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Posts Tagged ‘divorce’

Being single has blown me wide open. A couple of years ago I could never have imagined myself being deliberately, consciously alone, craving that time with myself rather than just as a default, in-between state. My relationships have gotten deeper, including with my son, as we’ve adjusted to life being how it is; feeling full instead of that man shaped space next to me.

It makes me smile when my friends and family crack one liners like ‘someone needs to make an honest woman out of you’, ‘you’re hell on men’, and the ever-popular ‘I can understand you being a commitment-phobe now, after everything’. I’m not alone. I’m not commitment phobic. I’m committed to my friends and my son and my life but mostly I’m committed to myself, and there’s something special about that. It makes me laugh when well-meaning relatives click their tongues and sympathise, ‘the right one will come along when you’re not looking for him’.

Maybe he will, and maybe he won’t. and I’ll be whole either way. I haven’t had an actual date in probably a year and occasionally I’d like to go on one, but then I just do something nice for myself instead. I have a market stall with my best friend now, and I love meeting people and getting to know customers – people reveal so much about themselves when there’s no expectations and no formality. It’s so cool, all these quirky amazing people from all walks of life. I love it.

I’m getting along better with Bailey’s dad, we’re not quite friends, but we’re communicating effectively. I want good things for him. We’re not looking like dragging each other through court now, and I know we could get into a massive argument tomorrow, throw goodwill out the window and try to destroy each other, but I don’t think it will happen. This feels like a genuine shift. I stood up for myself – without shouting, arguing or attacking. And it worked, I think. He can’t walk all over me and he respects me as the parent who sticks by Bailey no matter what, who finds solutions and doesn’t make him into someone he’s not. I respect him as Bailey’s father who loves him, and I leave them to their relationship, even though it’s not my ideal. That letting go is hard, but it has to happen, and I do it again and again.

There’s this sense of freedom and possibility that has come with being single for me, once I got through the (horrific, gut-wrenching, sickness inducing) pain of separation, that is. I’ve been able to get to know myself, be authentic and uncompromising. I think our education system would put my son through pain, so I pulled him out and he stays home. I lived at the beach for a year because I felt like it. I came back because I thought it was our best option. I sell hemp products because I believe that’s important. I didn’t have to debate with anyone about those decisions. I didn’t have to consider anyone’s feelings except mine and my now 7 year old son’s.

I’m not shunning the idea of a relationship, but I’m loving where I’m at, especially after how long it took me to get here. This has been the hardest, most worthwhile work of my life. When I have a bad day, I know it’s just a day, and I don’t need anyone to fix it for me. I had never experienced being able to soothe myself. I’ve always been with someone or pining over someone or had a fall-back person. This whole ‘love yourself and life is not bullshit’ thing actually holds some credibility, who knew?

Sunsets are just as beautiful alone.

Ash xx

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Hey guys, seems time for a life update yeah?

So, you’ll never guess what. I’m still off mainstream treatment, and still holding steady. I have good days (like yesterday) and very flat days (like today). I’ve lost some weight (I needed to, and should keep dropping naturally I hope) and my cycle is slowly becoming regular. My skin is looking better, I haven’t needed a nap in the afternoon in ages, and I’ve slowly started riding again ūüôā

My best mate lives with us now, it’s awesome. Saved my ass financially too. And sometimes, she makes my bed ‚̧

Everything is so up in the air but I’m fighting in the only ways I can to keep our house and lifestyle, and that’s that. Underneath that, I’m stable. I have shitty horrible days but I’m ok. I know myself. I’m single and actually good with that to the point of wanting to stay that way. Bailey is just a livewire, bright and happy. He’s developed a real sense of humour (god knows he’ll need it) and his creativity has been shining through. We’re still ‘homeschooling’ (legally, though truth be told we tend to edge more toward unschooling these days, not that we try to fit into any particular category) and I can’t see us re-entering mainstream education any time soon. It just works for us. I regret putting him into school in the first place, I had that spot in my tummy where you know something’s not right but I just I don’t know? Wanted us to fit in? I guess school is just the thing to do, and there aren’t a lot of options here.

