Heavenly Beverley : Still Pinching Myself after Seven Years.

Friday, 20 May 2016

Still Pinching Myself after Seven Years.

Yesterday, Michael and I celebrated our lives together - our seventh anniversary. Sometimes this feels like a long rollercoaster ride. Conversely, a moment that has passed in the blink of our eyes. The most exciting part of the day was watching "Rake" on the television with the marvellous Richard Roxburgh. With a glass of vino of course.

Thinking back, our relationship hasn't been all beer and skittles. We've had some really tough episodes. Doesn't everybody? But what struck me is the thrill I still feel when I see Michael walk into the room. The way our eyes meet. The way we still touch at every opportunity. The way we hold hands when we're lying in bed. Or curl into each other when we sleep.

I have never felt so loved. My life changed forever that Tuesday evening when some bloke called "Spider52" summoned up the courage to contact "Lunachick" online. His photograph was of him with Ruby. We met for a dog date at Whiteman Park to check the dogs would get on together. Our next date was "supervised" by well-meaning friends who didn't want me burnt by another disastrous affair.

Then there were the obstacles to our fledgling relationship. I was not permitted in Michael's house, even when his children were not on the premises. He would stay over with me three nights a week and we would meet in local parks for a glass of vino and walk with our dogs. Every time we parted, hurt like physical pain.

In that first six months, we were able to escape on a couple of occasions - down to the South West on a work trip and our first Goldfields excursion. I was so in love with Michael and constantly worrying the pressure would get too much for him. Christmas Day we spent apart. Post Christmas I was reminded by several of Michael's friends that I wasn't Joan (Michael's previous wife who had died). That was probably the lowest point for me.

After New Year 2010, Michael's health started deteriorating. In March, he developed his first really debilitating chest infection. During our second trip away in April, he was really struggling with the anxiety that was threatening to overwhelm him. At the beginning of June, his health completely collapsed - mentally and physically. He was suicidal by the time I managed to organise a mental health assessment with my GP. He was ill with another chest infection and his weight plummetted. He was grey and exhausted and lost in a private hell.

So I fought for him. He gradually started improving. I knew we had to get out of the Big Smoke and find a safe haven for him. We sold up and moved to Beverley. Michael hibernated for eighteen months, working on the House that Rocks. Letting go of his family home took another few years. My relief was tangible when the Beechboro house finally sold.

Then the challenge of the Forbes building. Michael fell in love with the derelict dump from the first moment. How could I refuse him? The restoration of the building coincided with Michael's continuing tentative recovery.

And now we are the ecstatic owners of the East End Gallery. As I sit at my desk, I am listening to "Brothers in Arms" being sung by Mark Knopfler. Very appropriate for us. Michael is persevering with a fire screen that is giving him the heebie-jeebies. He has yet another chest infection that is requiring antibiotic infusions to keep him out of hospital. And the Black Dog is never too far from either of our heels.

Yet we are so happy. We have the Three Stooges, Madame Cat and the Pirate Parrott. We have my children whom we share. And a grandkitten. We have our Gallery. We still have the House that Rocks, but we are more than ready for the house to sell, so we can begin building Station Cottage on the block behind the East End Gallery. Home is where we have each other.

Bliss.