We are not moving in for 10 days yet, I can't wait to make it home. Yet we have been so happy in our rented house, it is going to be difficult to match.
A new phase. How on earth did I get here? I really don't recall.
Thursday, March 31, 2011
A new sort of Suburbia
After over 2 years, I have reached the end of the tunnel, I think, I hope. I was not sure I'd ever make it. Today I picked up the keys to our new house. Today it is officially mine. It feels strange, almost an anticlimax, so long in the planning, yet all of a sudden it came before I was ready.
We are not moving in for 10 days yet, I can't wait to make it home. Yet we have been so happy in our rented house, it is going to be difficult to match.
A new phase. How on earth did I get here? I really don't recall.
We are not moving in for 10 days yet, I can't wait to make it home. Yet we have been so happy in our rented house, it is going to be difficult to match.
A new phase. How on earth did I get here? I really don't recall.
Friday, March 25, 2011
Love (Part 3) and war
This week I have bought curtains and lampshades for our new house. Contracts have, at last, been exchanged and we move within 4 weeks!
Along with the curtains, I bought Tall Girl a little present for her new room, some wooden letters joined together, just like the ones here, spelling out the word 'love'. She was delighted when I gave it to her.
As an aside; we have a set of gold letters that belong in the living room and say the same thing, only they are not joined so can be 'fiddled with', often spelling Olive; with the slim side of a matchbox intervening as the letter 'i'. Very funny - you know who you are...
As an aside; we have a set of gold letters that belong in the living room and say the same thing, only they are not joined so can be 'fiddled with', often spelling Olive; with the slim side of a matchbox intervening as the letter 'i'. Very funny - you know who you are...
Anyway, a little later on I picked up Small Sprog from school. The letters were still in the car. I opened the door and he jumped in, picked up the word and said 'Hey! I really like this'
'Gosh' I thought 'Maybe he really is in touch with his feminine side'
'Look' He says brandishing the word at me upside-down, holding on firmly to the capital 'L'. 'It makes a great gun'!
Shame he is a bit too young to understand the word 'Ironic'
Wednesday, March 23, 2011
Love (part 2) Depression
She was in a state, shaking and trying not to cry. I take it all in, the whole scene, knowing that this is not right, not 'normal' behaviour. I tell her to take some big breaths, relax, slow down.
'But I get like this a lot now Billy'
That's what she calls me, Billy.
'I had to phone the bank the other day, they wanted some information and I couldn't find it and I got myself into such a state and started shaking and...'
She breaks down. I hate to see her like this but I've seen it before. It can start like this, I think to myself. And I hope I am wrong.
We were trying to book a holiday on line. The place she had set her heart on was not available, however her next choice was so we booked it immediately. It was all too much for her. The disappointment of loosing her first choice, (to me seemed totally out of proportion) the quickness of booking on line.
What makes it worse, my step father makes it unbearably clear, albeit with a stealthy delivery, that he would really rather stay at home. He says he wishes she had booked somewhere further east (we are talking Devon/Dorset border here rather than 'The Far East') She wishes he was more enthusiastic, they never go away together. The sadness of the situation slowly creeps under my skin, like a sort of osmosis, a passive process; I have felt it before.
Before I was married and had a family I remember her sitting on a dinning chair in my living room saying that she had nothing left to live for. There have been times when I have wanted to point out, since then, how much she would have missed; two grandchildren for a start. But when I look at her today, I do wonder whether a half life is good enough (perhaps she was right after all), whether the half life has made her this way. And while I think it, in my selfish 'only child' way, I wonder if I am seeing myself 30 years down the line. Will I be like this woman, so easily pushed off key? I recognise so many of her traits in myself. Will age make me weak and unsure, doubtful and depressed?
She sent an email this morning, I read it in the car. It made me cry, for her not myself. ...'Just a bit 'down' about the holiday...wish he was more enthusiastic.. wish we'd used my credit card so I could cancel it...I suppose I'll get used to it.. have been feeling a bit depressed lately and this seems like the last straw...' That was when I realised it was real, no one feels sad about a holiday that they have longed to book.
