Tag Archives: Divorce in later life

Hello Again!

Well… hello again. It’s been a while. In fact, it’s been so long that Isobel and I discussed whether or not we should shut down our blog. After all, aren’t we pretty well over the immediate trauma of our respective divorces – it’s been over a decade – and are getting on with our lives? What more could we have to say that people might find remotely interesting, informative or relatable?

As it turns out, we’re not sure one ever – completely – gets over being betrayed by a husband who demands a divorce after several decades of marriage. Yes, you move forward and, as my son said a year ago, “I’m glad you’re divorced, Mum, because now you’re living the life you deserve.”

But both Isobel and myself have been left with lingering anxieties, doubts and lack of self-belief that we’re not certain will ever completely evaporate. Add to that natural ageing, health issues and changes in family dynamics, amongst other things, and there’s still a lot to talk about.

So we hope you’ll join us for our continuing conversation about the challenges – and, believe it or not joys – of being grey divorcees.

Isobel and Vhairi

The Last Day of The World

That first year after my husband left me was hell.  Absolute hell.  It was sheer bloody-mindedness (as my mother would have said) that kept me going.  I know some people in this situation who took to their bed for days – and that worked for them , so I’m not going to diss it – but I feared that if I did so, I would never get out of it.

No matter how little I’d slept that night, I set my alarm for 7am, got up, showered, made my bed, went for a walk… and refused to go back to bed until at least 9pm. Continue reading

The Wisdom of Anne Lamott

I am a huge fan of Anne Lamott.  (If you’ve never heard of her, you can link to her inspiring TEDtalk here.)

When I think of that imaginary dinner party I would love to host, with some of the most amazing people sitting at my table, she is up there at the top of the list.

I love her humour, her wisdom and her grace, and it was that wisdom that helped me through some of the worst times following my divorce.  Continue reading

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.

 

 

The Power of Poetry

I don’t know about you, but I have a love/hate relationship with poetry.  I hated it when I was at school, dabbled a bit in writing angst written lines when I was a teenager, then once I got married and ‘real life’ took over, it fell off my radar for years.

Decades.

Until a few weeks ago when a writer friend of mine suggested we each write a poem.  I had no idea where to start, so she suggested we take a line from one of her favourites – Love After Love by Derek Walcott – and make that our beginning. Continue reading

How’s it going?

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

Isolation

Photo by Dương Nhân from Pexels

Wow!  Hasn’t the world changed fast? Everything that was familiar about our lives has been turned upside down in a matter of days.  Around the world, fear of the unknown is at the highest it’s ever been for generations.

For those of you in the early stages of a divorce, worried about finances etc, probably living alone for the first time in years or even decades, the compulsory social isolation is a double whammy. The very time we most need a hug, none are available.  We are now physically cut off from friends, family and grandchildren. Continue reading

Love in the time of the Corona virus – Part One

Photo by Rakicevic Nenad from Pexels

It’s been a long hard journey to get to where I am now.  The first two years after my ex left me were sheer hell.  Since then, with the support of friends and family, and a lot of hard work on my part, my life has become one that is richer and fuller than I could have imagined even three years ago.  My heart and my mind are finally at peace. What more could I possibly want?

A man?

I don’t need a man in my life – I have proved that – but do I want one? Continue reading

The boy, the mole, the fox and the horse

I came upon a review of this book in The Guardian at the weekend.  It looked lovely, so I thought I would pick up a couple of copies for my grandchildren.  However, when I went to the bookstore, they had only one copy left.  So I bought it… and I’m going to keep it for myself.  I will buy other copies for my grandkids, but this one is mine.

It’s the kind of book that takes five minutes – or a lifetime – to read. In many ways it’s reminiscent of Winnie-the Pooh, both in terms of the illustrations, wisdom and the fact that it’s a book about friendship. By the end of it, I was in tears. Some of the conversations between the animals are so profound. One, in particular, given the fact that my heart – and I imagine yours too – has been broken, really struck me.

“What do we do when our hearts hurt?” asked the boy.

“We wrap them with friendship, shared tears and time, till they wake hopeful and happy again.”

Isn’t that so true.  It’s one of the most profound lessons I learned after my husband left me.  I will be forever grateful for the friends who gathered around me, who allowed me to talk and cry. And it’s also true about time. Time does heal all wounds.  There may be a scar left, but the wound heals and the pain is gone.

Or how about…

“Asking for help isn’t giving up,” said the horse.  “It’s refusing to give up.”

The boy, the mole, the fox and the horse by Charlie Mackesy is the perfect book for any occasion – happy or sad.

If you’d like to find out more about the artist, check out his Twitter account.

And buy the book.

Please, if your heart is hurting – or even if it’s not – buy the book.