Category Archives: Uncategorized

The Empty Room

Photo by Ksenia Chernaya on Pexels.com

I am in the process of moving house. Long story short – I have bought a place on the coast more than 500 miles from where I’ve lived for the past 40 years. It’s been a major decision and one fraught with anxiety – especially during these times of Covid.

I have decided to have all the floors sanded before my furniture arrives. I have a very few temporary pieces in the house already – a blow up mattress, table, two chairs, a TV, area rug – but I’ve been removing them this morning before the workmen arrive as the floors need to be absolutely bare.

As I was rolling up the rug, my mind went to a wonderful film – Truly, Madly, Deeply. It’s a beautiful British film, made in 1990, starring Alan Rickman and Juliet Stevenson. Stevenson plays a woman whose husband (Rickman) has died. She’s kept her home exactly as it was during their marriage, and her grief is so intense that his ghost moves back in with her. I don’t want to say too much more because it is one of the most beautiful films you will ever see on grief and healing, but one of the last scenes shows an empty room with its wooden floor and a rolled up rug in the corner. It doesn’t symbolize that her grief and pain has been totally eliminated – after all, she loved the guy Truly, Deeply and Madly – but it does mean she’s letting go and moving forward.

And that’s kinda-sorta how I’m feeling about this move. I have loved, loved, loved living in my apartment in the city for the past 5 years. It’s been a place of healing and joy and sanctuary, but it was a place we bought together for us to retire to. Although it was in my name and became ‘mine’ in every way possible, there was still a tie to him.

This move, this new apartment, is all me. Like the Stevenson character, I am both literally and metaphorically closing the door on ‘that’ part of my life. Where I am moving to has no memories of him or our life together. And even though we’ve been apart for almost 6 years, there was a comfort and security in surrounding myself with the familiarity of a city where I have lived for most of my adult life.

How’s it going to turn out?

I’ll keep you posted.

Finding Your Voice

For the first few years after my husband left me,  I felt like one of those plastic garbage bags spinning in the wind, being tossed this way and that.  I felt unheard, as though I had lost my voice. No matter what I said or did, I seemed to have no control over anything.

And then slowly, very slowly, I started to regain – or, in some cases gain – control. Most were baby steps, which I have documented in this blog: my year of saying ‘yes’, divorce negotiations with my lawyer, buying a house for the first time on my own, preparing a new will, changing my name.

But there was one problem I kept coming up against. Continue reading

Aging

Photo by Yogendra Singh from Pexels

My mother always warned me that the very worst time in your life to lose weight was when you were in your ‘mature’ years, as your skin – particularly on your face – never bounces back the way it does when you’re young.

And she was right.

A few years ago, I lost a (ahem) substantial amount of weight!  The health benefits were amazing, but… I discovered that my mother’s caution was bang on.  Proud of my weight loss (it took a lot of hard work!) and the fact I was now healthier than I was ten years ago, I jokingly posted on Facebook that, while it was great that, in profile, my boobs now stick out (marginally) more than my belly, it was a shame about my sagging jowls.

It was as simple as that.  A joke!

But some of the responses startled me, because it occurred to me that my friends thought I was either a) trying to fish for compliments , or b) terribly insecure, because they all responded by assuring me that I looked great/beautiful/whatever.

I’m pretty realistic about my looks.  Even when I was young I would never have won a beauty competition, but I’m okay.  I look fine. Sometimes I can even look pretty great. Sure I could do without some of the sagging and lines, but I’m sixty-five now. Every single line has been hard won and I’m particularly proud of the fact that the smile lines around my eyes far outnumber my frown lines.

But should my external be what really matters? To the world?

To me?

Sitting back and thinking about some of those comments, I realised that I am blessed every single morning I look at my face in the mirror, because I see my mum and dad reflected back at me in my own features.  They were good – good – people, offering me a childhood filled with love and security and values. What a wonderful daily reminder of those gifts they gave me.

Since then – and particularly since my divorce – I have been blessed with so many other gifts.

The love of friends and family.

My health.

Reasonable financial security.

I live in a safe, beautiful city in what was recently declared the second most wonderful country in the world.

Passions in my life including hanging out with friends and family, travel, storytelling of all kinds (watching movies, reading books and writing), learning, cycling, walking, cooking, my home, photography, working on this blog, listening to and playing music.

So, in the realm of things, how much should our looks – or our perceptions of our physical selves – matter?  Sadly in this day and age of social media, selfies and photoshopped images on magazines and billboards, it’s hard not to compare our outward appearance with those of others.

I read something the other day  – can’t remember the exact quote – but it was something along the lines of, “A beautiful woman loses her currency with every day that passes.”

But I look at my list above, and with every day that passes, I realise I am getting richer. My life-just-keeps-getting- better.

I know we all pay lip service to  the idea that ‘looks aren’t everything’, but sometimes we need to step back and really acknowledge, deep down in our souls, that all the other stuff that has nothing to do with they way we look – the real stuff in life – is what truly matters, and be very, very grateful for it. And if we have our health, we are doubly blessed.

 

 

Love in the time of Coronavirus – Part Three

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(contd from Love in the time of Coronavirus – Part Two)

I learned – or re-learned – four major life-lessons from my dinner with – let’s call him – Matt, last Sunday.

1) Safety and Love: The most important reason I decided to go through a matchmaker rather than try and meet someone online was concern for my own personal safety.  I’ve read the horror stories out there, and a matchmaker, I felt, provided me with a element of safety. Continue reading

It’s Never Too Late – Weeks 11/12 – Vhairi

Week Eleven – Reigniting a Sense of Adventure  –  Week Twelve- Reigniting a Sense of Faith

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You are never too old to set another goal or to dream another dream – Aristotle.

I can’t believe it’s Christmas Eve and here I am trying to catch up on the final two chapters of Julia Cameron’s book It’s Never Too Late to Begin Again.  I actually finished the book a few weeks ago, but it’s taken until now to pull my thoughts together.

I’m not going into the details of the final two chapters, but instead will give an overview of how I found making my way through the book worked for me over the past few months. Continue reading

Creating a Sense of Humility

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Well, I have to say that the whole experience of divorcing after almost 40 years of marriage was certainly humiliating! So on beginning this sixth chapter in Julia Cameron’s book “It’s Never Too Late to Begin Again,” I wasn’t sure humility was something I needed to work on anymore – or ever again!

But as I worked my way through the chapter, I found a different way of looking at myself, my marriage/divorce and my life. Continue reading

Being Honest with Yourself after Divorce – Week 5

Along with my blog partner, Vhairi, I’ve been working through Julia Cameron’s book “It’s Never Too late to Begin Again,” posting here what I’ve “learned” from each week of morning pages and self-examination exercises.

All went smoothly until Week 5 – Igniting a Sense of Honesty.

This was a tough one. This involved looking at the years of my life (23-29) when so many big changes happened: university, marriage, moving away from friends and family. This was taking the time to really see myself then, the decisions I made (or didn’t make), what was important to me and what wasn’t. Continue reading

How to be the Opposite of Lonely

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It’s never Too Late to Begin Again – Reigniting a Sense of Community is the theme of Week Three in Julia Cameron’s book.

By Day Four, I figured I had blown it.

Morning pages – I wrote a measly three. Artist date – none. Walks alone – none. On the last day, it was the memoir part with its remembering tasks and questions.

I looked at the blank pages in my notebook and knew I was a failure.

Failure at growing up, failure at marriage, failure at life. Oh, yeah, the self-pity demon was in full force on that seventh day. Continue reading