Tag Archives: divorce after 60

When the Answer is Wrong

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I have been thinking about how I want the final chapter (hopefully, chapters) of my life to go. Seventy-four years are making themselves known on my body – joint replacement, cataract surgery, where have all the muscles gone? I want to live what time is ahead of me to the fullest, keep up the maintenance on my body, and in some small way, leave a mark, a memory that I was here.

That’s one of the reasons why I am involved in this blog. Vhairi and I want to share some of what we’ve learned after going through divorce at an older age, although really, I don’t imagine it’s easier when younger or married for less time. It’s still a betrayal of trust. It’s still unbelievably difficult. Our hope is that something we share will make a difference to other women living through the pain and stress of ending a marriage and building a new life.

So…true confession: During the prolonged process of getting a divorce, I found relief from the stress in alcohol. Having a glass of wine in the evening allowed me to set aside the emotional pain that had wrapped itself around every aspect of my day-to-day life. It made me feel better. It was good.

I soon found myself looking forward to that glass of wine like one looks forward to the soft pillows and cosy blankets of bed after a long day. The one glass began to turn into two. I didn’t think of it as a problem; it was a solution. And that, right there, is the danger.

Once a settlement was reached, and I had a home, enough money to pay the bills, and a successful freelance writing job, I was still having that drink (or two) every night. It was just habit, I told myself. Harmless. And what did it matter anyway? It made me feel good.

Medical appointments – “How much alcohol do you consume weekly?” I found myself lying. I knew it wasn’t good for me, so decided to cut back, limit it to the weekend – didn’t work. Okay, every night, but a one glass limit – didn’t work. It seemed that good intentions couldn’t stand up to that lovely relaxation of body and mind. Some nights I would wake, get out of bed, and pour whatever there was left in the bottle down the drain so I would have no choice the next night. A few days later, I’d buy more.

They aren’t kidding when they say alcohol is addictive.

I’m still fighting it. Every night, I think of that warm flow of relaxation. I’ve found a herbal tea that almost gives the same relief. Almost. I sometimes have a glass of wine in the evening after I’ve had a hard day, but I am very careful about making it a treat rather than an everyday thing. It’s not easy, though.

So this is what I want to say to you: be wary of turning to alcohol for stress relief. There is a cost. Go for a walk, a swim, a bicycle ride. Get a dog, a cat, raise budgies! Try to think of having that glass of wine as a treat, a special occasion, not a solution.

Take care of yourself. We are stronger than we think.

Photo by Mastertux

Finding Your Voice

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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 →

How’s it going?

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This Saturday, April 25th, 2020, it will be exactly 5 years since that horrendous Saturday morning, April 25th 2015, when my husband came downstairs as I was making his breakfast and announced our marriage was over.

Five years.

Five years.

I thought I was over it.

And then, this weekend something happened which brought me (temporarily) back to my knees.

I had hoped a good night’s sleep would help me put things in perspective, but it didn’t.  So when I got up this morning, I wrote about it in my Morning Pages, hoping that would exorcise it…  but all I did was stain the pages with tears. Continue reading →

Coping With Isolation

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I’m very lucky where I live. We’re not yet restricted with how many times we can go out in a day, and I live beside a river path, so nature is close at hand.  Almost closer at hand now.  With the pre-Covid constant hum of traffic erased, the birds seem to be singing more sweetly, the river bubbling more peacefully, and some people, including myself, are able to take the time to slow down and listen to nature.

It’s the same walk I took every day for a year after my husband left me five years ago.  Did I notice nature then? I can’t remember but I doubt it.  Every day was a painful blur. I’d walk that river path with my hood pulled over my face and sunglasses covering my eyes so people couldn’t see the tears falling from them. Continue reading →

Love in the time of Coronavirus – Part Three

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creativevix.com

(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 →

Love in the time of Coronavirus – Part Two

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Photo by Mareefe from Pexels

(contd from Love in the time of Coronvirus – Part One) 

I had already told the Matchmaker he could call me, so I didn’t feel I could call back and tell her I’d changed my mind.  And the ‘rules’ of the contract were that he and I would arrange to meet for a 45 minute coffee and that would be that.  I was supposed to call the Matchmaker afterwards to say if I wanted to pursue another meeting with this man or move on to the next match.

He called the next morning. We settled on a time to meet and he left it to me to choose the place.  Having already checked him out on social media and seen where he worked, I chose a coffee shop in the mall close to his work and texted him with the details.  All was set.

