Planetary Alignment

Do you ever wonder why things happen the way they do? 

It's a question that I have thought about so many times in the last year.  From pondering how my husband and I ever got together to thinking about the way my career has taken some strange turns in the past few years.

I've learned that the odd mishaps are often blessings in disguise.  A few years ago, my redundancy from a well-paid but dead-end job was the catalyst for getting out of the backseat and taking control of my career.  And even the lack of promotion this spring was a reason to stop doing the same type of work that I had been doing for years and really challenge myself to do something different.  If neither of these bad situations had occurred, I am not sure I ever would have pushed myself to make such significant changes on my own.

 But I can't say that I had that positive spirit at the time that the proverbial rug had been pulled out from under me.  Quite the opposite, actually.   I think I can safely say that I have done my fair share of sulking and had a few tantrums too.  As I know that I tend to be quite emotional about things, I have always tried to keep my meltdowns to myself, hiding how I feel so that no one sees me at my worst.

So it is no surprise that I severed all contact with Damien in the days that followed the promotion announcements.  I knew that any kind of communication with him was going to open the floodgates and I didn't want that to happen.  I sent him a simple email congratulating him on his success and said nothing more.  And he didn't say anything either.

But then he started asking questions about the project and wondering how I was doing.  I would always answer the former but dodged the latter with a simple 'everything is great'.  Whenever possible, I would refer his queries on to someone else in the team so that I didn't have to face him.

At first, it was a conscious decision to avoid him but as things progressed on the job front, I simply didn't have time to think about him.  I was so busy forging ahead in a new direction that I didn't dare look back at the job I was leaving behind.  It was still too raw and painful so I simply put on blinders and kept thinking about the future.

And that's usually around the time that life throws me a curve ball.  If I try to avoid dealing with things and keep my focus elsewhere, I can almost guarantee that it will all explode in my face at some point.  I wish life weren't like that but it has happened so often now that I really can't help but laugh.

So it shouldn't have surprised me that when things were finally looking positive on the job front again that my personal life would hit a speed bump the size of Mt. Everest.  I was only two weeks away from starting the new job and I was really excited about it.  Plus the fact that I was leaving the team had stirred up some interest from senior management who were suddenly concerned with who would fill my shoes.  Back in February, no one knew who I was (or cared!) but now suddenly everyone was talking about me and how much I had contributed to the project.  After feeling like dog dirt for so many months, it felt good to hear people singing my praises. 

And that is when it happened.  A simple message 'hello' across the internal chat system from Damien. I debated whether I should even respond, tempted to just ignore him and hope that he would go away, but for some reason Miss Manners must have telepathically entered my head, prompting my fingers to type 'hello' back. 

He then broke the news that he had resigned.  I was cool about it and congratulated him on his new job, wishing him well.  It felt strange but I didn't know what else to say.  So much had happened and I didn't have the nerve to say anything more.  So I didn't.

On the train home that evening, I felt a bit lost just like I had on the night that the promotion list had been published without my name on it.  It was as if I was standing there watching everything change but feeling completely unable to do anything about it. Damien was leaving and I would probably never see him again.  The words kept circling around in my brain and I could not tell which hurt more - my head or my heart.

When I got home I was jolted back into reality by the responsibilities of being a parent, I forgot about Damien and got on with dinner, homework, baths and bedtime.  Just before I was about to head off to bed myself, I switched on the computer and decided to check my emails.  A note from an old colleague lept out at me from the screen immediately.

Dear Cate, 

I am so sorry to tell you that Angela passed away last night...

I didn't read any further.  I didn't want to believe that it could possibly be true, but I knew that it was.  Overwhelmed with sadness, I switched off my computer, climbed into bed and cried.


The next day I sent Damien a message asking him if we could have one more cup of tea before he left.

Cate xxx

Wings

There is a number on my phone that doesn't really belong there anymore.  Every so often, I will scroll through the list of contacts looking for someone and I will stumble upon it and think to myself, "I should delete that".

But I can't.

The number belongs to Angela.  Or I should say 'belonged'.  There is a chance that if I called the number, someone might answer, but it won't be Angela.  Maybe it would be someone who knew her or maybe the giants of the telecomms companies would have efficiently reassigned her number to a new customer - perhaps a teenager who would never want to hear the likes of me and how I just wish I could hear Angela's voice one more time.

