The flood after the storm.

I’m grieving. I’m grieving the end of my marriage. There, I said it.

I don’t feel I should say it any more than I believe I should feel it in the first place.  Those of you who have lived in an unhappy marriage (and one that is heading, slowly but surely, towards the end) will know that you spend a lot of time picturing how life will be after it ends.

There’ll be no more arguing over x when he has gone.

I will be able to do  y and she won’t be there to moan at me about it.

etc, etc.

The reality is, no matter how much you think life will be better separated from your partner, it is really hard at first. Even when you know in your heart that it is the right decision.

The biggest pressure you will feel is that which you put on yourself, particularly when you are the one who has made the decision to end the relationship. You feel a need to prove that your decision was correct: you can cope, life will be better separate. You are asked how you are by well-meaning friends and relatives and you don’t want to tell them the truth because then they will think you have made the wrong decision. That maybe you can’t function properly without the other person.

For me, the loneliness is the hardest thing.  When you are in the middle of dealing with yet another argument between your two children and you really could do with someone else to back you up. When the tea is on the stove, the phone is ringing, your two year old is crying , you need to get the washing in the drier (because you don’t want your other half to think you can’t manage it all) and you haven’t actually finished a cup of tea all day.  When the children are in bed and there is nothing on TV and you don’t want to call your sister/best friend/mother because you don’t want them to think you are not coping but all you want is a hug and someone to smile at you without pity in their eyes. When you look at your body – so far past its best – and the tiredness round your eyes and wonder how anyone will ever be interested in you again or when you will ever find the time/energy/inclination/confidence to ever find out.

I have made the right decision – I am certain about that. There is a steel core of certainty that runs through me, even though I feel like I am floundering through each day as I try to uncover the me that was lost in the storm of unhappiness.

I am sharing this with you, not for your pity or concern, but because I know that someone else out there is feeling like I do.  Someone else out there has searched the Internet, looking for answers or help or support because they don’t want those who love them to know just how hard this is. And if that person is you, I just want to say that it is OK, you will be OK. It is normal to grieve the life that you built all your hopes on, it is right that you should be tired and emotional after all those months and years of unhappiness and doubt and guilt. It is OK to grieve, because you will come out of it the other side. The floods will subside, the damage will be fixed, and something new will be built in its place.

All the best.  You are not alone.




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