Had a bit of a wobble yesterday. Not a huge wobble – but there was a point when I basically just wanted to cry, and not for any very obvious reason.
I didn’t cry – I was driving at the time – and when I got home there were things that needed to be done, and the moment passed.
But I woke up this morning feeling much the same. I’m normally happy to get out of bed and get on with it, but I just wasn’t feeling it this morning. I went to the gym, because I’d booked the session – but it was tough going. A total lack of bounce.
I actually took myself back to bed for an hour afterwards – I never do this!! And I slept, so I guess that means it was the right thing to do.
I’m off to work now – looking forward to it, as it’ll take my mind off whatever is troubling it. I don’t know what’s troubling it. I mean, there are lots of things to choose from, but I don’t know why it’s picked this particular moment to be troubled.
Funny thing, the brain. Everso clever, but not always good at explaining itself.
What could be bothering me? Well, obviously my husband left in February – but I’m OK with it, and used to it now.
I know I’ll eventually have to sell the house – but again, I’m pretty much resigned to that.
I know that I’ll have to eventually stop working in the business, but we have no plans for that at the moment.
Although I spent six months trying to get a job, I’ve got one now so that worry has been ticked off the list.
Molly the cat hasn’t been well – a bit listless over the weekend and when I took her to the vet a couple of days ago she was running a temperature. But an injection and a course of antibiotics have sorted her out, and she’s much more like herself now, so again I can tick that source of worry off the list.
I also spent six months trying to find a lodger, but I’ve found one now, and we’re getting along fine, no problems there.
So really, I should be feeling chipper.
I think a couple of conversations I’ve had recently have put me in this frame of mind. One was a bit of a reminiscence with a colleague, about people we were at school with. I said that one of my friends from school is now a brain surgeon (which is true), and she said, ‘And you’re working here’. It was said ironically, and not meant to hurt – but she had a point.
And another conversation was about retirement and how, once upon a time, I would have been expecting to retire in 14 months’ time, when I turn 60 – but now I have to continue until 67 (and what are the chances that the rules will change again before I even get to 67).
Let’s see what a breath of fresh air and a dose of working for a living will do for me. I’ll report back tonight when I get back in.
OK, feeling a bit more normal.
Coincidentally, while I was looking for something else, I came across this. I wrote it right back at the beginning of all this, just after he’d told me he was leaving, and long before I started blogging. Writing things down has always been a coping mechanism for me, a way of working out how I feel.
This is what I wrote –
Well, that was a strange old week.
This time last week, I sat down with my husband for the first proper conversation we’d had in far too long. It ended with us both in tears, a hug and, well – it ended.
There will be no recriminations, no vengeance, no nastiness, just a sadness that somehow, somewhere along the line, we got it wrong. The marriage is dying and the least we can do is put it out of its misery in a calm, sensitive, sensible and civilised manner.
And this is where things got strange. It was just after New Year – we still had visitors in the house. Visitors who couldn’t just go home, who had flights to catch, and a baby to feed, and stuff to sort out. So, we carried on as normal. We told them, and they admitted that they weren’t really all that surprised – and then we carried on as normal. We put food on the table, we had a drink, we played a couple of games, we had a laugh. In odd moments, when there was no-one around, we had snatched conversations about renting and bank accounts and our determination to be grown-up about it and who’ll have the cats.
So here I am. 58, and soon-to-be single for the first time since I was 19.
I see it as the beginning of something, not the end of something. To be melodramatic, I’m seeing it as the beginning of me. I’ve done some interesting stuff – but always in the shadow of a man. I want to know what this woman is capable of. If you’re feeling sorry for me – stop it. Stop it now.
It helped, finding that. Because nothing’s changed from when I wrote it. We’ve continued to be civilised about it, and I’m continuing to see it as the beginning of me. I’ll continue to do interesting stuff – but from now on I’ll not be in anyone’s shadow.
And I don’t want anyone to feel sorry for me, least of all me.
So, I’ve allowed myself a little bit of a wobble, had an extra chocolate biscuit, and splashed my face with cold water. And I’m getting back on with it.
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