I haven’t written for a while. There is a reason for this – having written an intensely personal blog (which is content protected – sorry to those who don’t have the password!) I felt that I was ok with blogging for a while. There literally wasn’t anything to get out of my head or anything that was important enough to write down.
Ok, that’s not strictly true. I’ve been going through some stuff and I needed to go through it, rather than blog about it.
It has been easy to be upbeat and positive about the end of my marriage as things had been so oppressive, so miserable for such a long time that the relief at having the house to myself, to have autonomy, to not be criticised for every tiny thing I did/said/wore etc was overwhelming.
The first weeks were great! The boys settled very well, Stu and I got into a routine with the boys and life went on. There were good days and bad days but that’s life.
I first noticed it with a friend on Whatsapp, we had a ‘niggling’ conversation on which we couldn’t agree. It’s not only about something that happened 4 years ago, it’s also not at all important. But I was saying black, he was saying white. It went on and on. Considering there’s an 8 hour time difference between us, this one really should have been let go and yet I couldn’t. He stuck to his side of things and I stuck to mine.
Then one day I realised. It wasn’t about the difference of opinion (and for those of you who know me, you’ll know I find this exceptionally hard to say but…….. it worked out in the end that he was right and I was wrong) I was hiding behind this argument, niggling away at it because I was avoiding other issues. I did this for a while trying to cover up what the issues were or maybe with different tactics and then the weekend before last I drove to Oxford to see one of my best friends and ended up having a completely weepy time of it. There it was. What I’d been hiding from. Honestly? I don’t even know what I’m so sad about! I’m not sad about the end of my marriage, if anything I’m sad that I stayed so fucking long. Put up with being treated so badly, on and on, day in, day out.
Every time I get a bit weepy (and interestingly it tends to be with a different person), it’s for a different reason and I’m sure we haven’t even exhausted all the reasons yet but in my defence I often don’t know about them until they’re there, falling from my eyes and starting to heal. It’s a slow process.
What I do know is that the only person who can deal with this, the only person who can help me and the only person who can go through it, is me. I do feel that I’m starting to climb over the wall and look forward to landing, hopefully in one piece, on the other side.