Family Affairs and other matters

My blog is almost exactly a year old today. My second ever post was done on Easter Sunday last year, so I thought that now would be a good time to reassess how it has been going. Have I achieved my aim? Is it heading in the right direction? Should I carry on? Why am I doing it?

In my first ever post I mentioned that I wanted to “use the internet as a place to experiment with a new identity in order to find my own voice again”. I think I’ve done that. I also said “I would like to understand the allure of cyberspace and to embrace the wealth of possibility, rather than to fear the danger”. I think I’ve done that too – I’m not nearly so terrified of the internet now. I also wanted to “remain one step ahead of the children” (no chance).

I have copied my post written on Easter Sunday last year. In many ways things have improved (not including the weather) …I now have my own house and I’m definitely calmer. I still have my “Ugg” boots and a crumpled face and given my behaviour over the last few days I am clearly still behaving like a teenager. Not sure I can continue to justify my behaviour simply by being a “lost’ soul. There is only a limited amount of time you can get away with that (post a trauma) and I think I might be reaching that time limit.

One thing though. I really wish I’d had the children for Easter this year. He had them last year and whilst I appreciate they are not a commodity to be divided equally, I think I have made a mistake. I agreed to it because it is easier for him to have them on public holidays, then he doesn’t have to take extra days off and I will have them for the remainder of the holidays. But still. I miss out on the best bit. The choc-fest. This is not ideal even if I don’t mind the solitude. He can of course take time off at other times and it should be my turn to stuff our collective face full of Easter eggs . I have to confess to taking to my bed this afternoon to rest my swollen ankle. I took up my (extremely boring) Doris Lessing book and a box of After Eights. Bit sad. Anyway, here’s last year’s blog entry:

EASTER SUNDAY

It is a beautiful day. I appear to have missed most of it. I think I must have sleeping sickness – presumably I am still catching up from all those years of broken sleep that are associated with motherhood. All I ever dreamt of was getting a full night’s sleep, so why, now that I can, do I wake up at 6.30am? I then have to force myself to go back to sleep, but not in a remotely satisfactory way. When I finally get up I feel dreadful. My back hurts, my head has a marginally dull ache and worst of all I look 10 years older. It’s as if my skin has taken on chameleon-like qualities overnight and has tried very hard to morph into an un-ironed sheet. A pattern of crumpled lines emerge that take most of the day to disappear. I am definitely going to have to book in for that facelift now I haven’t got a husband anymore. No chance of finding new man unless I sort out my crumpled face. Or, I suppose I could look for a man with an equally if not more crumpled face – otherwise known as a GOB (Grateful Old Bloke).

I also feel mildly sick. I have eaten too much chocolate. I am sitting in the garden wearing my dressing gown and Ugg boots (or “Ugh” boots as they should be known in my case). I look like a garden gnome only even more unattractive. I have talked to the children and they all seem to be happy. They are about to do an Easter egg hunt without me. My six-year-old apparently didn’t want to share his eggs with his grandmother “in case he catches her germs and get’s old”.

Once the children have actually gone, it does get easier. As with most things it is the thought that is generally worse than the reality. I was anticipating deafening silence and empty rooms, but instead there is quiet calm. There is nothing I can do about it anyway, so I might as well enjoy it. Sitting in the garden, looking appalling and smoking is not good. They would be horrified. But I am allowed to behave like a teenager if I want to. I am lost, remember. It is a bit like having amnesia and rebuilding your life all over again.
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My father thinks my blog is the biggest load of self-indulgent drivel he has ever had the misfortune to read. “Banal and Mills and Boone-esque”. Can’t at all understand why I am bothering. Or why anybody would read it. My brothers however quite enjoy it. My mother doesn’t know about it (I hope). So for the moment I will definitely continue. Personally, I love doing it. It has been my therapy and more surprisingly I have loved becoming part of a group of new friends who all seem to support each other. I have come to love the anticipation of wondering who, if anyone has dropped in to say ‘hi’ and leave a note. It gives me a focus. I mean lets face it, I would still be in bed with stomach ache after eating the whole box of After Eights if I didn’t feel the need to do this instead.

I had originally hoped that I could be an outlet for other divorced/separated/not happy people to bounce off. I’m not sure that has happened. I do hope that I haven’t intentionally just created a one sided rant against my ex – that was never the intention.

Most of my incredibly supportive readers are in the UK, closely followed by the US, Australia, Belgium and Canada. Further down the list is Finland which spends an average time of 00:01 minutes on my blog, compared to Australia who spends an average time of 12.44 minutes. Do you think they are taught speed reading at school in Finland?

Anyway, I just wanted to say a huge thank you to all my blogging friends. You really have been a support and I look forward to another year of feeling like there is some sort of safety net in cyberspace. I mean, lets face it, you know you’re being looked after from afar when you get a lecture from Maggie May about not drinking so much ever again!