Tuesday, 12 July 2011
"Living well is the best revenge," according to George Herbert.
I’m not there yet. It may take some time, but I will, one day, before too long. I hope.
Those of you who know me know I've been here before, and from a previous post will see I’m rather a master of resilience and overcoming adversity. Thankfully, this time it doesn't feel quite so much like it's the end of my world. I know I'll survive. It’s what I do best, and boy, after everything I've had in the last year - in the words of Monty Python, 'Tis but a meagre scratch.'
I jest. Oh, that what I’m going to go through in the next few months would be quite so painless. I’m all too aware, after twenty-two years with someone, this is going to hurt.
I don’t want to put on the worldwide web the innermost details of my personal life. You'll understand and read between the lines. Suffice to say; over the last two weeks my life has crumbled, and it’s nothing to do with cancer…
But hey, I have the best friends and family a girl could wish for - and you good folks - although I know you'll forgive me for saying that despite all this wonderful support, I can be in a roomful of people, yet still feel like the loneliest person in the world.
The reason for this is because I lost my truest, bestest friend about six or seven years ago. We never truly recovered first time round. It's not all his fault. I played my part, and I appreciate I've never been quite the same since. Then last year, with my jaw problems, I know I was a grumpy bitch being in pain. And this year with the cancer scare (although happily it turns out I'm simply a menopausal old bag.) What I'm trying to say is I know all the things I did wrong. It's just that I always believed we had a love that was so special, it would conquer anything.
But I see now, sometimes, love alone is not enough. Naively, I believed the amazing friendship we’d had (and overcome everything thus far) would win through every time. I presumed it was a deep bond that only soul mates have. I took that for granted. Our friendship wasn’t enough.
I wasn’t enough…
I’m not often wrong about affairs of the heart. I was this time. However, I gave it my best, for the sake of me, and my children. Even writing this I'm pricked by the knowledge that if I hadn't have had children, I might have made different decisions a few years ago and been through to the other side, onto a happier life by now.
I doubt it. I have no regrets. I truly loved my husband, with all my heart. I/We tried. It wasn’t to be, and perhaps, the one crumb of comfort I have to keep me warm at night in the vast space of bed beside me is that having been there before, I know I will get through this time even though it feels as if part of me has died. I don't have to go through the pain of giving him a second chances this time, no begging him to stay, fighting for him - none of the endless months of torture and heartache. Once I’m through the shock and initial panic of sorting out and unravelling twenty two years of marriage, I will bounce back in my usual, inimitable fashion. That doesn't stop me finding writing this hard, feeling so very sad, knowing how final things are and that my future will be alone. It's a good job I like my own company ;)
I’ve had so many people asking where I am. Thank you for caring. Those who knew what has happened have sent wonderful messages of support, and reading your comments on my last post, I felt I had to post this.
I’m not sure when I’ll surface again. I know I’ll miss the deadline for the RNA New Writer’s Scheme now. But I will most definitely be back…
Here's a quote I made up which maybe I should enter into the google archives:
"Don't despair when the person you love leaves you. The truth is, it's not your loss, but theirs, for they have left the only person who loves them unconditionally, and wouldn't have given up on them..."
See you when I see you
Until another day