Faith. A blast from the pastI found a piece of paper scrawled over with the brain zap of my 19 year old self falling in love for the first time. The first part was romantic as all hell. The usual treacle drenched musings of a teen in love. The last part made me realise that I’ve lost something important.

The first time I read it, the words sounded like someone else’s. Reading over it again I recalled those feeling from over 16 years ago. Sharp and hazy at the same time. I became aware that I held my breath as I read. I’ve always found the process of falling in love terrifying. But that very first time… I can feel that memory. Eyes open. Cheeks flushed by the cold, fast air against my face as we fell into the abyss together. Reckless. With a faith that I don’t think I ever had before or since. And today I am doing my own head in because I realize that I haven’t let go of all that pain, still harboring sadness from the actions of a boy who didn’t know what he was doing any more than I did.

It’s times like this I wonder how much damage I’m doing to myself walking into the doors at work? How many encounters can this little heart take? One after the other, with men who just by being who they are, no intent or malice, provide countless exhibits in the case against faith.

We almost got married. I was 19. I still have my wedding ring somewhere. We eloped to Rome, but I bailed 3 days before the wedding. I didn’t want to have that day without my family there. It didn’t feel right. I remember when I told him, we were sitting in the hot sun together, sweat running down the back of my calves as our legs dangled in unison over the stone blocks of ancient ruins in a park near the Colosseum. All he said was, “I feel like someone just cancelled Christmas.” His face was upturned and he squinted into the sun, before lowering his gaze to stare at the ground and take my clammy little hand in his. He was adorable. He loved me so very much.

Turned out to be one of the best decisions I ever made.

My first love chose liquor and lies in the end. Let me travel 32 hours back to Australia alone, to have the jelly bean we made on the bottom bunk of a hostel bed in Dublin, vacuumed out of my uterus. Abortion was illegal in Ireland in January 2001. I had no option but to come home. He stayed over there to drink himself into oblivion, and didn’t come back until one year later when I said I knew he’d been banging someone else and that it was over between he and I. That slap in the face. It’s the slap in the face that reminds someone that they have something to lose. Sometimes too late.

Wasn’t too late for him. No way. I was still brimming with faith. I took him back, as you do. It didn’t work out, as it doesn’t. Took another 2 years to drown. I never long for, or mourn  the 14 year old child I could have had. I never long for, or mourn the relationship I had with him. But I long for, and mourn that faith. I don’t know how to get it back. I don’t know who is deserving of it or if I’ll ever find them. I still love that guy who saw it last. We are friends to this day, and I will always, always love him because he did the best he could, he never laid a hand on me, and he is a good person worth forgiving. We were young. We didn’t know any better. But somehow I knew this…

“I am terrified that we will sooner or later turn from each other and I will never be able to have back, or to give again, exactly what he has of me now.”


11 thoughts on “FAITH. A BLAST FROM THE PAST.

  1. Thank you for this site!! The last story reminded me of a love I lost many years ago, funny, she was a sex worker and I was the stupid boy. I lost a little of my faith too:(

    Liked by 2 people

    • Live and learn I guess. I feel lucky in a sense that I don’t have the feeling of having let someone pass me by. I wonder if that’s worse than the feeling of being utterly disappointed in manchildren.

      Thanks for the props. I really appreciate the positive feedback. You can subscribe to the blog using your email address if you’d like to be notified of new posts


  2. These are stupendous. I very rarely laugh out loud at blogs whilst slightly more than a little hazy after a night out, but I have just read every single post over the last 40 minutes, really enjoying every word.

    Very well written, and quite enlightening too.

    Anyway, thank you for livening up my tea on my verandah this morning!



      • Oh! And subscribe using your email address if you want to get notified when I do more. Have had a little break while having a rough patch in life of late, but will be getting back in there over the coming weeks.


  3. You’ve heard it before I’m sure, but: I’m. Not. Like. The. Other. Guys…. For starters, I am unique, original, and I live in the present. I don’t judge. And for what it’s worth, you are a beautiful writer…


  4. Hey Billie. Your posts are funny, insightful, sometimes heartbreaking but most of all real. I imagine you are all that and much more. Looking forward to more posts. Would love to chat sometime.


  5. I am extremely impressed with your writing. I have had many friends in the industry who have expressed some of your feelings but never so articulately! You are a very intriguing woman with a lot to offer…I can feel the pain in some of your stories and it’s kind of heartbreaking. Any way now that you think I’m a psycho…writer to writer…you make me want to read more!


    • Thanks E. Glad you rose to the challenge! It’s a heart breaker of a job sometimes but can also be a healer. Double edged sword, as with life in general i guess. Hope you keep following and it makes me happy to get feedback from people such as yourself with an open mind.


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