‘Something very important is missing from my life: Consistency’
Please do not misunderstand this post.
In August it will be twelve months since my marriage officially ended. In these (almost) twelve months I have striven to prove to the world and anyone who would listen that I am a ‘strong, independent woman’. I’ve been told many times by dates that I have a wall up that is very difficult to crack and I give very little away emotionally. The truth is, I can’t. Vulnerability in my eyes equates to weakness. Weakness means they have won and I never play to lose.
So here’s my wall – removed.
I miss my life. I miss it with every fibre of my body. When memories pop up of a silly status, a photo or a video I realise I cannot share it with the world because it is not my life anymore. I hate that. I hate not sharing the silly little in jokes, knowing how to wind someone up for a giggle or being able to rely on that fact that someone just knows you. It brings actual fat tears. I miss knowing that touching a vein evokes the most ridiculous gagging noise in disgust, where to tickle so they laugh like a girl or that belly buttons are a big no-no. I miss that B has no one to practice cricket with, or L doesn’t have someone to do ridiculous Mr Bean impressions with Sylvanian Family characters. I miss that no one pretends to play drums whilst holding one of the twins’ arms as drumsticks, or pretending their legs are machine guns. I miss Daddy Dummy Face and the Claw and all the dumb shit we used to come up with to provoke laughter. I miss the family days out, or the family nights in. I miss hints that chocolate is needed and the fact they would go and get it without hesitation. I just miss.
I wish things were different. I wish that I’d come first, that love was enough. I wish that this blog was full of daft anecdotes rather than emotional ramblings of what should have been. I wish rose-tinted glasses didn’t exist to mask the reality of what was. I wish I could hold on to the loneliness I felt in my relationship so that I knew that all the miss wasn’t real life. I wish things were easier, that we had both moved to a place where being civil to each other, smiling and conversing was ok. I wish I’d found someone new, someone who can show me that I can still love and be loved. I wish I had consistency
I accept the things I cannot change begrudgingly. I accept that online dating will not magic up Mr Right, that I can’t hurry love and yes, I’ll just have to wait. I accept that the person I miss does not exist, never truly has, not fully anyway. I accept that this is life. I do not have to like it all the time, but I do need to get a grip of it and make new memories I can happily share with the world. I accept that I have to stop blaming the failure of my marriage for everything otherwise I will never grow.
I accept that I am not over it. I accept that these tears are still mourning tears and that my bravado does not really fool those who truly know me. I accept that sometimes I don’t even know myself. I accept that I am an absolute soft arse and that there’s a part of me who would turn back the clock in a heartbeat just to stop these feelings. I also accept that someone reading this WILL report these words back, I don’t actually care as it serves no purpose – this post is not for them, it’s for me, to face those things I miss and accept that I will probably always miss them and not feel vulnerable for feeling this way.
But I also accept that I do not love anymore. Missing and loving do not equate to the same thing. I accept that one day I may find someone who just knows and even better, never puts me second, but I also accept that if I don’t it’s not the end of the world (well, I almost accept – everyone needs someone to love right?)
Miss. Wish. Accept