7 Years

I haven’t written in a while. I haven’t known what to say or how to say it or sometimes even work out what I’m thinking enough to make it even half-literate!

For the past few weeks, building up to today in fact, I have felt like one big ball of anxiety. There are some situations that you can’t really prepare for, you’re not entirely sure what to expect, and often our minds make them worse than reality.  Sometimes however, those situations are all as difficult as we expected, but what is important to remember, is that we made it through. Perspective.

Today I saw my husband for the first time in 18 months for mediation. 18 months since I moved out, 18 months since he was last violent, 18 months since I came home to no home. Waking up this morning I was distracted, my head was messy and I felt sick with nerves. Outside me was calm, inside me was spinning in the fastest of circles.

I didn’t know what to expect. We hadn’t spoken except via Solicitors, I hadn’t seen him, and now we had two hours to fight out our differences. We were by no means mediating to reconcile, we were mediating to sort out our finances and the house.

It was so incredibly strange seeing somebody who I once shared everything with, and recognising nothing about them. Somebody I fell in love with, somebody I spent my holidays with, somebody I vowed to spend the rest of my  life with, somebody I gave everything to, now a complete stranger. 7 years of being a team is a long time. Perspective.

Rational police head on, tea in hand, I did it. I fought for what I knew I deserved, on the most part held it together, and on the most part concentrated on fact and not emotion. Tears were for afterwards.

I feel exhausted. The pressures I put on myself building up to today, generally without realising it, have all been released. Part of me certainly doesn’t believe that it’s done, that there quite possibly is no more fighting to be had, and part of me feels sad that this is nearing the end of the last 7 years of my life as I knew it.

That may sound slightly odd given everything that he put me through over the last couple of years. Sad may be deemed a strange emotion to be feeling. I don’t forgive him for what he did. I don’t forgive the behaviour. I don’t forgive the violence. I hate the fact that he has not once apologised or given me an ounce of explanation for what he did. But it’s the end of a chapter, the end of what I knew and potentially the end of who I thought I was. And that’s sad, and that’s allowed.

We cannot undo our pasts, we cannot go back with the knowledge we have now and re-live them, but we can learn from them. We can understand our worth, understand what we deserve, and do the one thing that we are all notoriously bad at, and put ourselves first for once.

Look after yourself, there is only one of you. x



One thought on “7 Years”

  1. I was where you are 17 years ago. 6 long years fighting fir my son and a divorce from his dad. Moved from Paisley to Morecambe son was 7. I made the right decision I closed the door on the past. Single parent 20 years it’s now time for me. Be proud move forward your not alone 💙💙💙 blessed Be


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