Oh my, it's going to be a challenging week. Lots to do and think about. Lots of goodbyes. Lots of emotion. I've just taken a break and gone out for a coffee. Made an utter doofus of myself by bursting into tears because the wrong song came up on shuffle, and I had to phone Squirrel and be talked down.
So, yesterday The Bounder, Alpha girl and I had lunch together. It was genuinely lovely, and started me thinking. I'm fairly certain that it will have been the last time that I see my Husband in a very long time. It probably needs to be if I'm going to move on and process things, sort out my head, and stop being such a needy madam. Also, I very much doubt that his new girlfriend is too happy about our continuing tendency to drop things and sort out various crisis for each other. Moving away, and on is definitely the good and healthy thing to do. Still spent most of yesterday evening in tears though.
It's the memories. I know that towards the end things were horrible. I know that we should have separated three years ago. I know that we've done mean and horrible things to each other. I know that I used to lie in bed and consider gnawing my own arm off, just to feel something. I know that some of my friends consider my husband to be a bit of a wrong un. I know that we bring out the worst in each other. I know that I've spent five years on Lustral rather than have a necessary conversation. I know that I lost myself, my pride and my respect. I'm not stupid, and I do know all of these things.
It's just that I know lots of other things too. I remember what it was like when we first met, that giddy, wonderful, consuming gorgeousness that comes with meeting the person who fits, who makes sense of all the wrongness, and makes everything seem shinier and more lovely. I remember what song was playing as we drove to get married, finally understanding the rules of cricket, mammoth scrabble sessions, going to bed for 48 hours with a bottle of vodka, laughing until we cried, and crying until we laughed. I remember the hospital in Birmingham at four in the morning, and the summerhouse by the lake in November. We were together for the best bits of my life, and also for the very worst, most heartbreaking bits, which nobody else will ever know about. There are phrases and words which will always make me smile, and songs I'll never be able to listen to again. I remember him wearing a dress, and a jumper,when I introduced him to the landlord of my local. I remember all the times he made it better for me. I remember cooking, and bathing, and singing together, and him washing the dye from my hair for me, and putting plasters on my knees for me, and just so much stuff. It doesn't go away, it's just they used to be collective memories, and now they are two sets of separate memories, and I have to be OK with that. And I am, and I will be.
Oh, but yesterday, we were saying goodbye, and I was crying, but trying not to, trying to rationalise it all, to put a positive spin on it, make a joke of it all, trying to be brave and admirable, and he hugged me and stroked my hair, and said "shhhhhhhhhhhh", which was always the signal that everything would be OK, ( even when it wasn't) ,and I just knew, that in spite of the last five months, or the last three years, or the last fifteen years, depending on how one views it, this was still the person and the place that knew me the best. I knew that I could go out and giggle and flirt with as many unsuitable boys as I wanted, and that some of them might even turn out to be kind and funny and lovely, but that it will be a very long time till I find someone who can soothe me with a single syllable. And that's OK. Actually, that's more than OK. It's how it should be.
Lawks, it's only Monday.......
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