Stirrings of The Lost


Joanne laid in the bed. Curled up in a ball. She looked at the clock. 4am. Another 36 hours without more than half an hours sleep. She lay very still, her chest hardly moving for fear of waking Tom up. She knew he had a big day at work today and couldn’t handle him knowing that she was not coping as well as she was letting on.

It had been three weeks now since a life so precious was torn away from her. Three long weeks of trying to keep her head above water and keep a brave face on for the world who always expected her to just be ok and cope with any of life’s challenges. She knew everyone was waiting for her to fail, to break down and lose it all but she felt like the only thing she could do at the moment was to stay true to her usual form … and that meant keeping up her strong exterior.

The truth was, she was destroyed. Inside and out. There was nothing in the world that could have prepared her for the amount of heart ache she felt. She felt so alone, so distant, so cold and just so damn tired and frustrated all the time. The worst part is there was no one to blame, there was no reason for this. But somehow, she felt this was her fault… like a long owed karma had finally paid off its debt.

The counsellor had told her to start her pottery and painting again as a means of release. Although her mind was swirling with a thousand images and ideas, she just couldn’t bring herself to even pick up a paint brush or touch a piece of clay in fear that it would form a shape that resembled the one she lost.

She spent days in the nursery they had prepared… just lying on the floor in the dark. She was eating a sandwich at most per day and dozing in and out of consciousness the rest of the time. She seemed to remain in a state of warped reality – not conscious but not asleep. There were days where she couldn’t sleep for fear of dreaming about the miscarriage of life. The doctor prescribed a heavy sedative and it seemed to help the night mares at first. For the first time in her life, her dreams were much better than her reality now and maybe ever again. After a while, the nightmares came back though and she found herself trapped – in fear of living this life because of her failure and the heart ache she had caused everyone, and fear of sleeping for nightmares of either repeated miscarriages or dreams of a happier time where the baby survived and grew and smiled that glorious smile of Tom’s.

A tear trickled down her face now, glistening in the moonlight. Although she had spent days upon days crying, she was careful to keep this to herself. If Tom was home, she’d have a long shower and sit naked on the tiled floor of the shower ground hugging herself to keep from falling apart, always ensuring she locked the door and remained as silent as she could while her anger, frustration and heart break fought its way out. If Tom wasn’t home, she’d spend hours reading children’s books to herself, looking at the scans, watching Nickelodeon or Disney Channel just remembering that precious hand she held for a moment in time.

She imagined everything that could have been. From the first steps, to the first words, to the starting of school, the first broken bone, the first pimple, the first love… the smile… He would have had Tom’s smile.. A beautiful beaming smile full of promise and warmth. A smile that she would never see or ever get to return.

As more tears silently made their way down her face, she decided to try and focus on what the day held for her. It was Wednesday which meant another session at the counselors. Another hour for someone to tell her it was okay to be weak and okay to get angry and okay to just let it all out.

In all honesty, Joanne just wanted to move on – she wanted to go back to work and just pretend like this had never happened. By now the whole faculty would be aware and would be creeping on egg shells around her. Anything had to be better than staying inside an empty apartment day in and out, fearing the outside, jumping at any noise that awoke her slumber.

Dreaming of children crying and screaming. She had to get out of this apartment, every part of it reminded her of the moment she felt her life moving forward. It reeked of promises that she could never fulfill because her body would never allow her to.

It was meant to be the best thing to happen to them.

How did it turn so horribly wrong? How did it suddenly bring on unimaginable pain? And from this, how was their relationship meant to survive such a tragedy? These were questions she knew she would never have the answer to, but questions that kept circulating in her mind begging for attention.

It didn’t matter now. She just had to keep pushing forward. And that meant returning to some sense of normality.
She was sick of being treated like an injured animal; she was a human, fragile, but still an average human like every other who walked the streets. This was her battle. This was no one else’s and no one else had the right to tell her how to feel or how to deal or how it wasn’t her fault.

They didn’t know.

They would never understand the amount of guilt that tugged on her heart every single waking moment.

So how dare they tell her she’s not alone.
When that was the one thing she was sure of.

She was alone in this moment; her heart had long left and her sanity hid behind the shadows of regret.


So Let’s Do It Like They Do On The Discovery Channel


A few years ago, one of my best friends met a guy who she has always described as the best sex of her life.  At the time, I was in a relationship with someone who I thought… THOUGHT i was going to spend the rest of my life with, solely because I assumed what we had was pretty good, until we got into the bedroom … Where the chemistry just seemed to disappear. I was in one of those situations where two of my best friends were in relationships, but mine had been longer than both so thought I was the wise one of the bunch ready to give advice here, there and everywhere.

This said best friend had the most amazing sex life, I mean these two would put rabbits to shame with their non-stop bedroom antics.  At the time I assumed it was just a sexual relationship. I was on my high horse and kept thinking it would only be a matter of time before the chemistry wore off, before she found out he was using her for sex or before they both just ran out of things to do in the bedroom…
Oh how wrong I was.

I could not understand at that point in my life how someone could have such an amazing relationship with one person and not have it entirely revolve around sex – when it seemed that was the basis for their relationship.

My dad and his latest wife had an open relationship and though I never fully understood it, that coupled with the amount of males who used me solely for sex, made me think that being in a good relationship meant that the sex didn’t have to be spectacular – because spectacular sex just led to heartbreak… or empty feelings.

My friend is now happily engaged to this man, they have a daughter together and own a house together.  Meanwhile, that relationship I was in has long ended in a lot of heartbreak and confusion.

It wasn’t until this year .. in fact, this relationship I am in, that I realised how important it is to be so sexually confident, open and even liberated with the person you are dating and that in itself is a sign of good things to come.

Sex has always been up on my favourite activities, but I always thought you could have great sex and an average connection/no commitment or average/bad sex and an amazing connection/relationship.

One of my other best friends just got married to her love of eight years, and it wasn’t until I got to know them better that I realised you can still be in love, have a mutual respect and understanding of each other and have an amazingly fulfilling sex life – even after such a long time together.

In fact, their marriage/relationship gets ‘frowned upon’ by another couple who have been together for just as long but maybe only have sex once every couple of months at best – they just think it’s all a show and that their connection isn’t genuine.  They do not understand how one of my best friends ‘leads this lifestyle’ with her now husband. 

I honestly used to think what they had was rare too and they were just ‘lucky’ in what they had or they were just very sexual people.  However,  upon several conversations with other married friends and workmates, I have realised that having a healthy sex life is one of the most important aspects in a relationship – that is what differs your relationship from a friendship.

If you’re in a deeply committed and fun relationship with someone, you should be able to express yourself in the bedroom, to feel sexy and wanted, to be able to explore your sexuality and desires without feeling as though you are being frowned, judged or looked down upon.

Whilst sex is not the be all and end all of relationships, it is vitally important in maintaining a successful and happy bond between two people.

So ladies and gents, do yourself a favour and spend a good hour or two exploring your sexuality and desires with your partner this weekend … after all, you deserve it… and I guarantee it will only do your relationship good …