I was still very sceptical, and, if I’m honest, a bit nervous. But it was only 45 minutes, and it was a public place. So we met.  He was waiting for me, and although I got my wallet out to pay for my tea – I don’t drink coffee – he insisted on paying.

It was a bit awkward at first – I don’t see how it can’t be in such situations – but we started talking.  In my ‘other’ life, I do a bit of writing, so I’m always conscious of my characters’ body language as a way to interpret how they are reacting deep down, rather than on the surface. And ours was reserved. We were leaning back in our seats.

And then he told me something about his relationship with his kids and grandkids that really impressed me.  This was definitely someone for whom family comes first.

A little while later, after chatting some more, I realised we were both leaning forward in our seats. And then he asked if I would like to go out for dinner at the weekend.

By that point, we’d been talking for almost double our allotted 45 minutes.  We’d skirted a bit around politics, neither of us exactly coming out with where we stood on things, but I still had the sense we were at opposite ends of the spectrum… and that, in my head, had been a dealbreaker for me.  But he was a nice guy, and the relationship he had with his kids and grandkids… well that spoke volumes about his character.

So, still a little sceptical, I said yes to dinner, and when I got home, called the Matchmaker and thanked her for making the introduction.

I still was not sure if there was anything in this…but I wanted to find out more, not just about him, but myself.  Is having a man in my life – at this stage of my life, after all I’ve been through – something I want?

(to be continued)

 

The Cruellest Month

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T.S Eliot’s poem claims that ‘April is the cruellest month’, but when it comes to marital break-ups, that title belongs to January.  In fact, Family Lawyers refer to January as ‘Divorce Month’ as it’s the busiest month of the year for divorce filings.

Why?  Because many spouses hold off for Xmas to be over before they drop the bombshell.  And although my husband didn’t leave me until – ironically enough – April, I can now look back and say with certainty that December 27th, 2014 was the day he checked out of our marriage both mentally and emotionally.

With the divorce rate now being 40% in Canada, it’s possible you have found yourself in this situation over what is supposed to be the happiest season of the year.

They say only fools give or accept advice, so what I’m going to offer here is an observation from someone who is almost 5 years down the path in which you might have suddenly found yourself.

Bear with me.

I went out for a New Year’s walk along the river path this afternoon, and what I saw was a perfect metaphor for where you might have unwillingly found yourself.  Along with several other spectators, I stood on a bridge and watched as some chunks of ice  floated along the river, before smashing into an ice jam.  There they lay, stuck, for some time, until one or two broke free and slid under an ice bridge.

We watched.  Would they reappear… or would they be trapped under the ice until spring came along to release them?

But no… first one, then another emerged from the ice and continued on their journey.

It still wasn’t smooth sailing.  There were more ice jams, more ice bridges to navigate. Sometimes they got caught once more… but they finally broke free and continued down the river.

And that’s what the journey through divorce feels like.  Especially in the early stages.  You get battered from place to place until there are times when you feel like you are drowning.  But then you re-emerge and continue down your path.  It’s still not going to be plain sailing, and there’ll be another ice jam.  Once again you may get stuck… but once again you WILL break free.

As I headed towards the second bridge which would bring me back across the river, I found it closed off to the public. Structural problems, apparently! So I had to make a detour to a smaller bridge about 100 yards away.  This one was decorated in roses, the flowers of summer.  And as I made my way across it, I spied 2 pieces of ice floating quite happily down the river.  But what they didn’t know, was they were approaching some small rapids.  They were in for a bumpy time.

And that made me think about this post-divorce  journey. In the beginning, it’s rough, so rough that you feel like you’re drowning in the pain and anger and loss and grief.  But, over time, it starts to ease. You go through a smooth patch… and then it gets rocky again.  Smooth for longer this time… then you hit some rapids… but then it eases and you float along.

And so it goes.

If you’re on this painful journey, trust me, you’ve got it, girl.  You can do it.

This year, you will discover that you are stronger than you ever believed possible.

The Ghosts of Christmases Past

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There are times when I find it hard to believe this will be my fifth Christmas since my husband left me.

Christmas is a special time for every family. As an immigrant family, far from home, parents, siblings and cousins, we created our own traditions over more than thirty years  – everything from the number of trees we put up, to their decorations, to food and presents.

