A friend, well actually a friend who is also the wife of his barber, came round last night to give me some bones for the dog. I haven’t seen her for quite a while because we used to meet each other on the occasional times that I went to his Friday morning yoga. I’m not doing that class at the moment, haven’t been since America, and I have no idea if I will again.
Kay handed over a big bag of bones and a very excited dog soon had a treat while she and I stood to chat. She’d heard, He’d actually told someone! She was so sad, had cried at the news. “Do you not think you could have him back and make it work?’ she said, with sorrow and concern in her voice.
‘It wasn’t me’ I said.
She looked shocked. I could take it as flattery I suppose. We talked. The ‘do you think he’s having a mid-life crisis’ comment was used.
But now we’re getting a little space between us, a little time to start the healing, I’m starting to make a bit of sense of things. Not of why he wanted to leave, I don’t think even he is sure of that. But of why it will be ok.
I’m not panicking about money, so the pressure is off there. I have spent two months without the daughter about and have found that I haven’t really missed her as much as I thought. I’ve eaten well, walked the dog every morning without any trouble at all. Been busy, seen lots of friends, generally got on with things. I’ve taken it all in my stride – mostly.
So, I wonder slightly, whether I waited until I was ready to make the change.
We’d had wobbles over the years, who doesn’t. But they were always the same thing. They’d start with a mood, an atmosphere. I’d ask the ‘are you alright?’ type things. Eventually we’d have an emotional talk with a ‘I’m not sure I wan’t to be in this relationship’ thrown in the mix. It was a killer. I remember the first time it happened and it cut me to the core. But then it would all go away. We’d be happy again. Work together, get along. Until a couple of years later.
Each time a kick in the head. Actually the stomach would be more accurate. That’s what it felt like. But when we sat down the last time, my stomach churning but not so much, I knew that all those wobbles that had amounted to this moment, when I made the decision. Not to keep putting it all back together, patching it up and trying to make it work. But to let go.
So maybe it really was me.
Can We Do This Well? 