Yesterday was three months since Dad died.
Today sees me divorced for two years.
Both of these events seem simultaneously longer ago and shorter. The former is grief in action. It does not get smaller – instead life regrows around it. This took a while as there was the funeral to get through. Plus Dad died in the summer holidays, so I didn’t have choir to escape to, although some of those I’m closest to knew and supported me. Have I mentioned that I love these people?
The latter is a whole mixed bag of emotions. It’s incredible how much you can hate a person while still loving them. What the ex did went beyond the pale and there are aspects that I still can’t talk about, even to my counsellor. Yet we were happily married (as far as I knew) for 25 years before the wheels started to come off. We have five children together. We have two grandchildren. That is a lot to walk away from.
I am happy that I did, though. I have no regrets. I’ve grown around the grief and found the person lost to being a carer and emotional abuse. More, I’ve found the child buried under bullying and trying to fit into a box she was never meant to. Divorce was a part of that. Being diagnosed with ADHD was another. I finally understand myself more.
There is still work to do. My grief over Dad is still raw and there are days where it leaves me breathless. I’m emotionally fragile and will weep at the drop of a hat – it was Children in Need yesterday, and I cried all the way through the DIY SOS Big Build. I’m trying to embrace tears rather than thinking that I ought to be more British. Bottling up emotions is not healthy.
But I’ve written today. Just a short, but also a start.
Little steps are still steps.