It’s a common belief that the ‘first’ of anything after a divorce (or death) is the hardest, but I’m not sure that’s true.  That first year I remained in total shock as the ‘firsts’ rolled around.  My daughter gave birth to her first child – a wee boy –  two days before that ‘first’ Christmas, so mixed in with all that grief, there was a huge amount of joy.

For me the ‘seconds’ were the hardest, because that’s when it became real.  This was what it was going to be like for the rest of my life.  Also, by two years in, my friends and family felt I should be ‘over’ it so it wasn’t something anyone except friends who had been through similar experiences really understood..

Navigating these past few years, as Christmas has taken on a whole new shape, has been tricky.  While life generally bumps along, it’s at times like this, when society suggests that families should be at their happiest and closest, when those family fractures feel deeper than ever.

But while many of those Christmases over my 37 years of married life have blurred into one, I’ve had a couple of experiences over the past few years that have made these Christmases amongst the most special of my life.

The first came about in November 2015, about 8 months after my husband left me.  I’d gone back to Scotland and was visiting an old friend.  She’s known me (and my ex) forever, and tears were streaming down my face as I told her what had happened. A little while later, she handed me a small parcel.  When I opened it, I discovered it was a handmade cross stitch Merry Christmas Banner. “I want you to have something new, something special this Christmas,” she said.  “Something that has nothing to do with him or your past.”  She’d started making it for me not long after she found out the news of my separation. The work- and thought – that went into each stitch, made me feel so loved and protected.

The second…? Last year my daughter invited me to stay over at her place on Christmas Eve so that I could be there on Christmas morning to see my grandson’s reaction to his presents under the tree.  It was an experience I will never forget and one I would never have had if I’d still been married.  Forget the pile of presents,  his eyes went as wide as saucers when he saw that Santa had ‘drinked the drink’ he had left out for him the night before.

Drinked the drink.

A beautiful innocent phrase born out of pain and one that I will treasure for the rest of my life.

Trigger dates

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For the last ten years of my marriage, August 5th, was a date that brought me joy. On  August 5th, 2005, after enduring four years of kidney dialysis, my husband was given the generous gift of a cadaver donor kidney.

I remember that day clearly; the lunchtime phone call from the hospital and their inability to contact my husband.  (Although he had a cell phone, he refused to carry it.)  Even though I was his wife, for reasons of patient confidentiality they couldn’t tell me the reason for their call, but they did answer my question.  “Is it time sensitive?” I asked.

The voice on the other line replied, “Yes’.

“How long does he have?” ”

“Thirty minutes.”

Thirty minutes and they’d give the kidney to someone else.

My son and I swung into action.  I phoned every person and place I could possibly think of where my husband might be. My son jumped into my car and literally cruised the streets downtown, close to his office, looking for him.

Long story short, they got to the hospital in time and he got the kidney.

I remember that night, seeing him post op, unconscious, his body swollen with all the fluid he’d received.  Honestly… he looked so white and awful I was terrified he might die.  But he survived and our lives changed. No longer were any of us – but particularly him – tied to the relentless demands of the dialysis machine.

Ten years later, on August 5th, my daughter discovered that the story my husband had fed all of us – that there was no-one else involved in his decision to break up our marriage – was an outright, and deliberate, lie.

Until that moment, I think I’d carried the illusion that our marriage might still be saved.  After that moment… after almost 40 years of loving him, I felt irrelevant and worthless. I wasn’t worth being told the truth.  What purpose did I have?  What meaning did my life have?  What meaning or purpose had I ever had?

Over the past few years, the sense of worthlessness has eased.  It’s a cliche but true – how someone treats you says nothing about you and everything about them. My meaning and purpose have started to crawl back, but August 5th is never an easy day.

And then, driving to pick up a friend from the airport today, I saw a sign by the side of the road that said, “You matter’.

It turns out it’s one of many signs displayed around our city by the woman depicted in this article. She states, “I believe that someone out there read that sign and it made their day better.”

I don’t know about anyone else, but Ann made my day better. Tomorrow – August 5th – will be much easier.

Thank you, Ann.

 

Should You Meet The Other Woman?

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When my husband left me, he insisted there was no-one else… but hoped there might be someone in the future.  And he promised, out of respect for me and our kids, that he wouldn’t even attempt to date for six months.

In my gut I knew there was someone else but I was accused of being paranoid. Hadn’t he promised me there was no one?? But then the truth came out. Yes, there had been another woman all along. Continue reading →