Always Hate Me


It breaks my heart to know deep down that this is exactly where we are heading.
Except that I will get to the point of not caring to hate.
It’s like a balancing act: love and hate are just two sides of the same coin; on the other side there is only indifference.
The love is gone, leaving space to mixed feelings which are starting to find a defined place in my heart, in my mind, in my past.
The hate will go too. I can’t hate someone who will most likely never have the courage to look inside himself and realise that – maybe – when his wife clearly said she couldn’t feel a connection any more it was meant to be a step towards redefining the relationship, not a ticket to check out and jump onto the first convenient train that happened to pass by. It was, and is, all about him.

I will always see the love that once was in my three girls. And that is enough for me to keep on smiling inside. Despite the overflowing sadness which is taking over the anger right now.


Don’t Wanna Be Your Girl No More


I survived the first month of 2014. Truth to be told it’s been overall a good month. I kind of know how to “fix” me when things are wrong. Little things, which make a huge difference, based on a self imposed change of attitude. I started running. I made sure I got back into the gym (not necessarily for the exercise, more for the sense of belonging, for seeing people I know, for having the girls taken care of in the crèche), Tilly started ballet and Evie started Street Dance (again a double catch, the local dance school waiting room is the place to be for all the local gossip), I said yes to every single coffee invite from all the mums I really like but never make time for because I’d rather make sure Tilly and Mia steam off at the park, I went on a couple of girly nights out. Normal stuff normal people do. Except that I’d put it all off because I was feeling miserable, because I was “holding on to my life”, because I wasn’t up for any of it for a long time.

I have also forced certain thoughts out of my mind. By forced I really mean “forced”. vitto haunts me. There is nothing I can do about it, but I’ve learned how to kick her out of my mind. When I can’t I just let myself be really really angry. And go for a run. Or rant with a friend. But I don’t let her be alone with me in my thoughts. If Tom is around and the conversation leads to her I will happily insult her, and let him know how disappointed I am that he brought her in my life (and that so far he has done nothing to get her out of my life either, which is even worse). But that’s about it. I decided I don’t have time for her. And I made sure I don’t have the energy for her, because by the time the girls are in bed I am exhausted. I still manage to spend a couple of hours reading, browsing, sorting out photos, texting or chatting to friends but I don’t wake up in the middle of the night unable to go back to sleep because of all the horrible thoughts I used to get. I sleep well. Really really well. I wake up in a good mood. I wear a little make up every single day. And people around me have noticed something is different. Which makes me want to keep on doing what I am doing.

Tom was here for two week ends in a row. And as much as I try to be in control and walk the “it’s all fine and I don’t care that you are sending us to the point of no return” talk I do have a hard time knowing that there is no point in initiating any sort of insightful conversation. Interestingly enough his reaction to this is repressed anger, which always lashes out at some point, in a ridiculous sort of way (YOU didn’t teach the girls Italian properly, YOU don’t let them be themselves, YOU wanted the cat, YOU YOU YOU….). All I’ve ever replied to that apart from stating the facts is that his only huge mistake was to withdraw. To make it look like certain things were ok for him and never say they weren’t. You can’t be lazy and speak Italian to your eldest child for 7 years and then decide her Italian is bad and it’s all my fault. And you can’t promise a 5 year old she can have a cat for Xmas and two years later say you didn’t really want such cat (and no, I never pushed for the cat. And yes I did find her, buy her and go pick her up after he made that promise to Evie).

On Monday afternoon I was finally alone for a couple of hours: Evie at school, Tilly at nursery, Mia asleep, Tom still in London visiting his lawyer. I sit at the computer and listen to a song a good friend sent me via Spotify.

I broke down. I just sobbed and sobbed and sobbed. Because that’s exactly it. I don’t want to be in this kind of relationship any more. Even if I still want my marriage to survive. It makes no sense, I know. But that was exactly it. I had a good month on my own. I had a couple of bad week ends with Tom around. And I realised that enough is enough.

I wiped my face, woke baby Mia up with a hug and we headed out in the rain to pick up the other two, looking horrible, feeling worse and knowing that people noticed the mascara. This song in my heart.

I don’t wanna be your girl no more
No more
I just wanna see your face at home

You can’t do me right
So I decide that

I don’t wanna be your girl no more
No more
I just wanna see you up and out
Out of the door

I’m not living right
So I decide that

I don’t wanna be your girl no more
No more

I won’t hide the ways I’ve tried
It’s just not right
It’s killing me tonight


Evie 2 Mummy | 22 November 2013


Evie writes me letters and notes. She started after the summer, normally when I am cleaning up the kitchen after the girls dinner while they play a little before we all head upstairs to brush tiny teeth, read books and go to bed. I’ve been crying a lot since we got back from Sabaudia, and I haven’t always been able to hide it. Evie’s words are her way of cheering me up, letting me know she knows something is not the way it should be.

