I haven’t been on my phone much today, which is unusual for me.  I took my youngest to Sunday School this morning and I’ve spent all afternoon batch cooking in an(other) attempt to eat better and be more organised this week.  Also because I sent the Saint (name for my husband from my old blog but I’m wondering whether he’s Saint or Sinner at the moment) a mail about how pissed off I was with his division of the household bills whereby he doesn’t even pay a quarter of the bills and he replied “ok I won’t do the shopping any more then”.  Which is mature of him.  So I went shopping and I planned my meals for the week.

Of course my alarm is on my phone, so i always end up having a little scroll upon waking and I saw this:

“There are two clever ways the mind tries to avoid pain: ‘intellectualising’ and ‘rumination’.  

One turns emotion into theory, the other turns theory into worry. Together, they make us feel like we’re making progress, when really we’re just circling the same ache in slightly different words.  

Intellectualising often begins with the best of intentions. It’s the mind’s way of trying to make sense of what hurts, to bring order to chaos. We analyse our heartbreak, our shame, our fear, hoping that if we can understand it, we can control it. But understanding isn’t the same as healing. We can know everything about our pain and still be standing outside it, unable to move through.  

Rumination starts when the mind begins to panic. It’s when we replay the same scene, the same conversation, the same regret, again and again, as if thinking about it one more time might finally change the ending. Rumination isn’t really thinking. It’s the mind trying to do with logic what only gentleness and time can do.  

Both habits come from care. We ruminate because we want to make things right. We intellectualise because we want to make things clear. But both are, in their own quiet way, ways of avoiding what we don’t want to feel.  

Moving beyond them doesn’t mean we stop thinking. It means we start thinking differently. It means letting the mind serve the heart, instead of trying to replace it. It means allowing the ache to exist without rushing to turn it into an idea or a conclusion.  

Sometimes the wisest thing we can do is stop intellectualising. Sometimes the kindest thing we can do is stop ruminating.  

To simply sit with ourselves, without trying to solve or explain anything. To let things be unfinished for a while.

Because healing doesn’t come from finding the perfect answer. It comes from giving ourselves permission to feel what’s really there, and to trust that this, somehow, is enough.”

I didn’t buy into a lot of OA (Overeaters Anonymous) when i did it and struggled with the Higher Power concept at the time, but somehow this felt like a message from a HP.  I wondered if the blog was another way of intellectualising and ruminating, so i decided to just do my day and see how I felt.

And I felt better.  I started to mellow.  I wondered if it was time to make friends with the Saint, who was trying his best to be nice and for us to be friends.  We sat down to watch a film with the youngest and, after a bit, the son noticed there were presents under the tree.  He went to look who they were for.  I told him for each present at the front.  Then he said that he knew the ones at the back were for his dad because he’d told him that and I said no they are for you from Grandma.  The Saint said he had said no such thing.  Our son said “yes, whilst we were playing with the black balloon the other day and you said there was no label on them therefore they were for you” (the level of detail shows this was not made up and he had NO REASON to make it up either) and the Saint was like “I don’t know what you’re talking about.  I never said that”.  My son looked at me and said “he did” and I said “I know.  This is what happens to me all the time”.  

The Saint left the room and went out for a cigarette.  After a while, I went upstairs to hang up the washing.  The Saint was in there.  He thanked me for doing all the washing.  I wondered if he would apologise for what had happened or say something like he had no recollection of it.  But nothing.  Just pretend it never happened, like everything else in this house.

And that’s what all this is about.  It’s not about the money.  It’s that I don’t feel safe.  I feel like I’m being gaslit.  I feel like he makes me feel like I’m losing my mind when I have two other people in the house who are having the same experiences with him.  The blog was to record stuff as proof, but sometimes you don’t know what you need proof of!!  Who would have thought a conversation about presents would be denied?  The other week I was looking for our son’s watch charger because originally the Saint had said it was in the drawer with all the other chargers, then he said no it was in the box it had come in.  I had thrown away that box but was convinced it was empty (hence why i threw it) but I tipped out the recycling bin, found the box and it was empty.  So i went to the drawer and it was in there.  I said it was in the drawer like he’d said originally.  We ended up having a massive argument.   He said he had never said that.  I was like “well that was why i looked there because you did”.  He argued the toss, swearing he had never ever said that and that i had put it there (i NEVER put anything away in the correct place so that is highly unlikely).  But he wouldn’t back down and i felt like I was going insane.

He tells me I’m in a mood when I’m not and i start to wonder if I am.  It was when our son whispered to me on holiday this summer that I definitely wasn’t in a mood when accused of being in one that I left.  I know this stuff.  I need to stop believing what he is telling me about myself which is just him projecting his shit and feelings on me.  

So this all brings me to the latest fight and this warrants a blog of it’s own.  To be continued…

23/11/2025