Angela died a few months ago.  It shouldn't have surprised me.  She had been fighting cancer for quite some time and there was always a chance that she would become too sick to keep fighting.   But I never wanted think that way.   The last time I saw her she was standing in my kitchen, drinking a cup of tea with me and talking about how we must go out for lunch when she was feeling a bit stronger.  I just assumed I would soon get a text message from her telling me to meet her at her favourite pub. 

Instead I got an email from a mutual friend telling me that she had passed away.  Our lunch date was


Like so many others, I feel cheated.  Where my father-in-law has been expecting to die and doing almost nothing with his life for the last twenty years, Angela refused to believe that her time was up.  She loved too many people and still had so much that she wanted to do.  Now was not the time. At least not in her mind.


As is the case with everyone else that I write about in my blog, I change the names a little.  My parents didn't name me 'Cate' or 'Catherine', and I don't know anyone named 'Damien' in real life.  I have never met anyone named 'Titus' although I like the name so I might look to find a real Titus someday.

'Angela' was not my friend's name either.

But she was an Angel in my mind.  Not the kind with wings that fly around singing. It's a lovely thought but I think I might get annoyed if I ever had such a creature following me around.  To me, Angels are the people we meet along the way who inspire us, give us strength and keep us smiling.

Angela was far from angelic.  She smoked like a chimney and I don't think she ever considered a meal to be complete without a side of chips.  But she befriended everyone, made us all laugh and if you ever needed anything, she would be the first person to give you a helping hand.  Tales of her misspent youth in post-war London could keep us entranced for hours - she'd done things that I could only dream about and spoke as though it was just a bit of silliness, nothing more than that.  The good times were peppered with low points along the way, but she always kept a sense of humour about life and never let it get her down.  The challenges were what made her strong.


On her 60th birthday I asked her what was the best year of her life.  I was thinking back to when she was in her 20's and hoped I'd get another story about life in 60's London.  But she said 40 and I looked at her in amazement.  Times weren't particularly good back then and she was struggling to make ends meet.  I couldn't hide my confusion and she laughed and said that 40 is when she understood the things that are most important in life - children, friends and the confidence that you can handle anything that life throws at you. She was the embodiment of that.



It's been months since Angela stood in my kitchen, smiling at me and telling me how well I was doing.  I often have my doubts that I ever do anything right at all, but Angela never doubted me or the possibilities of what is to come.  She always had a kind word to say and a story to make you laugh.

What I wouldn't give to share another cup of tea with her.


Cate xxx

Playground Lessons

I’ve spent much of my life being a bit of a nerd, and sometimes an annoying one at that.  When I was young, if my head wasn’t buried in a book then I was probably minding everyone else’s business and reminding them that if they just studied a bit more and followed the rules then they would do better in school.  Not exactly the best way to make yourself popular.

I didn’t really care, or at least I didn’t think I did.  I was the star-student, the teacher’s pet who could do no wrong.  But that was my error.  Where my teacher’s thought I was wonderful (or at least I think I they did), my fellow classmates had definitely had enough of me.

And that’s where Lauren Strelberg comes into the picture.  I hardly knew her, but she knew me.  I was the one who kept getting perfect grades when she was struggling through every class.  I wasn’t aware that this mattered to her until one lunch break when she had decided she wanted to set things straight. 

I can’t remember her approaching me in the schoolyard or even what she said.  I think it had something to do with the results of a test, and I am guessing she didn’t do particularly well because the part I do remember is her punching me in the stomach.  And then there was shouting – not just from Lauren but every other girl in the class seemed to have joined in. 

I was stunned.  And scared.   Nothing in my mountain of textbooks had prepared me for this and I had no idea what to do.  So I ran. 

I ran as fast as I could to the school office and told the school secretary that Lauren had punched me.

Fast forward thirty years to the day that the promotions list was posted on the company website and it felt very much the same way.  I’d been punched in the gut.  Again.

But this time there was no school office to run to.  No teacher who could put things right.  Plus I had learned a few things since that day when Lauren Strelberg took the wind out of my sails (and my gut).

My name wasn’t on the promotions list but I felt it should be.  I didn’t even care about Damien or any of the other names on the list and whether or not they deserved to be there.  I was angry that my name wasn’t there and I wanted to do something about it.  But what?

