Tag Archives: Healing after Divorce

Last Time

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I’m in a reflective state of mind at the moment.  I’m back in the UK – where I grew up – on holiday and while I was here, my sister-in-law died. The last time I saw her was two years ago.  Did I have any sense at the time that that would be the last time I’d see her?  I’m pretty sure the answer would have been ‘no’.

If you’re fortunate, you recognise a ‘last time’ when you’re faced with it.  For example, I have a clear memory from seven years ago.  I was on holiday with my daughter and her two young children.  My granddaughter still needed a nighttime feed, and as she was bottle fed, I offered to do it so my daughter could get some much-needed sleep.

I realised this would probably be the last time I would ever give an infant a nighttime feed, so I deliberately paid attention to everything about that night; the light from the streetlamp outside the hotel room, the soft sleeping sounds of my daughter and grandson, the sensation of the baby in my arms and the gentle way she suckled.

But so often last times slide by us unnoticed until it’s too late.  My brother fell and broke his arm in October and is now, also, coping with cancer.  The last time his son played golf with him was a few days before his fall.  At the time, neither had any idea it would be their ‘last game together’.

Last times creep up on us, mostly unnoticed.  Sometimes – like feeding my granddaughter – we are aware of them, but usually they have passed before we realise. But we can’t go around wondering if someone we’re seeing, or something we’re doing is for the last time.

After my husband told me he wanted a divorce, I was very conscious it was probably the last time I’d see him, the last time I’d set foot in my home of twenty-odd years, but before that moment, would I – should I – have sensed the last times of us going out for dinner or a movie, the last time of cleaning our home, picking up his dirty laundry from the floor?  And if I had, would it have made things harder or easier. 

Does it even matter now?

With my sister-in- law’s funeral coming up soon, my brother and I have been going through old photo albums searching for photos that celebrate her wonderful life.  In the process, we also came across photos or me and my kids… and my ex-husband.

After my ex left me, I got rid of all of the photos of him except for one.  (Don’t worry, I didn’t destroy them – I gave them to him and the kids.). And I’ve never regretted getting rid of them. That was then.  This is now.  But…

After all these years, looking now at the photos my brother took of me, my ex and the kids I found I could look at them –  dispassionately’s not the right word, but the emotion of those early days has completely gone.  I can now look at the photos and remember the good times.  Not the last times. Not the two years of horror and heartbreak.

Hmmm.  I feel like I’m slightly getting off track here with what I’m trying to say.  What AM I trying to say??

When I say my sister-in-law lived a wonderful life, I mean it.  The pictures bear it out. Hers was a life of love. Her love for her family and friends. Her love of life itself.  You can see the joy in her face, her smile never fading even as the years gathered speed.

Although I didn’t realise it was the last time I would see her, ‘the last time I saw her’, I find myself grateful for all the times I did spend with her.  I am glad she was in my life.

Just as, looking at those photos of my ex and I, I’m glad he was in my life, if for no other reason than if he hadn’t been, I wouldn’t have the kids and grandkids I love so much.

So perhaps last times don’t matter.  (Unless, like with feeding my granddaughter, you are aware it’s a last time and you can relish a beautiful moment.)  It’s life’s moments, every single moment, that matter.

One day there really will be a last time for all of us, but if we can spend our time until then with the people we love, aren’t we lucky.

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

The Wisdom of Anne Lamott

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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 →

The Power of Poetry

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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 →

Isolation

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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 →

Take Your Time… But Persevere

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I was at the beach recently.  A storm was coming in.  The clouds were dark, the waves wild, the wind blowing.

Hard.

It was exhilarating.

I found a sheltered spot, wrapped my coat tightly around me, my hair blowing wildly in all directions, the taste of salt sharp on my lips, and watched.

I watched the water, and the clouds, but mostly the seagulls.

They were an inspiration.

One tried to take off. He flew low to the beach, then was beaten by the wind and landed again, quite ungainly.  He waited a few minutes more, then tried to take off again, flying low… low… mere inches from the beach…until he got the wind beneath his wings and soared.

Another hung almost static in the air, beating her wings but also getting nowhere. She dipped down, searching for another wind, but finding none, landed on the water’s edge.  As she did so, a wave came in and knocked her off balance.  She staggered a little, then straightened herself and plodded onto the beach.  She waited a while, then like the other gull, took off again, staying low to the beach until she too caught the wind beneath her wings and rose into the air.

They weren’t the only two struggling.  All the gulls were fighting the wind… but they kept on going.

And it seemed to me the perfect metaphor for what it’s like going through those first weeks…months… years after a divorce.

Get forced down to earth again?  Take a breather.  Rest.  Don’t force yourself back up immediately.  Find your balance,  then take off.  Stay low at first.  Don’t push it.  Take your time till you feel more confident, then spread those wings.  Catch the wind.  Yes it might shove you around, but land again – even in an ungainly fashion – if you have to and start over again.

But keep going.

The storm will pass.

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.

 

What’s in a name?

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Deciding to change your name is a very personal decision. Although I loved being a wife and (love being) a mother, my feeling was that if my ex didn’t want me, I no longer wanted to carry his name. Embarking on my own Shirley Valentine quest to try and rediscover the me I used to be, I would do it with my ‘own’ name.

