I have had good intentions of writing a number of happy posts about stuff I've been up to or pictures I've taken. I'm really conscious that all things considered I have a lot to be thankful for and I do try to look at things in a positive light. But I just haven't managed to engender enough enthusiasm to write things down lately.
Three years ago, my ailing marriage of 25 years fell apart. Spectacularly quickly in the end. No rows, no major drama, lots of tears and sadness. I moved out to give us breathing space and time to think and that was that. Its not that there is anything to regret really - we met very young and had some great years growing up together and enjoying seeing three wonderful sons turn into capable, caring men. So how is it, that three years on the odd thing can still completely floor me? Today, I inadvertently wrote his name in a Christmas card. I guess its habit of a lifetime, best part of 30 years as a 'unit' when I always wrote all the cards. Now I don't know how to sign them - just me, me and the boys, me and the youngest who is still living at home? When do you stop adding everyone's names? I put it off as long as I can each year and then the conventional part of me kicks in, spurred by the looming 'last posting date'. What struck me today was how ridiculous it is that every year I write cards to people I haven't seen for years (but feel connected to because we shared friendship at some stage and I still want to maintain that connection - I still like to hear what they're doing) and yet the man that I lived with for all those years and who, despite divorce (and all the anguish that brings), I will always be connected to because we have children (they're still our kids, even grown up) I can't speak to, or see at all or even send a Christmas card to.
He, of course, is completely entitled to move on in whichever way he feels best and if (as is the case) he wishes to have no contact with me at all that's his prerogative. We forgot how to care for each other in the last few years together and I'm not sure we could make each other happy any longer. From what the boys say he is much happier now - he's living a life he never wanted to do when he was with me and I'm glad he's been able to do that. But I can't shake off this feeling that it should be possible to be on friendly terms. How can you want to pretend half your life never happened? I value those years - even the tricky ones - we learned about life together, we share special memories of our children that no-one else can quite relate to in the same way, we became the people we are at least in part because of each other. I wish we were still able to enjoy sharing things the boys are doing.
Mostly, I feel ok about life. I keep busy, probably too busy, and things tick along. But I think I'm just treading water. I don't know how make forward progress. And just now and again, like today, I think I'm drowning.