Olivia – missing in action. Information overload and too many choices!
Hugo, Jane and I attended the family party arranged for me to meet his mother and father. Thankfully, it had been toned down a little due to my whiny requests to for it to be a more low key affair. I am more of an introvert than an extrovert in times like these and had to remind myself this wasn’t going to be one of my ordinary parties where I would be happier naked. This was certainly not one of those occasions.
The party was held at a local hotel, and Hugo’s parents were lovely and welcomed me with open arms. His mother held back a bit with me, and I could see she wanted to ask me more questions. I think Hugo had told her to go easy. Towards the end of the evening, as the drink seemed to loosen her lips, she let something slip about Jane.
She’d always thought he’d end up with her and then when she found out she was a dike (yes, she actually used that word) her heart sank. Gee thanks, mom! “Now she is here this weekend with the two of you…” she continued, “I’m not sure it’s all over…” All over?
I dared not ask, but she told me anyway.
“The two of them have been on and off for years, and now he brings her along with you this weekend.”
I was stunned to silence, and again, I dared not ask. But you guessed it, she told me anyway!
“Of course dear, these are just rumors, and I couldn’t tell truly whether the two of them have a history or not.” Gee thanks once again mom.
She was a bit drunk, and every fiber of my body wanted to tell her that her son was boning the pair of us and that wasn’t all. My two gay friends from New York had had him too as well as every other woman I let into our lives. He was one lucky son-of-bitch, and I could now put my hand on my heart and say this statement was true. She really was being a bitch…..then it hit me.
Thanks to Hugo’s mother, I had a front-row seat for a lesson in how to be a bitch. I then encouraged more and sat back and learned all I could from my new guru in bitchiness.
We went to bed in the early hours of the morning and I had succeeded in my mission. I finished the night in the knowledge that Hugo’s mother and I were friends. A tough target to hit seeing as mothers and I don’t usually get on. When I met Jane’s parents, they must have been left with the idea I was pure evil.
Yet, through some strange act, neither Jane nor Hugo’s parents have come across each other, so there is no ticking time bomb waiting to go off just now. Only the story running lose in my head that Hugo and Jane may have been an item in the past. A story with any substance or no smoke without fire?
They both told me they had a longing for each other and that was all. I believed them. These two people are the most important I will ever encounter, and I have to trust them.
We play the part of good little English country folk and not the sexual fiends who seek our pleasures elsewhere.
We had interconnecting bedrooms and made the excuse that Jane wasn’t feeling too well so she could stay in with me, which I thought was the best. Hugo could then come and go, and nobody would be any the wiser. As to the alternative, with Jane sneaking into our room in the middle of the night, well, Hugo’s mother would never let that one go. By the time we got settled, we are too tired for much else, and we were asleep in no time.
I woke the next morning with a splitting headache and blurred vision. It was like I’d lost my set of powerful glasses – which in this case as I don’t wear them, was like I’d put on someone else’s thick glasses. I apologize to anyone who has the misfortune to suffer from bad eyesight, and my temporary condition, although only a brief encounter, was enough to know that life without good vision is not a pleasant experience.
By late morning, I was a little more concerned. Jane was leading me around and helping me get ready for a Sunday lunch thing and round two with Hugo’s mother. No one wanted to say it, but we’d have to cancel, and that wouldn’t sit well with the locals.
READ ON FROM HERE
In the end, I made the called to tell her, and within minutes she was in our room. I didn’t see this at the time, but Jane told me later that the game was up when Hugo’s mother caught sight of how we were living. She said the look on her face said it all.
We both sat facing each, half on the bed, her face a blur but her Chanel perfume ever present. “I can tell you what I think it is.” Without permission, she continued. “It’s Psychosomatic.” She leaned forward and whispered, “you should just give in to him and marry my son, he’s totally obsessed with you, you know.”
This was music to my ears, but it wasn’t my ears that needed help.
