I think I’m handling the whole marital breakdown, looming divorce, single mum thing well. I’m actually shocked at how well I’m handling it.

That said, tonight I’ve had a relapse.

I’ve been sorting out our spare room which is still full of the things we stored from moving. This involves unpacking and repacking, separating out his from mine. That, in general, is hard in a lot of ways but manageable. This evening, however, I came to all our wedding things.

I found the cross stitch wedding sampler our friend made us, who learned to cross stitch just so she could make it. I found a copy of the poem my best friends dad performed for us. I found the bag full of undeveloped disposable cameras and I found all our congratulations cards. There’s still more to go through and I honestly don’t know what to do with it.

I want to save it, I want to let Rose keep it and look through it because I want her to understand that her father and I were very much in love. I want her to see that she was brought into the world by people who desperately wanted her and loved her, and that just because things didn’t work out between us, that it doesn’t mean she was any less valued.

But at the same time it’s hurting me. I want to chuck it. I want to put it all in a black bag and stick it outside and just reboot. I know I won’t, and I know that deep down I don’t want to, and that it’s just a reaction as a way of coping with the pain… But still.

I’ve been going great guns with the sorting, getting us ready to hopefully move into a new place soon. This evening, however, I have sat on the living room floor, eating chocolate, and feeling miserable. I have looked at our wedding things, sung sad love songs to myself, and generally felt rubbish.

Now i am sat on my bed, the bed we bought when we got married, the bed we conceived Rose in, and I am feeling gross. I feel fat, from the chocolate gorging, I feel miserable, and I feel tired. Really tired.

I know I am going to have days like this and I know that it’s normal. I know that if I didn’t feel the pain and indulge in it sometimes then I’d be weird. But to be honest I’ve been doing well. I’ve been positive, and looked at the bright side, and felt fresh. I’ve been looking forward to a fresh start and enjoying life as a single woman. I’ve been happy. Tonight I am not happy and I really don’t like it.

Pretty soon I am going to smuggle Miss Rose out of her bed and into mine. I am going to hold her close, smell her beautiful hair, kiss her beautiful face, and remember how lucky I am.

For now, however, I am going to mope. Just for a little longer.

I miss my husband. I don’t miss the man he turned out to be, and I don’t miss the way he behaved towards us at the end, but I miss the man I married and who I thought he was. I miss having cuddles and giggles, I miss feeling protected and safe, and I miss feeling loved. He was my best friend. I told him everything, trusted him with anything, and loved him with all I’ve got. I miss him.

Part of me wants to go to bed, close my eyes, and then feel his body slide into bed next to me, and feel his big, strong arms pull me close and his hairy face press into my cheek for a kiss. I want to hear “goodnight beautiful” and then listen to his snores, which I always found comforting not annoying, and I want to feel the gentle blanket of knowing you’re happy with the love of your life.

Maybe one day I will feel all those things again with someone else. I hope so. I loved being married and I think I was a good wife.

It won’t be with him. He’s gone, and whoever he is now isn’t that person.

I’m still the same person though. And the person I still am misses the person he was.


About J.J. Barnes

Author of The Lilly Prospero Series Writer and Podcaster at Blogger at Rose And Mum And More Contributor to The Huffington Post
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3 Responses to Relapse

  1. jodiebloomer says:

    You’re coping remarkably well, but like you say- you’d be a bit weird if you didn’t have the occasional mope and breakdown over it all. That’s natural and normal. One day at a time. (I must remind myself this also.)

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