If moving house is anything as stressful as moving blog addresses, then I'm not doing it in a hurry. Yes, I know, I've moved again. Please don't get too dizzy, this time is the last time, I promise.
I'll explain the reason behind my moving in a minute, but really, it's a blessing, because I do like this layout so much better, and I know I said that the last time as well, but really, I mean it this time, honest.
So much has happened, I'm not entirely sure where to begin. I'll be honest, lately the quality of my blogging has been, well, pants. It's fine, you can agree, it's true. The reason for this is because I've not been able to write about what's on my mind, my creative freedom has been blocked by a bunch of bitchy girls that really should know better.
The whole point of writing is to express your thoughts, rant a little, blah, blah, but really, if you can't rant about what's on your mind, what's the point? I got into writing because I found it therapeutic, and it stops me bottling things up and getting stressed out. Not being able to do that has, you guessed it, stressed me out. I have spots, spots I tell you! This is not good, especially the week before Christmas when there's all manner of functions to be attending. Of course, this regression back to my teenage spot years has absolutely nothing at all to do with the amount of Dairy Milk I've been throwing down my neck, nothing at all.
So I'll start at the beginning. I've been dying to do this. Bear with me, it's quite a long story, but like all good tales, it has a lesson to be learnt at the end. Who said reading my blog wasn't educational?
So here goes ....
I went to Marmaris on my own in October, I'm sure a lot of you will know all about this. I met a bunch of girls out there that were also on their own, spending season out there, or in small groups. Originally we formed a merry band of tourists and enjoyed ourselves, it was great, all girls together. For all of about two days, before the inevitable bitching began. In fact, it might not even have been two days.
It turned into something out of Mean Girls, which would be fine had the girls involved been high school age. One of them was knocking on fifty-odd, in fact she was the ring leader of the lot. She ruled the roost and told everyone what to do, nobody would dare cross her and everyone did as she said, all except one. Of course, the one who didn't do as she was told, was ostracised and bitched about and then in the end, stitched up and pretty much bullied online.
I'm actually ashamed to say that I basically went along with whatever this old woman had to say, simply because I was, a) on my own, b) quite keen to go and see the ex, who then turned out not to be an ex again, but now might be, but I'm not sure (more on that later), and c) I was a bit of a plank really.
These girls, as nice as they were to me at the time, turned out to be your typical English/Scottish girls in Marmaris, or what the locals refer to as typical anyway. Slappers, that's probably the kindest way to put it. The old saying that you get tarred with the same brush by association is quite true, so at night time, when the slapperage was at its worst, I stayed out of the way, and spent time with the person who, if I'm honest, I went out there to see in the first place. The next morning I was filled in on the shenanigans of the night before and it made me glad I'd stayed in with the boy.
There was one girl who I felt I clicked with straight away; she turned out to be the only one with enough balls to stick up for herself at the time and did her own thing. Credit to her, I say. At the time I felt pulled in two directions, actually no, make that three. On the one hand, I felt like I ought to go along with the girls, I'm not sure why, maybe some twisted version of loyalty, but also for my own ends because I knew we'd end up down the end of the beach I wanted to be (i.e. to see the boy). Secondly I wanted to spend more time with the other girl, because I genuinely got along with her and I felt her kind of holiday was definitely my idea of a holiday too, but thirdly, and possibly most of all, I wanted to spend time with the boy. I wasn't happy when I wasn't with him or near him, because I am sad and have serious separation issues, and I really need to get a handle on it. But anyway, picture a brunette girl who had someone grabbing one arm, someone else grabbing the other, someone grabbing a leg, and all pulling at once in different directions. I was basically hopping around on one leg with someone grabbing me towards Icmeler, one towards the marina and another somewhere in the middle of the sea. It was awkward to say the least.