One reaction I got from someone who had only ever known me by my married name was very inspiring.  They claimed my own name sounded like a character from a Robert Louis Stevenson novel and told me to, “Go out and be the heroine of your own story.”

So what does changing your name actually involve?  When I married in the late 70s it was easy.  I had one bank account, a driver’s licence and a passport.  Done and dusted.

Now, 40 years later, it’s more complicated.  Some of it is costly, some of it’s not.  So how do you go about it?

No matter where you live, the most important thing to start with is to collect ALL of your ORIGINAL documents; birth certificate, marriage certificate and divorce certificate.  (Some people are tempted to dispose of the latter.  Don’t!)

After that, it will depend where you live.  I live in Canada, so this is how I proceeded.

  1. Driver’s Licence.  I took along all 3 certificates and got my new driver’s licence at my local AMA office. (Free)
  2. Once I had my driver’s licence for ID, I was able to change my provincial Health Care Card.  I also did that at the AMA office.  (Free)
  3. I then visited the bank with my new ID and all three original certificates and changed all my account info including credit cards etc.  (Free.)  I also have a bank account in the UK, so I needed to visit the bank with all three ORIGINAL certificates to have that changed.  (Free – except for the cost of getting there!)  This applied to my bank, it may not be the same with others, so check out what you need with your branch.
  4. Social Insurance Number.  This is where original documents are so important, especially if you were born or married overseas.  This was done at my local government office. (Free) They assured me the change would automatically be transferred over to the Taxation Agency, but it’s a good idea to…
  5. … contact your Taxation Agency and confirm that has been done.  Especially before you file your annual taxes. (Free)
  6. Passport.  Ironically I needed less ID for my passport than my Social Insurance Number – they didn’t need my marriage certificate.  Fortunately my passport was up for renewal anyway, so it only cost me the normal amount.
  7. House title.  I’ve still to do that, so I’m not sure what the cost will be.
  8. Then come other important considerations:  car ownership, car insurance, house insurance etc.  These were all free and done at my local AMA office.
  9. Then the minor things – library cards, loyalty reward cards, membership cards. Most of these will be free.
  10. Time share property.  I co-own an overseas timeshare property with my daughter – who is also my executor.  They need original documents AND it will cost approximately $300 to change my name on our joint title.  I will do that on our next visit to the property.

There are probably other things which I haven’t factored in, but I believe these are the most common.  In general, it’s not an expensive undertaking, but it is time-consuming, and here I am, two years after beginning the process, still catching things every so often.

Was it worth it?  I have friends who kept their married names and are perfectly happy about their decisions.  But for me, changing my name has helped me move forward.

One of the last scenes in Shirley Valentine is when her husband passes her on the beach.  She calls out his name and he stops, surprised.
“I didn’t recognise you,” he says.
“I know,” she replies. “I used to be The Mother.  I used to be The Wife.  Now I’m Shirley Valentine again.”

 

It’s That Time of Year Again!

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(This post should have gone up at the end of 2018, but better late than never, right?)

Yes, it’s that time of year again when we look back at the year slipping out of sight in our rearview mirror, and view the approaching year with – hopefully – optimism.

Last year we wrote an end-of-year post entitled  Moving forward into the New Year. In it, we decided we would measure, in a tangible way, the frequency of our good and bad days by putting one dime in one of two jars.  The bad days couldn’t be run-of-the-mill bad days – like losing keys, the car not starting or falling down on your a-s  and looking like an idiot while trying to take a photograph.  (True story.)  They had to be bad days specifically connected to our divorce/ex-husbands/feelings of loss and/or failure.

DSC_0390Very quickly, we discovered that we were running out of dimes for our ‘good’ days, so we decided to put dimes in the jars only on our bad days.  And for me personally, although my ex remains inside my head much more than I would like, I was pleasantly surprised to realise I only had eight dimes in my bad day jar.  Some of those days were really bad days.  One involved a visit to my doctor where I just cried my eyes out.  But he was great.  He’s suffered loss himself and advised me that it’s not wrong to grieve.  We only grieve when we lose things that matter.  And my marriage mattered – to me.  The way my husband left me, says everything about him and nothing about me.

Would there have been only eight dimes in the first two years after my husband left me?  Absolutely not.  The jar would have been full to overflowing – and it’s not an exercise we would recommend until you are well into the healing process.  DO NOT DO THIS WHILE YOU ARE FEELING FRAGILE AND LOST.

I can’t promise that there won’t be more than eight dimes next year.  2018 was a really good – and busy – year for me, with lots of travelling and the birth of a granddaughter to fill my life with joy. But looking at those eight dimes laid out on the table in front of me, offers reassurance that I am healing. That I am getting back on my feet.  That life is worth living.

May 2019 bring us all blessings and peace.

Happy New Year.

 

It’s Never Too Late – Week 7 – Vhairi

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Reigniting a Sense of Resilience

At the end of each chapter in Julia Cameron’s book It’s Never Too Late to Begin Again, she asks six questions.  Two of them deal with ‘aha’ moments and experiencing synchronicity.

This week, those two things hit me at the same time. Continue reading →