They say time is a healer, but I think her powers must be fading, because as time wanders on I still can’t seem to find my feet in the new life I am leading. I perceive myself as strong, as having shoulders that can carry most burdens. Yet, recently I seem to walk with a stoop as my load seems heavier than usual.
Trying to come to terms with life not being all that you envisioned is tough, and it aches and at times it stings.
Longing for a life once had simply creates a sorrow that can’t be wiped away, instead it needs to be digested.
I am not the first woman to separate from her husband. I am not the first to try to raise a family with parents in two homes. I know others have tread this road, felt this sadness and have still emerged the other side.
But, it feels like a bloody long road.
I have come so far from what once was a life full of busy weekends, of two parents running around, meeting in the middle, stopping for dinner on laps, then resuming the parenting race again. Of spending time with friends with their families, going to sleep at night sharing stories of the kids, rolling over in slumber and finding a warm body close to your own. Planning holidays, cheering at Sports Day, raising the ones you longed for hand in hand.
That life seems so far ago.
I carved out a new existence, I have danced till my feet ached, tried to hammer nails in the wall, I mow my own lawn, I parent the kids solo ten days out of fourteen. I have smiled, laughed, and put a brave face on.
But, I am knackered, because the road still seems to continue, and the future is clouded.
I have the upmost respect for single parents who navigate this far better than me. Who remember to read with each nightly with their little ones, rather than bundle them into bed so a minutes peace can be theirs. Who create costumes for World Book Day, rather than convince them to dress as characters who wear ‘normal’ clothes. One’s who remember their kids hospital appointments, clean their dirty shoes, and iron their uniform. Who don’t lose party invitations and who manage to find their son’s football boots more than five minutes before kick off.
I simply cannot juggle that many plates.
I know this is a phase, my marriage quietly came to a close eight months ago, I think reality dawned this week. It seems it takes me time to accept situations. I am strong enough to say I am scared of being alone, that I worry about what my future holds. I know the ache will end, I will feel better.
I know my cure lies in my friends, and talking, and swinging heavy weights above my head.
So I guess I will simply carry on…