When I arrived home that evening I tearfully told my husband what happened.  I needed a hug.  Instead I got a pat on the back and lacklustre comment that these things happen so best just to deal with it.

Deal with it?!

My mother had said the same sort of thing when Lauren dealt her monumental blow and then proceeded to call me a chicken every day of school until we finally escaped for summer break.  I learned an important lesson that being a tattle tale on top of being a goodie-two-shoes is definitely not going to help one’s standing with the school bully.

This time around things would be different.  For starters, I had realised that the support of your peers is just as import as the quality of the work you do.  On that fateful day in the schoolyard, the rest of the class seemed to be supporting Lauren but this time my peers were supporting me.  Even senior managers were shaking their heads in disbelief.

And I learned how to fight.  Not in the physical sense or even verbally.  I didn’t take any swipes at my line-manager although the urge was overwhelming at times.  But I did make it clear that I was not happy with the situation, knowing all too well that my manager might decide to tell me to get lost and toss me out on the pavement.  But he didn’t.

Instead he told me that I was guaranteed a promotion the following year and offered to redefine my job as I wanted it to be.  It sounded positive but a little voice inside my head told me I’d gone through too much pain to settle for the same thing.  So I decided to push on and look for something more.

It took months to sort things out, but I am happy with the result.  I’m in a completely different part of the business and I’ve even wrangled a job in management (me?!).  Half the time I don’t know what I am doing and most of the time I am working my butt off, but it’s challenging and I am learning so that keeps me smiling. 

It’s been a bumpy ride to get to this point and if anyone had tried to tell me on that February evening that my lack of promotion would be the best thing that could have happened to me, I think I might have punched them. 

Actually that’s a bit untrue.  I don’t think I have ever punched anyone in my life.  But I did learn a few good lessons.  It’s important to have the support and respect of your peers (Lauren gets a nod for teaching me that one; however, I would still like to punch her).  But even more so, it is important to stand up for you.  

    

Cate xxx

Connections

Back in the days when I was having an affair, I remember reading an article that linked infidelity to divorce.  No surprise there, really.  It seems like a logical progression from wanting to fill in the gaps of a marriage that isn't quite working to seeing those gaps as a chasm that cannot be bridged.

The article went on to point out that the days of lengthy affairs are over.  Divorce has become so commonplace that much of the negative stigma surrounding it has washed away and once you have come to the conclusion that you much prefer the company of someone else, why stay married?

Of course it is not as simple as that.  Numbers say a lot but they don't say everything.  I don't doubt that most affairs lead to divorce.  Nor do I disagree with the idea that many marriages break down as a result of a third party muddying the waters.  After years of living in a daze, the attention of another can be enough to shake even the firmest foundations.

But is there another connection between affairs and divorce that isn't quite so obvious?  When you take away the affair, does the likelihood of divorce diminish? 



I am not about to step on a soapbox and begin a lecture on the perils of infidelity.  There are plenty of other blogs that do that and have done it far better than I ever could!  But my question is more along the lines of wondering if the resolve to escape from a frustrating marriage is weakened without someone else waiting in the wings.

My hypothesis comes from my own experience.  My affair ended nearly two years ago and as the communications tapered off, my determination to leave my husband seemed to fade too.  With two you children at home, I was resolute that I could make things work for a bit longer since I had nowhere to go and the Norman Rockwell images in my head of families together had me convinced that I was doing the best thing for everyone.

And so for a while, it worked.

But then life got in the way.  Life being some pretty fundamental stuff like the fact that I like living in England and my husband doesn't.  And that was just the beginning.  Even without someone on the side, I realised that sooner or later I would have to bite the bullet and tell my husband that I wasn't happy and I didn't see us growing old together.

So that is what I did.

I had hoped that he would agree with me that we are far too different to really be happy long-term and that it makes sense for us to think about separating.  But I was mistaken.  Despite the years of conflict, divorce was the last conceivable option in his mind. His philosophy was that I just needed to stop being so difficult and agree to pack up and move across the Atlantic.

In the months that have followed that initial discussion, he has tried various tactics to convince me that I am wrong in my thinking.  Sometimes he takes the harsh approach telling me that I am crazy and selfish.  But at other times he lauds me with praise and tells me that he has always valued me.  As I sit here typing away, it is easy to see that he's desperate to keep things together and will try any tactic to make that happen, but in the moment itself, it is much harder not to succumb. 

