Firstly, my apologies for not blogging for a while. I haven’t had access to the internet and every spare minute has been spent packing as I prepared to move to a new home. After looking at what seemed like a hundred and one different rental properties, I was lucky enough to secure a lovely little unit in South Perth, near to the water and in a nice, quiet neighbourhood. It’s not cheap to rent but I am hoping I can afford it if I am careful with my money and don’t go on too many shopping sprees. For the area it’s in and the condition of the complex and unit itself, I got a bargain. It will be good practice for when (and if) I decide to buy a place in the next couple of years.
So how do I feel about living alone, leaving my marriage and starting all over? It depends on the day. Sometimes it is such a relief to come home and do whatever I want to do. If I want to go to bed at 7pm, I can. If I want to stay up until midnight watching “Snog, Marry, Avoid”, I can. If I want to have soup for dinner three nights in a row, I can do that. Toast can be a meal. I don’t have to do the dishes if I don’t feel like it. I don’t have to make my bed or worry about my hair getting everywhere (it does – I have a lot of hair…) or feel bad about not being a good house-keeper. I can leave my shoes out and the only one who will trip over them is me. I can have the whole couch to myself and the bed too. I can play Stevie Wonder over and over again. I don’t have anyone to answer to or feel responsible to, other than myself.
But none of that makes up for the fact there is no one to say Goodnight to. No one to make cups of tea for. No one to ask “What do you want for dinner?” No one to cuddle up to when it’s cold. No one to share my day with or complain to. I need a cat. Seriously.
I miss being held. I miss the sound of his breathing at night. He used to laugh in his sleep and I miss that too. I miss holding his hand and kissing him goodbye in the morning. I miss being important to someone. I miss having someone to tell me I look good today or that I am doing a good job or that I am perfect just the way I am. But then he hasn’t said those things to me for a long time anyway.
And of course I have people to tell me I am ok as I am. Lots of people. I am so lucky that way. I have friends and family and workmates who care about me and love me. And I am grateful every second of every day for their support and kindness. But, being human, I want more. I guess that’s greedy but I hope I will be forgiven for wanting just one more person.
But I know I do not have him any more. He is so much happier now and although I am glad, it breaks my heart that he is that much happier without me. I try to think “It’s just one of those things that happen…”people grow apart, people change, needs and wants change and shift. But I guess I didn’t think it would happen to us. Or me.
I am being self-indulgent and I apologise (again). I am getting by and being independent and trying to just be mature and sensible and think of all the good things I have and how lucky I am. I am lucky. I have a roof over my head and food on the table. I have a safe place to sleep and people to check up on me and make sure I am ok. I have a job and reasonably good health, all things considered, and I live in a quiet, pretty neighbourhood, walking distance from the river. I have some money in the bank and all of it is mine. I am lucky.
But for now I am also sad and a bit lost and unsure about what my life is meant to be. The marriage wasn’t working for either of us and I couldn’t have stayed in it, even if he had wanted me to. He changed and became someone else and I can’t help but think I was partly responsible for that. Which is stupid and dumb and I would slap anyone silly if they said that to me about themselves. But it eats away at me – the thought that I was so awful to live with that he turned into someone else and was so miserable and couldn’t wait to get away from me. Ugh. I’ve turned into one of those women. The kind that blames themselves for their husband’s bad behaviour and choices. I am rolling my eyes at myself right now.
I know I am not responsible for what he feels or what he does. I know that. But the scared, insecure me wants to put the blame somewhere and that somewhere is me. Because I don’t know how else to deal with it.
So, for now, it probably best that I am not blogging regularly. I don’t want every post to be about me pining away for someone who doesn’t love me. Someone who wasn’t even nice to me or kind (in the end). Someone who took me for granted and belittled me and made me feel like nothing. So pathetic. I don’t want that to be something I put out into the Universe. That is not an image I want to portray. If I had a daughter I would not want her reading that or taking that in. But at the end of the day I am human and imperfect. I cannot help loving who I love. When I care about someone, it is forever and so I have a ways to go before I let go. But I will. And I hope you will be there and stay with me and put up with my self-indulgent wallowing a little bit longer.
I hope that you are happy. And if you’re not, have faith that you will be again. The sun will shine and the clouds will part and you’ll be ok. And I know I will too.