What changed me. #1

2013, a year to remember for me. It was Wednesday January 16. I had just landed back in Luton airport near London after 3 days at a particular Polish airport that will remain nameless due to quite difficult industrial relations that led me recommend deep staffing cuts and reorganisation of the operation. Made me very popular there needless to say. But that aside, I was extreamly stressed out. The joys of management consultancy. You also have to take into account that being a woman is pressure enough, then add on the eastern european tag and even worse still the fact that I am Romanian. This in itself carrys massive stigma. The only people that encounter more problems than Romanians are Russians. So when you have that burdon on your sholders, the fact that you have had to fight twice as hard to get where you are than anyone else, you certainly dont need to find your husband in your bed fucking the neighbourhood whore from 2 doors down. It was not just that. But so many things went through my head in the intervening few hours. Being miss perfect, having the good job the good husband, the big car, nice adorable k**, the fashion, for all intensive purposes had everything I had worked for and wished for all my life, overcoming prejudices of the type which I already slightly touched on, it was all fucking just perfect. The only little indulgence I allow myself was my one nose piercing that I got when I was 12, but i generally had it out during working hours as I was always conscious of the image I had to portray. Then I come home, my home and I find my perfect husband doing that in my bed with that bitch. Wow, I was ever so slightly miffed. That night I stayed at a hotel. It was a long night. But I think I was amazingly focused considering now I was freaking out. At 8.23am I calmly paid my boss a little visit and told him I was quitting. He was friends although distant to my husband, so I am pretty sure he had notice of what had unfolded the previous afternoon. But I still had the keys to my company BMW that I duly used to venture home...opps...yes it was once home, but no longer. Gathering what I could into 6 bags and cases, my life was upside down and little more than 15 hours had passed since my discovery. I took what I could take in the time I had, got my son and just left, never to return. Was this extream. I have to agree it was. But this was not the first time. I smelled her perfume in my bed many times before, teasing my senses, poking fun at my faithfulness. It was time to take a stand. I did and it was extreme. But the journey to the rail station is a blank I know I did but it still is a blank in my memory. I know I gave the car keys to the homeless guy I would ritualy pass him every day on my visits to the city and yet he went virtually unnoticed till now. But this was an end game.a new dawn had arrived. One without any future or at least I had not though out what was step number 2. Very odd for me and what was a very regimented and orderly life. So began a big self re examination on that short train journey to London. Would I change it, the answer nearly a year later is no.