I have persuaded her to go to the Dr next week. Hopefully she'll get pills, they worked the last time. It takes 2 weeks before you feel any better. Yet I am convinced that to be loved and cherished would work just as well, my love is not enough, it is not that sort of love that she has been deprived of for so long. No, it is the love of a good man that could have made her life so much more full. Love and kindness. She is 77 this year.
My Mum
Unloved
'But I get like this a lot now Billy'
That's what she calls me, Billy.
'I had to phone the bank the other day, they wanted some information and I couldn't find it and I got myself into such a state and started shaking and...'
She breaks down. I hate to see her like this but I've seen it before. It can start like this, I think to myself. And I hope I am wrong.
We were trying to book a holiday on line. The place she had set her heart on was not available, however her next choice was so we booked it immediately. It was all too much for her. The disappointment of loosing her first choice, (to me seemed totally out of proportion) the quickness of booking on line.
What makes it worse, my step father makes it unbearably clear, albeit with a stealthy delivery, that he would really rather stay at home. He says he wishes she had booked somewhere further east (we are talking Devon/Dorset border here rather than 'The Far East') She wishes he was more enthusiastic, they never go away together. The sadness of the situation slowly creeps under my skin, like a sort of osmosis, a passive process; I have felt it before.
Before I was married and had a family I remember her sitting on a dinning chair in my living room saying that she had nothing left to live for. There have been times when I have wanted to point out, since then, how much she would have missed; two grandchildren for a start. But when I look at her today, I do wonder whether a half life is good enough (perhaps she was right after all), whether the half life has made her this way. And while I think it, in my selfish 'only child' way, I wonder if I am seeing myself 30 years down the line. Will I be like this woman, so easily pushed off key? I recognise so many of her traits in myself. Will age make me weak and unsure, doubtful and depressed?
She sent an email this morning, I read it in the car. It made me cry, for her not myself. ...'Just a bit 'down' about the holiday...wish he was more enthusiastic.. wish we'd used my credit card so I could cancel it...I suppose I'll get used to it.. have been feeling a bit depressed lately and this seems like the last straw...' That was when I realised it was real, no one feels sad about a holiday that they have longed to book.
I have persuaded her to go to the Dr next week. Hopefully she'll get pills, they worked the last time. It takes 2 weeks before you feel any better. Yet I am convinced that to be loved and cherished would work just as well, my love is not enough, it is not that sort of love that she has been deprived of for so long. No, it is the love of a good man that could have made her life so much more full. Love and kindness. She is 77 this year.
My Mum
Unloved
There but for the Grace of God go I
Monday, March 21, 2011
Love (part 1) She loves me, She loves me not
'Why does my hair only look good on a non-school day?' She lamented this weekend, whilst admiring herself in the vanity mirror (well named) on the passenger side sun shield.
Sometimes life's just so unfair, isn't it?!
She's at that age when mood swings can vary by the minute. I can be a very much loved Mummy one minute, or the worst person in the whole world the next, sometimes it's hard to keep up, or play the part, whichever is required at the time!
But no matter how bad it gets she never swears at me, nor I her. I had never really thought about it before, I mean I would not ever expect either of these things to happen. Yet she mentioned it one day, that she was glad we were not 'that sort of family'. I am glad too, glad we don't and glad she has noticed that what we all have is much too precious to treat with indifference.
Tuesday, March 15, 2011
3 years and 11 days...
...Since I started writing here.
I started my blog 3 years ago this month, after hearing Petite Anglaise interviewed on Women's Hour. The next day I wrote my first post; I became totally absorbed. It wasn't long before I spent most evenings in front of the PC. Without knowing it, I had already chosen another life
My marriage had become pretty empty anyway, worn down by bringing up 2 children, having left my career to have them and leaving my happy-go-lucky self behind with my resignation letter. Not that it was the children's fault, and I certainly wouldn't ever be without them. I could say my husband was selfish and stopped me having much of a life, he certainly restricted my aspirations, but I was guilty of letting it come to that I suppose. I was living a half life, had slipped into it almost without thought.