I do feel guilty.  I hate the idea of upsetting my children and even my husband, splitting apart the world that they know.  I am wise enough to know that I will never be happy with my husband but yet I still struggle to let go of the dream that I had when I walked down the aisle with him so many years ago.  I hate so much that this is happening and part of me is tempted to endure the frustration for just a little longer if it means peace for everyone else.

And there are times when I wish I had someone to wrap his arms around me and tell me it will work out fine, that whilst my husband is convinced that I am completely insane and horrid for wanting to get away, there could be someone who would be happy to tell me otherwise.  It would make it so much easier.  
 
And so I wonder if I am not alone in this state of limbo.   If there are others out there like me who want to escape but are not really sure where they are going and if it really is greener on the other side.  I know that I want 'out' of my situation, but without someone to run to, it's easy for me to be overwhelmed by the fear that getting 'out' won't make me any happier but it will hurt a lot of people.

Cate xxx

This Means War

I've been working for the same company for over two years now.  It doesn't sound like any great accomplishment when I think that I stayed at my first job for over a decade, but I can't think of any two organisations that could be more different.  My first job was a small family-run company  headquartered in a mid-western city, miles from anywhere else on the map.  Although I didn't stay at the head office for long, the same family atmosphere could still be felt far across the Atlantic.  It was a very quirky place.  We would often joke about the crazy owner of the company but deep down I think we all appreciated that his slightly eclectic and hermit-like ways meant we could write our own rules as long as we kept things in the black.

That's not to say we were lazy and didn't work hard.  It was quite the opposite.  Some days I woke up in hotel beds not sure which city I was in because I was so jet-lagged from weeks of endless travel.  But I didn't mind the crazy hours or the weeks away from home because I liked my colleagues and we were loyal to the company and to each other.  I miss that.

I now work in a company where heads roll regularly.  There seems to be a fine line between too much self-promotion and making sure you get credit for the work you do.  If you don't do enough of the latter, then you can expect to be passed over when promotions are handed out.  I learnt this my first year when I got the 'Cate, you've done a good job but not a great one.'  The disappointment was incredibly hard to swallow and so was the measly bonus.


Since then I've become to be a bit more vocal about the work I do and I am also a bit more protective of my turf.  I've learnt that those who are known for blowing their own horns are also quite often guilty of basking in the spotlight for work they haven't done.  Where I once trusted everyone and felt we were all working together towards the same goal, I've learnt to spot the rats from a mile away and keep them at bay.  It's frustrating enough that I have a demanding job but I find the political mine field is even harder to manage.

Especially when the enemy is Damien. 

When we first started working at our company, we were on the same project but our responsibilities were clearly divided.  As the months passed, our roles began to overlap each other and I found Damien taking the lead in discussions for the work I was doing.  He did it so skillfully that I would find myself utterly speechless, knowing full well that I should expose him for the fraud that he was being but not having clue as to how to do it.  I would just sit there dumb-founded and then he'd have the nerve to wink at me and say 'Isn't that right, Cate?'

I was torn.  The guy who I once thought was so great was proving to be one hell of a rat.  I had worked so hard and spent nights and weekends in the office whilst he was off doing whatever he pleased.  But that didn't stop him from taking any opportunity he could to get a bit of the spotlight.

To make matters worse, he acted like he was working just hard as I was.  Whenever I would walk out of meetings baffled by his behaviour, he would rush off to the kitchen to make tea.  Just as I was contemplating telling him what I truly thought of him, a cup of tea would magically appear with the smile that would make my frustrations subside as I would question whether he was really being devious or if I was just overtired and a bit too sensitive.

But a shuffling of the team jolted me into reality.  Damien and I were no longer sitting together and the shared cups of tea were a thing of the past.  I'd been moved to the stodgy side of the business where the old-boys network still reigned supreme.  I hated everything about it but figured if I still worked hard then things would be sure to change.  Patience and determination have always gotten me through times like these.

As I settled into my new role and Damien stayed on with our original team, our interactions became less and less.  I couldn't believe that we had once been so close but now hardly spoke.  A few times I tried emailing or chatting on the company messaging system but my words just disappeared into a black hole.   He was too busy to bother to respond.

