Writings by me

Back in April my husband and I decided to separate. After a big mess, we are slowly and clumsily making our way through the wreckage. 

The last breakup I had was over 10 years ago and I handled things very differently; snogging inappropriate men, drinking far too much and generally spending lots of time in bed crying and obsessing over what went wrong, boring all my friends stupid. And this was over a man I had stopped loving a long time before the actual end. 

This feels like a whole new ballgame in both good and bad ways. Bad because my heart has broken for much more than just me this time, but for all of us, for our family and for the future plans which have now shifted seismically. Whether it’s the right or wrong decision, it’s still sad. 

In a good way though, I do not have the luxury of staying in bed, channelling Elle Woods in Legally Blonde (but considerably less adorable – I’m an ugly crier). I have to get up, look after my kids and keep going. And thank goodness for this. Now I’m not with them all the time, I’m being much more creative and intentional with our time together. Freddie and I now have a standing Bake Off date on a Tuesday and I’m doing things with them after school that I just did not have the energy for before. While it doesn’t take all the pain away, it helps. 

This was all until… I tested positive for Covid19, and the kids have been shipped to their grandparents for the week having tested (inexplicably) negative several times. It’s day 2 of self-isolation and though boredom hasn’t set in, I’m confronted with the reality of the last 6 months. I can’t drink due to damn Covid so instead I am binging on Celine Dion and long bubble baths. Funny how we spend so much time missing our free time only to pine for our babies once we have it. So I’m going to spend the time counting down to half term and making plans for when I see them again. Day three tomorrow, wish me luck.