She kissed me on the forehead and said, “rest up darling, keep the room dark.” She was mothering me, and we’d connected enough for me not to worry about us going forward.
Then she started barking orders. “Jane, do not leave her side and please look after her. Hugo, a word outside please.” I had to wait a whole week until he would tell me what she’d said.
We missed lunch, and Hugo and Jane stayed with me most of the day, then I told him to bugger off for the evening. It was so unfair he should be stuck with me and away from his family and friends.
Jane and I made love, which I desperately wanted, having gone nearly 48-hours without intimacy.
Hugo went to the pub and came back late. We talked for a time, and they went to sleep while I watched the blurry night sky out the window and wondered about my future and whether my eyesight thing would clear up.
Hugo, as my now personal doctor, told me I had no physical damage but had been wanting me to go to the hospital all day, with the threat that if my condition hadn’t improved by the morning, we’d be going there first thing. I got very little sleep. I didn’t want to go to a British hospital, and I wouldn’t be able to fly home in my condition either, so it all weighed heavy on me, and my options didn’t seem that good.
The next day we spent time at the hospital. I asked Jane to go and do something else, but she refused, telling me she wouldn’t leave me. The whole day was wasted, and nothing was done. The doctors, although they were all very good, couldn’t offer me anything but advice and a follow up with a local doctor. Hugo’s mother’s private doctor was the best I could hope for and yet what could he do?
Hugo and his mother were both right, this wasn’t physical, it was a mental problem. I spoke with my therapist Joan on the phone, and then Hugo and Jane drove me down to London to see her. She saw them for the first time in her waiting room. I so regret not having the vision to see her reaction when she saw them. I’d talked to her about them for hours, and now she got to see them.
I spent four hours with Joan that afternoon which ran into the evening. We talked out what it could be. I accepted every little idea she shared with me. She too was sure it was Psychosomatic, and I went with it straight away, but we couldn’t seem to put our finger on the trigger, but we did try.
She rearranged her appointments for the following day and blocked out another two hours for me. Before we finished that first day, she told me to bring them both in, and we could have a group session if I wanted. I could sum up my reaction in one word, excited. Weird, but true.
She went to fetch them, but only Jane came back in. Shit, where was Hugo? I was in full panic mode, and he was due back on duty the day after tomorrow. Jane hugged me, “he’s trying to get some compassionate leave. He’ll be back soon, don’t worry.”
Jane has never had therapy before, and I wasn’t sure how she would react. She sat and firmly held my hand and started blurting out the whole lot. I was in tears in minutes as she spoke. This woman I am here with today is my life now, and I love her with all my heart. I would throw down my life for her. She spoke about the tattoos she’d had with my name on her butt. She openly talked about our passion in the bedroom and a couple of times my face was a fiery red.
When she finished, Joan asked me how it felt to be loved and adored in such a way. I didn’t have any trouble articulating my mutual feelings for Jane.
Then my head dropped forward in a sadness I could never have seen coming. “Someday, I may have to choose.” I blurted out. A painful silence fell in the room, then, “no, fuck it, I don’t have to choose, I never will.”
“Good girl,” was all Joan said.
She let us talk, Jane and I, until our session ended. We met up with Hugo at the door as we came out the building and he hailed us a cab to take us back to our hotel. We’d booked a small suite to make it easier for us to stay in the same room.
I sent Jane out to get me some things and then begged Hugo to take me back to France. He’d got two weeks extra leave, and I no longer want to be in England. I’d told my mother I wasn’t well and couldn’t see her on this trip back home, at least half of it was true.
I explained to my sister what was happening – we’d made a promise to always tell each other the truth. She was in Switzerland and said she’d travel to our home in France and wait for me. Hugo made calls and ended up borrowing his brother’s car and drove us back, with Jane holding me in the back seat for 16 hours straight as Hugo drove.
It was Thursday, by the time we were back at my villa, and my vision hadn’t improved, so the call was made to Sophie, my doctor in France. I’d not seen her as a patient since Doctor Hugo came on the scene and I was somewhat guilty of having dumped her for another.