And then it got worse.  On a cold and miserable night in February, I was just about to switch off my computer and head home when I thought I would check my email one last time before logging off.  There in my inbox was a note from senior management praising the promotion candidates for the year and congratulating them on their success.  Days earlier I had realised that I had been completely overlooked in the process - the team reorganisation meant that I would have to wait another year to be considered.  It was a tough pill to swallow but what choice did I have? 

As I read the email my heart sank.  I recognised many of the names on the list and tried to feel happy for them despite feeling so hurt and humiliated by my own disappointment.  I had work so hard and given so much of my time and yet my name wasn't there. 

But Damien's was. 
  
Cate xxx

Chemistry Lessons

Back in the days when I was having an affair, things did not always go smoothly.  Having an affair is no easy task in the first place but then I took it a step further by entangling myself with a guy who had quite a history when it comes to illicit relationships. I was so enamoured with him from the start that I had never considered how it would feel to be the girlfriend after the love of his life had moved on.  It was not an ideal situation and I did my fair share of bitching and moaning about it so will refrain from anything more along those lines.

But the point is that my blood runs green - very green.  Enough that I had an I'll-show-you moment and logged onto a website for the cheating kind in hopes of finding his replacement.  But as I wrote ages ago, it didn't quite work.  Instead I ended up in a writing class.  I am not sure I got much out of it, but at least it was a good distraction.

Plus I hadn't really written the whole story in that post.  Knowing that T would probably read it, I casually omitted a few bits.  Stuart being one of them. The very day that I had decided that my foray into on-line affairs was officially a flop, Stuart's message appeared.  I can't remember what it was that caught my attention, but something made me respond to his note when quite a few others had failed to get me to read beyond the first sentence.

Stuart is everything that I thought I wanted in a man.  He's got the private school pedigree, the big house in the poshest of London suburbs and even a wife who was once Miss England (not sure I really cared about that but he seemed intent on letting me know it more than once).  Years of working in the City means he knows the ins and outs of London and can charm his way into just about anywhere.  All around, he's a very impressive guy.

And yet he just didn't do it for me.

On our first date, I told myself that I would warm to him if I just gave him another try.  So I met him again and even a third time, but not once could I bear the thought of kissing him - and going to bed with him was completely out of the question.

Fortunately, that expensive education had taught him to be a gentleman and he never showed any frustration or irritation with my prudish behaviour. He politely thanked me for my company and agreed that we should both move on.

A few months later, Stuart contacted me again.  This time with a promise that he was content to be friends and nothing more.  We've been friends ever since.  Not long after that, he left the fancy job in the city to pursue his love of acting.  The former Miss England is not too happy about losing his rather large paycheque but he's determined to make his dream happen.  I admire him for that.

But I still don't have any desire to go to bed with him.  Same goes for Phil.  No matter what lengths either he or Stuart go to, I just don't see myself ever crossing that line with them.  I am so not interested that I can discuss ex-wives, girlfriends, even the former Miss England without feeling the slightest tinge of green.  They are great friends but that is all they will ever be.

Which leads me to the other thing that I missed in that post.  I sugar-coated the fact that I was actually quite frustrated by the whole experience.  Instead of finding someone that could light my fire, I felt like I had just been doused with a bucket of cold water.  Stuart had everything that I thought I would want, but in the end I didn't want him at all.

Why is that?

I know it is a question that can't be answered but I still find myself coming back to it over and over again in a variety of ways, pondering why I can't bear the thought of going to bed with either Stuart, Phil or even my husband, but can somehow spend a good chunk of my day fantasizing about Damien.  If the rules of attraction were at all logical, I wouldn't even look in his direction. He's ten years younger than me, knows nothing of responsibility and has an ego the size of Scotland - and that's just scratching the surface.  I am sure I could write a whole post about his annoying traits if I had the inclination, but I think writing it would only illustrate that I am truly lacking any common sense whatsoever.

So for now, I will just continue to scratch my head and wonder... why, why, why...

Cate xxx

Here Kitty, Kitty

I don't think of myself as being terribly disciplined.  I can't last more than a day on a diet and I've never been one to stick to any kind of routine - be it sleeping, skin-care or exercise - no matter how beneficial some expert says it might be.


