cosmicgirlie

spouting all the crap you never say out loud.

Endings

Talking.

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The saddest part of this whole fucking separation? Is not what I thought it would be.

Breaking The Mr’s heart? No. I don’t think I’ve done that. He’s ok with me. And if I did break it, you can bet I did/am doing all I could to make sure it’s not destroyed.

Telling everyone about it? No; that was surprisingly easy, perhaps because I was so ready for it.

Trying to find somewhere to move out, and living circumstances until then? Nope; we know I can’t move until I’m back in the height of wedding season (finances). And we’re both fine in the house – we’re really good friends.

No, the biggest difficulty is actually the attitudes of others. His family, my family, complete strangers who know nothing about the situation. And they don’t know because they don’t ask. They don’t realise that The Mr and I ACTUALLY TALK about everything. EVERYTHING. They don’t realise that yes, of COURSE he fucking knows I’m blogging this. They don’t realise that yes of COURSE I give him a heads-up if it’s a sensitive post, or that I’m going to write it but password it if it’s too much. They don’t stop and think about WHY I’ve chosen to go down this route. They don’t realise that I often ask The Mr if he is ok, and if he still understands why I’m doing what I’m doing.

No. They assume the worst. They’re waiting for me to be an utter cunt about everything, and they’re waiting for me to drop that he’s being a cunt too. To say that, actually he abuses me regularly, and I’m moving out because he’s kicking me out of the house. And that we’re totally going to court to fight over The Smalls, and I’m going to sue his ass for everything I possibly can.

Newsflash: This. Is. Real. Life.

This is not some fucking TV soap. This is not bullshit Jeremy Kyle, or EastEnders, or whatever. He and I are responsible adults. We are not assholes, to others or to each other.

Now, this is directed at specific people, whom I think read my blog, but I don’t feel the need to “confront” them just yet. I grow more tired and more sad with the assumptions into what’s going on, why this is happening, and how we are. Instead of speaking in hushed whispers, instead of assuming you think you know exactly what is going on, why don’t you try speaking to us, instead? Why don’t you actually bear in mind that there’s no need to feel the need to “report back” to anyone?

If you’ve taken offence to that paragraph, then yeah, it’s probably you.

The Mr and I talk; I’m concerned for his wellbeing, just as he is for mine. We may not be IN love, but we still give a shit about each other. It’s called a friendship. And it’s working well, at the moment. Interestingly, we have each others’ back more than some might care to appreciate.

I hate posts like this, as I don’t feel I should have to explain myself. And, I don’t like stepping out of my little bubble world of randomly spouted thoughts. But sometimes, shit needs to be said.

I am strong. This is not easy, but right now, I am really fucking strong.

Then there were the next shitty bits which I forgot about.

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This week, I told The Smalls, The News. I told them as best as I could (“Very soon, I won’t be living here any more, BUT you will still see me ALL THE TIME, and you can come and play round my house if you like, and I’ll still pick you up from school, and do your tea, and listen to you read, and do writing and dinosaurs and Doc McStuffins, and – Noah, it’s ok, there’s no need to cry, you’ll still SEE me, and I’ll still nag you to sort your stuff out, and tell you to pick up your toys! And I’ll still do French with you and stuff. Pardon Isaac? Yeah sure! Of COURSE there’s no need to cry, you get it, right? Sure you do. It’ll be fun! Yes, of COURSE you can bring Father Bear and your dinosaurs.”) and cried silently while Noah had a cuddle.

Because I have to be brave and strong for him, right?

I think, although the news sunk in immediately with Noah, he was pretty quick to understand that I’m not going far away. I’ve shown him houses I’ve been looking at online, ad have told him roughly where they are. He realises that I’m aiming to move, quite literally, up the road.

So…yeah. I’m moving out. And We have decided they will be registered as living with me. Originally, at the start of the week, they were to live here in their current home with The Mr.

And then I flipped my shit, because I realised that would pretty much make me feel like a nanny; pick them up from school, look after them until he returns, and then bugger off. Be their primary carer, without the title of primary carer. That didn’t sit well with me. So I had a minor rant, and verbalised with twitter a whole lot, and got some really fucking useful info. We can SHARE custody of The Smalls (I fucking hate the word “custody”, it feels taboo), and as long as it stays out of court (you bet your fucking ass it will stay out of court…) we can decide on shared custody in whatever way we please. I didn’t realise this before, though it makes me a lot happier now.

So, they will be living with me for the most part, though I guess they will do most nights in their current home.

I say that NOW, I have no idea how it will be once I’m out of this house.

SO THAT’S NICE.

I fucking hate being so goddamn lonely.

I think I was lonely all along, for aaaaaaages and ages, but deciding on separation kinda highlighted it. Which is pretty shit.

And then, loads of people are offering help and support (you really are fucking amazing, those of you who have offered or mentioned or whatever. Thank you). Which is lovely, but…I think because there’s SO MUCH going on, with a whole spectrum of family issues as well as Endings, I know I don’t yet feel there’s anyone I’m wholly comfortable with. I know that once I start talking, I probably won’t stop, and there’s just sooooooo so much built up.

So instead it comes out here. Into open posts, into photos, into private posts, onto twitter…it almost feels easier to spread the load, rather than try to talk to a small handful of people. I suppose it’s also weird because there are people whom I’m drawn to, to talk to, but can’t (for whatever reason). And then there are others so seemingly…desperate…maybe, to reach out. But I can’t let them near for whatever reason. The connections aren’t right, the vibes aren’t there, the words are wrong. It makes perfect sense to me.

In this last week, everything seems to be happening at a lightning speed, and yet I can’t get through this fast enough. Looking for somewhere to live, working out how I can support myself on practically minimum wage, wanting to get to the stage when crippling emotions finally start to lose their edge.

I’m that mom in the school playground, who hides in the corner not wanting to make eye contact, avoiding talking to people. The one you think is a stuck up asshole, too good to speak to others, but is in fact just trying to hold her shit together. Trying hard not burst into tears in the playground. Trying not to let others see her face because her eyes are puffy and horrible, and her face is already streaked with salt water tears.

I despise those moments, because they leave me exhausted, low, frustrated, angry – full of all the negatives. I won’t survive this if I’m full of negatives. I know there must be balance, I get that. But the scales are stupidly fucking tipped, and won’t stop wobbling.

I currently have no fear about where I’m going, or what I’m doing. I know it’s right, I know it’s meant to be. I’m ok with that. And I know that I haven’t got time to be afraid, because this is just the shit that I have to get on with. I’ve made my choices, including this bastarding path I’m on.

My feet hurt. I am tired. I’d like a Zimmer frame. I’m a fucking pussy, whining about shit all the time. Maybe I need a reality check. Maybe I need a break. Maybe I need to get royally shit-faced with friends and remember Life. Maybe I need someone to just stop, listen and hear me, genuinely.

Maybe I’ll just try to keep recharging, ready for the Next Shitty Thing.

With both feet on the Other Path.

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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.