Sophie and I have been friends for a good number of years. We got off on the wrong foot the first time I saw her – which I apologized for and continue to do so to this day – but since then we have been really great friends and spend time out socially. She doesn’t pull any punches, and it was Hugo who insisted I see her. According to him I don’t listen to what he has to say. Holy shit when did that happen? I hang off his every word like a teenage girl with a popstar.
Sophie finished her shift and made it over to us in time for dinner. I told her this was going to be a tough one – she would get to find out more about me, us and the way we live our lives – more than ever before. Unfortunately, I would not be able to fully gauge her reaction.
My sister hugged me from the seat behind mine, and so it began, our September evening where the truth came out.
A human reaction to everything that was happening in my head. How did Hugo feel about sharing me with Jane, not just as a one-off, but fully, as part of our lives? Or Jane being part of Hugo’s life? We were living in the moment, or at least that was what I was telling them. In my own mind, I was making plans for the future, plans which involved them both, decisions made on their behalf without their permission or involvement. Yeah sure we all make decisions for ourselves before letting others in, but this was double what it should have been. I have two other halves, and I was manipulating the situation and them!
I was the one in the wrong. Not that anyone else could be blamed.
I was taking control to a whole new level, and in the back of my mind, my integrity, my belief in the good person inside me was at odds with the new life choices I was making for them. To me, I was pushing the three of us to limits no one should be pushed to, and I knew it couldn’t last.
More choices soon will equal fewer choices. Too many options will ultimately create a point which triggers a diminishing return when it comes to your mental health. A cluttered mind is not a happy one.
Everything Sophie spoke about was true, it was if she was reading my mind and I found myself saying, yes, to every sentence she spoke. She was right. Every point she made, even down to the smallest level, I agreed with and knew it to be right. She just had to say it, and then it was another brick being rebuilt in my wall of support.
She asked to see my laptop and Jane turned it on for me and handed it to her. She had a case similar to mine just less than a year ago, and then she explained what she was doing as she opened file after file and Internet browser, windows and then others. She asked Jane to continue for her and kept talking as the computer slowed and eventually froze, having crashed with too much Ram data being used.
She asked me what I thought had happened to me and I knew the answer as soon as she started the demonstration. My brain was the computer, the thoughts, planning, scheming, stress, and worry of Hugo, Jane, and I was the many opening windows and programs, and my system crash was my loss of eyesight.
The next day provided a massive improvement. I could see, but my eyes hurt and so I continued wearing sunglasses, even through the evening. Jane fussed over me the whole time and also told Hugo off when she thought he was fussing too much. Talk about the pot calling the kettle black! I love them both, and I’ll take all the smothering they can offer.
Hugo and Jane insisted that I not use my computer or laptop for another two weeks, and for Jane to be my eyes for a limited 20-minutes a day on social media. She would also help me send any emails and write for me for one hour a day. A strict diet and a complete purge on anything else where my eyes would be at risk.
Then I was to confess all my inward plans, those I had for the two of them. Half of these were a little embarrassing and others a little too erotic to ignore, so I had them play them out. I love to watch, especially now I have my eyesight back!
“It’s not a daily increase, but a daily decrease. Hack away at the inessentials.” – Bruce Lee
Limit non-essential everyday choices. Limiting clothing and food choices can make a difference. I already have a great habit of going to a restaurant and knowing what I want to order after scanning the menu for less than a minute, a little time-saving hack Joan taught me some years ago.
Before, I would stand in front of my wardrobe for at least 30-minutes wondering what to wear and then spend over an hour trying on outfits I just know I’m not going to wear, which was just another overload process. Now, I open the closet just like the menu, decide what to wear within a minute, get dressed and move on.
Another information overload, TV news, gossip, reality programs and pointless TV. No more.
Social media. Well, I have a choice between this and another habit, so the jury is still out.
One thing I will never give up on is my writing. It’s here to stay.