Tom doesn’t want to say anything to her. He doesn’t want me to say anything to her either. His  view is not to let the girls know that we are breaking up at ll. He wants to keep up the appearances with them, taking advantage of the fact that he only comes home every two weeks or so anyway.  I am not sure how long he wants to keep this act going for, nor do I understand what sense it makes in the long run. He has told shouted at me more than once that I am “ruining” my child, because she should be kept away from our problems. I let him read one of her letters, hoping that maybe he would start to understand why I am still trying to see if there is a way we can work on our marriage, even though I was the one to file for divorce once I found out about his double life and lost it because he kept lying to my face. Another mistake. Now I am to blame for letting my children know that our family is going through a difficult phase.

I agree that she and her sisters need to be shielded. I also refuse to lie to my children. As much as I try I can’t keep it all inside, all the time. I am hardly ever alone, without them. And all that’s been happening has been too overwhelming and full of drama for me to simply hide it all day, every day until Evie, Tilly and Mia are all in bed, fast asleep.

Somehow as the evening approaches I just can’t keep it together. I’ll be cooking dinner adding tears instead of salt to their meals, while they relax watching tv upstairs (I never used to let them sit upstairs alone, I prefer having them in the kitchen with me, so we can chat) and I know Evie notices I am just very very sad.

My heart breaks as I read her words. And the tears keep on flowing.

I am so proud of her trying to “make it all ok”; at the same time I hate knowing that part of her innocence is being stolen way too early.

Dear mummy


when can you write me the letter?


If you can do it Now. Please!

I know you tried really hard to have Xmas in London but it’s always nice to try new things. Right? And we are trying to.


I know Daddy wants to be the boss of EVERYTHING. But he can’t. You can make him feel upset if you try hard.

Don’t worry about EVERYTHING.

You don’t have to worry. You never have to worry. Everything is going to be ok.

Love from Evie

Who, exactly, did something not quite right here?


I am in Limbo. The heat of the summer has been long forgotten, not so the pain caused by all that happened on holiday.

Earlier this month I contacted ‘Vitto’s” husband. Only because Tom laughed at me when I jokingly told him I was having interesting conversations with him. Fact is, 2 days later I contacted him via Linkedin, introduced myself, gave him a brief explanation of what is going on and why  I wanted to talk to him… and he asked me to call him because a chat seemed more appropriate. He’s been suspecting something was up between his wife and Tom for months. And for exactly the same reasons: the locked phones, iPad, computer, the secret running sessions (he saw them, they were running but it was just the two of them, certainly not the whole department), he knows they would go for breakfast together (and I then found out they would also drive to work together, again, secretly). They’ve been seen spending quite a while at her door, in the evening, when he would drive her home on a few occasions. And the one time he managed to stick his nose into her phone he found messages full of hearts and other emoticons saying “I love you! We are crazy”.

Obviously I am now the bad person. Because I went shopping for information. Because I made Tom feel like a special observed person at a distance. Because he is only doing “normal” stuff (with another woman). Because he doesn’t remember going running with her alone (he actually told me all along he was running on his own under the arches, not in the square where he was seen with her). Because there are only 3 coffee shops on the way to work and he always meets someone in there (This is insulting: 3 coffee shops in Turin, Italy? In the centre of the town? And the whole of the company he works for goes in one of those three, every morning at the same time and by chance he would meet her?). Her husband said he would wait around for her very often so they could get out of the house together, she would get nervous and hang around until he left. He then found out they were having breakfast together (but oh no, it’s not breakfast, I would only have a cappuccino).

I’ve been yelled at. I’ve been insulted. I’ve been told I am exaggerating. I’ve been told that he will file for divorce if I don’t stop insinuating he has/had another woman. And will NOT explain any of it. And will still NOT have a conversation about us.

I know I should just leave everything as it is. And run. Because I will never get my answers. Because I know he is lying through his teeth and something has been up. Because I can’t stand a person who doesn’t have the balls to owe up to his actions, especially when caught out. Because after 18 years I can’t accept an “I don’t know” (what I want, if I want to be with you, what I want to do).  Because there is only one thing that I can’t fix in a relationship: the bond of trust. When the foundations get wiped away I have nothing to build up on. And this is the one boundary I try to keep well in mind as I get closer to a decision.

I still don’t have the guts to do it. I am still letting him call the shots. And I know this is unfair. Because he doesn’t deserve to be in that position. Because I don’t deserve to be in this position.