Everything is geared towards people entering the mainstream education system. Doesn’t mean it’s bad, just not for everyone I guess.¬†

So yeah, that’s us. There’s been a lot of friend drama, house drama, financial drama but I feel removed from it all most of the time. It doesn’t matter. It’s highly likely I’ll end up walking out of this house with nothing to show for it but that’s ok. If I’m here for one year or ten before starting over I’m just going to make the best of it. We like it here. It’s cruisy and I have the best work and friends, but I find gorgeous people anywhere i go and Bailey seems the same. I want to stay here as long as possible, because we’re set but when it’s time to go, I won’t grieve.¬†

Sunsets and stars. Bonfires. Hugs and true friends and the smell of rain. I can have the important things anywhere we go.

x

 

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I grew up down here. I used to know every square inch of the place, but my God, has it ever changed. Horse paddocks are shopping centres, backyards with enough room to get lost in are a rarity, and on the weekends I practically have to fight for a quiet spot on the beach. Twenty years ago this was a haven for single mums, hippies, and old drunks. Cheap rentals, beautiful beaches and a healthy amount of marijuana smoke in the air. Most people knew each other, and everyone knew my family.

After I left, every so often when I had to pass¬†through I’d feel sick. Traffic lights, fast food, so. many. people., nothing suited here. I think it was the fastest growing region nationally for a few years running, and it shows. I guess everyone wants to live at beach, even if now that means working crazy hours to afford it.

Once Craig and I were done and dusted (the first, maybe second time) I thought I’d come down for a couple weeks over summer, see my old besties, have some space. I like to sit on the balcony in the evenings, even though it faces completely the wrong way for any kind of view. At that point in time I would have been having a cigarette (I barely smoke now – yay for me!) when I heard a voice, ‘Hey! Are you my new neighbour?’. It took me a few seconds to realise where it was coming from, and I could only see him if I kinda leaned over, and he was leaning right forward and waving sheepishly ‘Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you’.

‘Hi. No. Just here for a break.’

‘Need someone to show you around? There’s some good spots’

I laughed. ‘Nah. Thanks though. I grew up here. It’s changed a lot.’

‘You don’t look old enough to say that’

I remember biting my lip, squeezing my eyes shut as I called out ‘Wanna come up for a drink? This is weird.’

He shook my hand at the door, formal. Introduced himself. Let’s call him Matt. I’ve never had any luck with Matts. Older than what I’d thought, a couple of grey hairs in his stubble. I love stubble. Kind eyes.

He can string a sentence together, plays guitar, and has built homes in Cambodia. He tasted like beer and salt.

I would have been happy to leave it at that; that’s all I expected. But he insisted on taking me for breakfast, and showed up with flowers and chinese the same night. We talked. About most things, separation was a big theme.

Except he wasn’t totally separated.

His wife wasn’t there though, but when he started being cagey a couple weeks on, I knew something was off. It ended with him in tears, confessing that while they had spoken about separation, and his heart wasn’t in the marriage, they hadn’t *actually* separated yet.

I really liked him. And I believed him when he said he was sorry and that he didn’t expect to meet someone he connected with at that point. But I still stopped seeing him immediately, and quietly freaked out,¬†imagining how I’d feel being in his wife’s position.

Fast forward a few months until my next visit, when I noticed his house was for sale.

There was a twinge of regret in my chest, but nothing more.

When I came to live here, I just wanted to keep quiet, stay way under the radar, rest. It had only been a few days when the RSPCA came to investigate, saying my dogs had been reported as having no shade, water and that they were underweight. The complete level of confusion from the lovely guy that came out was almost comical. But when it happened twice more, plus a noise complaint to the police (I’m very quiet – but this is a party street so there’s always music from somewhere) I started feeling a little sick.

A few weeks later I was coming back from the beach at night when I hear, ‘Whore!’

‘Excuse me?’

‘You heard me’, she stated, talking loudly over her barking dog. ‘I know who you are. You were a delinquent and now you’re a home wrecker!’

I tried to apologise and explain that¬†I had no idea¬†Matt wasn’t single¬†but she wasn’t having it. The RSPCA had threatened to have her charged for making false reports, and the police said I should keep a harassment diary but mostly I just ignore her, and remember how much she’s hurting. Ok, I yelled back a few times.

I don’t mind so much – these days when she starts up I just kinda be like ‘Yeah, yeah, I’m a whore. Whatever.’ I’m sure she knows inside that I’m not responsible for her marriage. Apparently -according to another neighbour- they divorced about 6 months before I moved in, the house was for sale for a while but she ended up buying him out.

If I was her, I’d be pissed at me too.

I try to remember she doesn’t know anything about me or my life. And that making a mistake doesn’t define me.

x

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