similar experiences, you’re not alone in how you feel.


To follow; blog posts on an experience of each of the above methods of moving on every Tuesday morning. There are some real goodun’s on the way lovelies!