I’m very…raw. At the moment.
Very alive, very awake, very alert. Seeing lots of things.
It’s almost like I’ve awoken after the motherfucker of all sleeps.
There are a number of reasons this has happened, some obvious, others not so, to an outsider. That works for me; I don’t want everything laid out bare. Not yet.
Over the last few days, I’ve had an overwhelming amount of support, more than I could ever have asked for. Beyond more than I hoped or dreamed. There are emails and messages and texts and what else, and I do want to reply to them all.
One of the greatest things I’ve been able to do lately, though, is remain strong. I’ve been fucking scared, TERRIFIED of the potential life in front of me; but then I had to ask myself WHY I was terrified. I did, and it turned out I didn’t need to be quite as terrified as I thought. I am strong, though I don’t always feel it. But I am. I’m sure I am.
I proved that to myself over the last few days. My heart has been absolutely all over the shop. Broken, cracked, repaired, plastered, healed, smashed, protected, bared – everything. And each time, I’m repairing it as fast as it gets dented. That’s hard. That’s tough. But I’ve found different ways to do it. Mostly, through what I’ve found in other people.
There’s a network of people – they don’t know who they are and I would rather not say for fear of changing the balance – whom have helped me in the most obscure ways possible. I haven’t always wanted internet hugs, sometimes I’ve needed other things. A laugh, a distraction, news, info, guidance, a boost. Those things. Things which are hard to come by from every-day people who don’t really understand.
I’ve found that, whilst they are being there for me, just being there for them helps me too. Maybe it’s the distraction, maybe it’s the self satisfaction, maybe it’s personal growth, I don’t know.
I feel everything that’s going on; my senses are like a fucking sponge, and I’m picking up everything. So when I wanted to let go of it all, when my heart and soul were pretty much done with everything, I spun it around and went for the exact opposite. I’ve held on, to life, friends, to people I need, and hope might need me. What’s down that new path I’m on? Fuck knows. I expect most of them will be gone, and I’ll be in different circles. That’s how social media dictates us these days.
But, y’know, just being there helps. Sometimes it’s all I want, sometimes it’s all I can give.
If more people could just do that, just be there, life would be pretty fucking cool, to be fair.
I’ve had this post playing in my mind for WAY longer than I would care for. And I’ve procrastinated about writing it, and then I procrastinated about what I would write, and then I went back to general procrastination, and then I procrastinated about writing it at all…
So I’ve come to a fork in the road.
It’s a sad fork, but I’ve been staring at it for a while.
Like, a long while.
Maybe nearly 2 years. Possibly longer.
This fork in the road, has only one possible choice for me, and 2 weeks ago, I put my foot, right there, on that path commonly known as Single Mom Of Two. I couldn’t take the other path, it wasn’t an option any more.
This one… It’s a weird path.
Bit dark. Well, there’s some light, but not much.
And it’s already lonely as fuck.
Way more lonely than when I was on the Path Made For Married People.
Thing is, we make out choices, and then we go through regret, and pain, and sorrow, and loss, and torture, and anger, and fuck knows what else. And then we go numb, and then we rebuild. But I’m not going through any of that right now. Instead, as I look down on my feet, I see I’ve already put my other foot on the path of Single Mom Of Two. I don’t care for this path very much, but I couldn’t stay on the other path. It wasn’t right any more. It was a sad path, and one that I had tried to pave with gold SO many times, with no success.
Nothing went wrong, nothing happened, no one did anything. And maybe that’s the problem. We have just drifted so far apart, The Mr and I. And it’s a really sad thing. But I saw it coming, and I did all I could. To grow “back together”.
There are some things you just can’t make happen.
I’ve grown, and developed, and changed, and re-moulded, and changed some more, and grew more, and learned, and picked up a lot of stuff. And in that time, we drifted. Worlds apart. It’s not a bad thing. It happens. And that’s ok. It’s not a crime to become very different people.
I’m stronger than I used to be, which is why I guess I can actually write this post into my blog. I toyed with not saying anything at all, but I knew that my previously protected posts would tear me apart. And the fact that I’m being horribly needy on twitter, is sure to give me away soon enough.
But mostly, most important, is that I’m not ashamed. I’m glad we, The Mr and I, have been able to deal with this like adults. We’ve cried, and talked, and I’ve hid away in the study, and tried not to be weird. But I am glad that a) I finally made the decision, b) I finally made that step and c) that we’re still friends. I couldn’t cope at ALL if this was a messy one. I’m hoping The Smalls do understand that Mommy and Daddy still love each other. I just know they won’t understand that they’re not in love with each other. But that’s ok, because they will understand in time. I want to protect them as much as possible, but make sure they understand what’s happening. I can’t be that parent who “stays together for the sake of the kids”. I’ve been a child of that, and it sucked donkey balls. It was horrible, and I remember wishing they would just end it all, already. I didn’t want to get to that point. I’d probably end up dead, before getting to that point.
There are lots of things to figure out now (accommodation – who moves out? Who stays? Separation – how the fuck? 2 years? Divorce? Custody? Jesus – finances? Oh god), and I whilst I am scared shitless of ALL OF THE THINGS, I know that I’ve grown enough to keep on learning and growing. There’s no limit to growth, and I have to pick up more things along my way. And some of those things will be a fuck ton of info I will not understand, but will come to terms with.
There are a number of things which pain me through this, to varying degrees, mostly self-imposed. Things like “well now I’m a single mom, so really I’m just an unattractive woman with unwanted and unappealing baggage”. That one is pretty harsh. Also, “well I guess now I’m a statistic, another member of the Broken Home Club”. That stings. Another popular one which floats before me is “exactly how much of a selfish uncaring asshole am I to do this to someone?” which is silly, because (whilst unjustified here within this post) The Mr and I have both been very clear on where we’re coming from. On why I have chosen to finally make this decision. The worst is “holy crap; could I BE any more lonely?”
That last one hurts, because it’s not entirely self-imposed. I don’t have family support like I know D will have. But for what it’s worth, I am SO GLAD he will have that support. It’s essential, and there will be times when he will really need it. The family support I need isn’t the family support I will get, but it’s ok. My family doesn’t work that way. It’s taken me many years to come to grips with that. There are people I may call upon, every so often…maybe. Though I know I will just as quickly push them away or avoid them. A habit I need to fix.
I have plans in place, to help me live my life as I need to, with The Smalls in whatever capacity.
It’s going to be scary as fuck, and there will be times where I’ll be certain I am broken beyond repair.
It will be lonely, more lonely than I feel now.
It’s going to hurt, and there are things which will leave me horribly raw, more so than other things which have already happened.
But if nothing else, I hope I can learn, and grow, and teach, and have adventures.
Because all I can do right now, is learn to live again.