Little things started to annoy me whilst we were there, like the older woman getting far too involved with the boys who I'd made friends with on previous holidays, and who I believe know me for the person I am, and who don't lump me into the 'just like every other English girl' thing they have. Again, tarred by association, and it worried me. She began to make little remarks about the boy, basically making it quite clear she would have jumped at the chance of flirting the life out of him if I'd not been on the scene. Now, rightly or wrongly, I am a girl who isn't the most secure, so when some big, brash, far too confident woman decides that she wants a go on my fella, I get a tad bit insecure and start worring that he would rather have her. He wouldn't, at least, he'd better not (and if he were talking to me, I'd ask him, but he's not, so I can't. Grrr, men).
For all of this, I must admit that at the time she treated me like a friend. She may have been overly controlling, but this I didn't see at the time because I wasn't interested, I was far too distracted by other things.
It wasn't until we got home that she showed her true, dark colours.
Now, I will state here and now that I am not proud of myself and the way I allowed myself to be sucked into a world that I can now see as completely not me. Why did I do it? I don't know, distraction from monotony, flattered that people I'd only just met really seemed to like me? Feeling like I belonged to a group that loved the same place as me? I don't know, but none of those reasons are good enough, and they're certainly not an excuse. I stood by and let them call people names and bitch. I may even have agreed at times, simply for a quiet life, when I certainly didn't agree. I hated it. I felt horrible.
So when things took a turn for the sinister, I called time and got out.
When someone's relationship is at risk because of the actions of a few childish, bitchy girls, who are trying to split a four year relationship up, simply for the hell of it, well, I'm out. So I blabbed to the girl who it involved, we got one step ahead of them and their plan failed spectacularly. I wouldn't be involved, I refused.
I slowly pulled myself away from that group, I saw them for what they were. I then learnt that the older woman had poured the blame of an argument onto me, simply to get herself out of the frame, when I wasn't even there to be involved. She then tried to cause trouble between me and the boy, by trying to get me insanely jealous over a fake profile on Facebook, which I'm not convinced wasn't of her making in the first place.
Reading this back, it's all so stupidly childish, I can't believe it actually happened.
Like most things in life, karma comes back around. The good thing to come out of all this mess is that I am now genuinely good friends with the girl that I wish I'd spent more time with on that holiday. We are planning our own holiday in a little while and I will no doubt go away with her in summer. So really, good deeds are rewarded, and karma bites those on the arse that are spiteful.
I have learnt that I shouldn't apologise for being me. I may not be the wildest, I might be a bit quiet at times, but I don't care. I'm a good person, I'm funny, I'm kind and I have a conscience. I care what people think about me. It has also taught me that you can't trust everyone you meet, because unfortunately not everyone is nice, and not everyone is a good person with a kind heart. Unfortunately.
October showed me the dark side of Marmaris, yet I still love the place. Maybe I needed to see that side of it, to toughen me up a bit. I don't regret going for all this crap that's happened since, I met a good friend out of it, I saw old friends and met a few new ones too. I spent time with someone that I genuinely adore, rightly or wrongly, and whether I ever see him again or not, I will cherish my memories because although I might not understand him at the moment, my memories make me smile even now. My heart was broken, I won't deny it, it's still not healed, and I get the feeling it might be cracked a few more times before we're done, but I'm tougher for it, and I wouldn't change a thing. It's actually beginning to teach me my own self-worth, and the way I do and don't deserve to be treated.
So this week I took the dive and blocked the lot of the troublemakers from Facebook, MSN and ignored texts. I have had enough. The upcoming year will be a new start. I'm not convinced the older one won't try to cause trouble for me, specifically by targetting the boy if I'm honest, but it's fine, I've got it covered, and I know who he'll believe - it's certainly not her and her lies. Thankfully a mutual friend has also seen through her and will back me up all the way.
Phew, I feel so much better for getting that off my chest. My wrist hurts, I've not typed that fast in ages.
So that's the reason I moved, I don't want anything I write to be used against me in any way, shape or form, so I've gone icongnito and shifted the lot. From now on my fingers are free to write whatever flows down to them.
Many a lesson learnt indeed.