It's been a while.
I have to say it's not because i don’t have things to write about... I have a huge amount to write about. It's because the things i do have to write about are fairly personal, and, well, probably some of them are slightly tactless, so I thought it was probably better to shut up for a bit. I thought I’d cover the lot on one post, then we can move on, rather like dealing with an aged, sour, vocally pissed aunt at Christmas.
I have previously written about my marriage, the struggles; highs and lows; the love; the change that a relationship goes through when it morphs from the heady, syrupy honeymoon period into the long term and bound union that so many women, and I used to include myself in there, think is the end goal: marriage. In February last year I decided that I no longer wanted to be in my marriage. I’m not going to go into the reasoning here, but it was a decision made after months if not a couple of years of agonising. In the 12 months since I left my husband I have learned a lot, changed quite a lot (not necessarily all for the better), but nobody said that uprooting what was in reality a fairly easy, and on the face of it content, existence, was ever going to be an easy ride.
10 Things amongst many more that I have learnt in the last 12 months.
1.
I never really considered the institution of marriage
and what it meant to me until after I’d taken part in the ceremony. Awkward,
especially as once I had considered it, I was fairly certain and alarmed fairly
early on, that it was not right for me. I fought against that certainty for as
long as possible, but in the end I couldn’t ignore it. This is definitely not
the ideal thing to do, and I urge you to really investigate what being married
means to a) you b) your partner and c) your girlfriends, before you get into
it. Really. Do that. Maybe I’m the fool for not, but I just assumed that
marriage was, well, the thing you do. It’s the next stage, right? I now know
that I actually don’t want to be married. To anyone. Ever again. It’s just… not
my bag. Marriage does not equate love, and therefore love does not have to end
in marriage. But this, of course, is only my opinion for what I think. Everyone
else – do whatever makes you happy, and if marriage and a wedding is that, then
crack on.
2.
Couples therapy is probably one of the most harrowing
experiences to go through if you are 100% sure that you know that you’ve made
the right decision in leaving your partner, and the therapy essentially
consists of the other two people in the room trying to persuade you that you
are wrong. It is also a very expensive way to frustrate yourself. All that
considered, it is 100% necessary as a vehicle for getting your ex to fully
comprehend how serious you are about your decision to end things.
3.
Even if you are the one deciding to do the leaving, you
will be deeply saddened by the end of your relationship. Probably silly, but that
came as a shock to me.
4.
Your friends divide. Amazing people come out of the
woodwork – people who you didn’t even think you were that close to, will rally
round you and make you cry with laughter, and will be indignant with rage on
your behalf while you mutter “Seriously, it’s fine…”, or hug you hard while you weep with sadness.
It’s unnerving and wonderful. Others will look uncomfortable and frown. They look
worried and essentially tell you that you are wrong, in the nicest way possible.
Ultimately, you need to be confident enough in what you are doing to defend
your decision and accept that not everyone will think you are doing the right
thing. If you still think that it is the right decision when your longest
standing friends and loved ones are telling you it is the worst thing you’ve
ever decided to do (worse than deciding to marry the wrong person in the first
place) then you can almost certainly be sure that you are making a choice that
is good for you in the long run. They just can’t see it yet, and don’t
necessarily understand what good and happiness for you means.
5.
One day at a time, and you have to remember to breathe.
There will be up days there will be low days, embrace and understand that all
of the emotional fluxes are natural and ok. I am well aware that I sound like
some kind of kaftan wearing, weed smoking, crazed hippy when I say this, but it’s
true. Also, it may be because I learned this from my new found friends at my
yoga class. These guys have been a constant source of strength, even when we don’t
see each other for months at a time. Total babes.
6.
Make your world smaller for a while, while you survive
for a bit. You have to pinpoint the important things and throw yourself into
them as best you can, or it can all go horribly wrong.
7.
Focus on work. In the year I left my husband I worked (and
played – more on that next) harder, faster, better, longer than ever before,
got to work on two awesome projects, and ultimately got the promotion I’d been
working towards for 18 months. Nothing like a bit of soul sorrow to focus the
mind on your job.
8.
Drink and drugs are not the answer. Partying is fun; drinking
is fun. It is completely understandable that when people feel “free” for the
first time in years they go a little bit hell for leather. However, being a mum
that drinks like a fish most of the time and takes drugs sometimes, is to say
the least frowned upon or tolerated by your fellow partiers, and at most
investigated by social services. The “everything in moderation mantra” can
quickly and easily spiral to everything in a bit more than moderation, til you
seem permanently hungover and grumpy, a shadow of your former self when you’re
not drunk/high, and people are bitching about you, and probably rightfully, questioning
your abilities as a parent. Finally you realise the gravity of what’s going on
when family members are crying at you, not quite saying out loud, “JUST STOP DRINKING
A BOTTLE OF RED PLUS A NIGHT, AND HOOFING THE CHARLIE, OK?!” but making obvious
insinuations about you “poisoning your body with toxinS”. I’ve had my fun. I’m
not particularly proud of some of the stuff I’ve done on my non-parenting time,
but when you finally make a conscious decision to stop all that crap, it’s like
a fog lifts, the scales shift and suddenly the really 100% important stuff,
like your family, your house being a non-hovel, fitness, baking, reading books
that make you guffaw on the tube, finally getting your glasses sorted… all the
stuff that makes life lovely and what it is… is actually important again. Much more important that “Who can I get
blitzed with this evening?”.
9.
Self-awareness is difficult when you’re in a period of
gross transition and fogged with toxinS, and you have to be kind to yourself,
and accept that.
10. If
you can stay on good terms with your ex then do. I am lucky enough that my ex
and I get on pretty well now. 12 months on, after a disastrously harrowing and
tense yet hilarious (in a, if you don’t laugh you will most definitely cry
yourself to DEATH kind of way) holiday to northern Spain, screaming at each
other down the phone, endless tearful conversations about our polarised views
of our now historical relationship, we are in a place where there is mutual
respect and cooperation. We keep it together for our beautiful and wonderful
son. We had Christmas together this year, we took him to Peppa Pig world on the
august bank holiday (FYI NEVER DO THAT – 3 hours queues, and more people per
square metre than the Saturday at Glastonbury, but 50% of the crowd are under
3. NIGHTMARE) and spent our boy’s birthday together. We are feeling our way
towards an essentially forlorn but friendly co-parenting situation. It’s not
easy, but if you can achieve being able to spend time together then you 100%
should aim for it.
I could go on, for ages actually – I have learned
other stuff, like I have an uncanny ability to get parking tickets, no matter
what I do to try to stop them. I have learned to use a power drill and how to
date (badly) again…But the above 10 points cover the most important lessons I’ve
learned in the past 12 months. Here’s to an equally insightful, hopefully
happier 2013.