It wasn't long before I began to get frequent readers on my blog. The same people who came back over and over again. I read their lives, they read mine and slowly they became virtual friends. I knew more about them than my real friends, such is the nature of blogging and I very much needed their friendship. I suddenly realised how lonely I'd been in my suburban half-life. (I have met several of those bloggers in the real world since then, and it has been satisfying to find that they are the same in real life as they appear to be virtually.)
I started my blog 3 years ago this month, after hearing Petite Anglaise interviewed on Women's Hour. The next day I wrote my first post; I became totally absorbed. It wasn't long before I spent most evenings in front of the PC. Without knowing it, I had already chosen another life
My marriage had become pretty empty anyway, worn down by bringing up 2 children, having left my career to have them and leaving my happy-go-lucky self behind with my resignation letter. Not that it was the children's fault, and I certainly wouldn't ever be without them. I could say my husband was selfish and stopped me having much of a life, he certainly restricted my aspirations, but I was guilty of letting it come to that I suppose. I was living a half life, had slipped into it almost without thought.
It wasn't long before I began to get frequent readers on my blog. The same people who came back over and over again. I read their lives, they read mine and slowly they became virtual friends. I knew more about them than my real friends, such is the nature of blogging and I very much needed their friendship. I suddenly realised how lonely I'd been in my suburban half-life. (I have met several of those bloggers in the real world since then, and it has been satisfying to find that they are the same in real life as they appear to be virtually.)
Not long after starting to write I found another blogger who lived in the same city, a man, younger than me. He blogged about ridiculously funny and blokey things, having started his blog after ending a short relationship. His blog always made me laugh. Within weeks we read each others lives every day.
During this time we were only communicating in the 'comments' section of our blogs. He always left a witty remark or a caring comment. Within about 3 months we emailed each other directly, about nothing in particular, yet there was a feeling, an excitement every time I opened my mail and saw his name. Within in 4 months we 'Google chatted' daily. I was addicted, to blogging, chatting and the man! I was no longer lonely. I felt as though my life was slowly beginning again, I was alive, had forgotten how it felt.
I had fallen for words alone, how easy it had been.
Almost nine months after starting my blog we arranged to meet for coffee, harmless enough between friends, or so we told ourselves. It was a strange meeting, as with other bloggers, we already knew so much about each other. It seemed like we'd known each other for a very long time, were asking each other about events and people we'd written about, yet we had never met in the real world. It was 2 weeks before Christmas. On the 2nd January, less than a month later, I told my Husband I wanted to leave him. That was 27 months ago.
I had fallen for words alone, how easy it had been.
Almost nine months after starting my blog we arranged to meet for coffee, harmless enough between friends, or so we told ourselves. It was a strange meeting, as with other bloggers, we already knew so much about each other. It seemed like we'd known each other for a very long time, were asking each other about events and people we'd written about, yet we had never met in the real world. It was 2 weeks before Christmas. On the 2nd January, less than a month later, I told my Husband I wanted to leave him. That was 27 months ago.
My divorce came through last month. I don't blog daily any more, mostly through lack of time and I do miss writing and visiting you, my virtual friends.
It has been a long and traumatic journey which is almost over. Yet at the same time there has been a wonderful and exciting new life unfolding almost daily, one that I never thought I'd have a chance to reach for, let alone attain. I don't regret any of it, but I still find it hard to believe it all happened by a chance listening to Womans Hour in the car, on the way to visit my Mum and an unexpected and innocent meeting in the 'comments section' on my blog.
Three years and eleven days ago I had no idea what life would bring, resigned to the mundane and predictable life of being with someone who didn't love me any more. Yet for almost three years and eleven days there has been a sub plot waiting to emerge. Five Hundred and Fifty five posts later, who knows what will happen next?
Three years and eleven days ago I had no idea what life would bring, resigned to the mundane and predictable life of being with someone who didn't love me any more. Yet for almost three years and eleven days there has been a sub plot waiting to emerge. Five Hundred and Fifty five posts later, who knows what will happen next?
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