But then what happened? my ex wife told me how much she loved me and wanted me back again, how deeply sorry she was for all the pain and sadness, and would do anything if I would only give her another chance, she had never found anyone else and tells me she always loved me but was just angry.

I could not believe my ears,of course I still love her I always did we had been together for more than thirty years, but as I say I have moved on I had too in the end, so what do you do she calls me everyday begging me to come back I have explained I have moved on but she doesn’t understand this my heart feels for her sadness as I went through it, but theres no going back is there really , and it shows you there is light at the end of every tunnel you just have to wait for it

I needed Anne Hill’s advice–I had felt crazy, and much of it (too much) was already very true. I do need to get up every day and face my dragons…as my pajamas and reasons not to shower first thing in the day on the days I’m not working has become more and more appealing–though harder and harder to justify. And your other blogs, which I have only just discovered, provide much therapeutic relief and cathartic laughter…things that may not always seem funny, but ring so true, you just have to laugh–relieved I am not the first to have thought the same things.

As to your brother’s mentioning that your blogs have been a bit dull lately (a statement that, as a newly single mother of an 11 and 14 year old, I wholly disagree with), I thought of Rilke, and his advice in “Letters to a Young Poet”–advice I think applies to more than just writing:

“You ask whether your verses are any good. You ask me. You have asked others before this. You send them to magazines. You compare them with other poems, and you are upset when certain editors reject your work. Now (since you have said you want my advice) I beg you to stop doing that sort of thing. You are looking outside, and that is what you should most avoid right now. No one can advise or help you – no one. There is only one thing you should do. Go into yourself. Find out the reason that commands you to write; see whether it has spread its roots into the very depths of your heart; confess to yourself whether you would have to die if you were forbidden to write. This most of all: ask yourself in the most silent hour of your night: must I write? Dig into yourself for a deep answer. And if this answer rings out in assent, if you meet this solemn question with a strong, simple “I must”, then build your life in accordance with this necessity; your whole life, even into its humblest and most indifferent hour, must become a sign and witness to this impulse.”

This is an awful time for opinions and advice-giving–as though there is a right way to go about divorce, or as though anyone but you knows what it is like to be you. But I suspect, that like me, you feel the urge to write it out just the same–that just speaking it is cathartic and makes you feel less insane…For myself, I recently chose a confidant to whom I have expressed these fears and feelings. Unfortunately, my newfound confidant, despite their care and concern for me, is not as fond of verbal expression, and my long heart cries often elicit blunt one liners–many of which do not even touch the heart of the matter. There is a need to be heard, to be understood–I do not want advice, but then Google “how to survive divorce”. I do not feel the least bit sociable, but then cling to the first person to share genuine care and concern. I am a living anomaly, and do not know how to go about this new life, almost frozen into inaction with fear, while my two children look to me for direction and strength…

Okay, I digress. All to say, thank you, and please, don’t give up blogging.