But I do have a few shreds of common sense lurking around in my head... enough to get me out of bed at 5 a.m. so I can get a seat on the early train instead of standing for 20 minutes if I stay in bed  that little bit longer.  It may not seem like a necessity but having to stand the whole journey to work just doesn't make for a good start to the day.  So early mornings are a must if I don't want to spend the day growling at my colleagues.

And I guess it is that common sense that had me panicking when I realised that the warm, fuzzy feeling that I got from Damien wasn't just a reaction to the cups of tea he brought me.  Each time he said the word 'girlfriend', I found myself seething.  I knew it was completely ridiculous but that didn't stop me from hating the very thought of her - whoever she was.

Hoping it would pass, I tried to carry on as normal.  But Damien wasn't helping.  Besides the tea, he brought me lunch when my days were too manic to stop for even the shortest break.  And then there were little gifts of chocolates left in my desk when he came back from trips to our continental offices.  But the text on New Year's Eve was possibly what threw me most - why was he thinking of me at midnight?

I don't think I have ever been so confused in all my life.  I know that I am pretty clueless when it comes to men and rarely get things right.  I don't often see the things that are blatantly obvious to everyone else and I often jump to the wrong conclusions thinking something is there when it isn't or the complete opposite.  Convinced that this was another of Cate's Classic Fuck-ups in the making, I told myself it was nothing and swore that I would not spend another millisecond pondering the pleasures of Damien.

And then one morning my attempts to act cool about everything fell apart.  As we sat in the staff canteen eating breakfast, Damien brought up the girlfriend again and started to discussing some of her less-appealing traits.  Determined to keep as far away from the subject as possible, I shoved a piece of toast in my mouth and focused on the plate of rubber eggs in front of me.  I was so lost in my own little world that I almost didn't hear my colleague say, 'Hey Cate, what's with women and cats?'  

Having been on another planet, I didn't really think about what I was about to say and just blurted out that women adopt cats when they can't seem to succeed with men.  My colleague laughed and this got me going on my theory that women turn to furry friends for a warm cuddle when they can't find a man or they've managed to scare them all away.  How else do you explain the little old ladies who live with twenty cats?

In retrospect, I am amazed that I even remember the conversation.  It was pretty harmless now that I think about it.  But as I preached about women who get weirder with age and even weirder with the more cats they adopt, I realised I was digging a bit of a hole as all eyes were on Damien.  Whilst I had been pondering whether the cook had intentionally tried to sculpt Mount Rushmore with my scrambled eggs, I'd completely blocked out Damien's confession that his girlfriend was a little quirky about her three cats.

So there I was confirming that in all likelihood she will only get worse with time, especially if she adopts more cats.  The rest of the table continued to laugh while I kept on blabbing away about the feline-female phenomenon.  But as I continued, I silently prayed for an earthquake under my seat that would conveniently swallow me up.  I could tell by the look on Damien's face that he was not nearly as amused as the rest of our team.  Sadly, England is not known for dramatic seismic events so I just continued to ramble in my flustered state.

Thankfully the subject changed or maybe it was time to get to a meeting - I don't really remember how it ended.  I just know that I felt horrible for what I had said and how Damien glared at me in return.  But, worst of all, was the nagging fear that maybe my colleagues detected the jealousy that I was trying so hard to hide.

After breakfast, I tried to convince myself that things hadn't changed between us, but they definitely had.  And to make matters worse, an office re-shuffle meant that we were no longer sitting together.  I couldn't repair the damage by being extra-generous with the tea.

So I resolved to end it, there and then.  A clean break.  Fresh start.  Damien who? 

But after a year of trying, I can't say I've succeeded.  As I mentioned at the start I lack the will power to stop doing things no matter how much I know it's for my own good.  So whilst I would manage to go for a few days, or even weeks, having nothing to do with him, eventually I would fail and I'd find myself wandering down the dangerous path of 'what if?'.  I can't blame myself entirely.  Damien had the uncanny ability of saying 'hello' via the office message system usually on the very day that I had been congratulating myself for having avoiding him so well.

The whole thing was making me rather insane.  I was seriously concerned that I was going to lose my mind if I didn't find a way to free myself of my Damien obsession.




I now have two cats.

Cate xxx