It is NOT the same

word cloud widow

OK – I have got my ranty pants on here because I am So Tired of hearing the following statement:

“You are lucky – my husband is such an arsehole – I wish He was dead”.

Usually uttered by my divorced friends who keep on telling me How Much Tougher they have it due to custody battles and financial settlements.

And I understand that at this point in time, they truly hate the person they once loved.  That they are hurting and feel betrayed by love.  That legal battles are not fun. Disputes over children are fraught with emotion and righteous indignation.   Financial hardship is hurting their lifestyle.
And I feel the hate for their husband emanating from their mouths in steams of vitriolic rage.

But.

Being widowed and being divorced are NOT the same.

I listen to all these reasons quietly, repeating in my head that the do not know what they are saying because they have not walked in my shoes.

I deeply love my husband.  Still.

I  cry myself to sleep every night.  Still.

In my darkest moments, I fine tune my exit strategy.  Still.

I look upon the compensation payout as blood money.
I am sick of the ongoing legal battle for the insurance company to pay out the full amount of compensation.
I am still trying to live day-to-day on a single wage and the entirety of ALL expenses fall on my shoulders.
I am worried about what will happen to my-husbands-now-MY-share of the farm that is jointly owned with his brother who can’t see that I need the money from the sale of said farm more than I need to retain ties with a farm that I am convinced caused the premature deaths of both his parents.
I tire of being the only adult making major life decisions that affect our children.
I would dearly love to find a great bloke and fall in love again …. but   Greg set the benchmark so high that I doubt I will ever meet another soul who is so perfectly imperfect for me.  Even if I was ready.

But I don’t say anything in response to these friends who tell me that death is easier than divorce because their Dad died and they had to put up with their batty mother who went  insane and life was still so much better than being divorced ….  I don’t comment that losing a father is not the same as losing a husband and I don’t say that almost every widow I know has thought of suicide at one time or another and I don’t point out that her mother’s insanity was probably deep grief mixed with depression and terror.

But perhaps I should.

Perhaps I should say the one thing I know to be true:

Death and Divorce are NOT the same and until you have walked in both sets of shoes and reflected on each experience through the distance of time, please do NOT tell me how much harder you’ve got it.

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Hope Bubble

bokeh cup hdr

It is December again.
It should be time to sink into the December blues of Christmas and New Year alone again.

…and now with added unemployment due to Newman’s job cuts.

But I seem to be floating on a tiny bubble of hope instead.

I saw a psychic a few weeks ago.
(Whether you believe in spirituality or not, in the end, she was cheaper than a psychologist and I felt much better afterwards.)
Perhaps because she told me to give myself permission to let go of the things beyond my control.
Like another contract for next year….. I have worked my hardest all year and have to trust that all I have done will be enough to land a job somewhere.
She also gave me hope that I will meet another man who I wont want to run screaming from.
Whether its fake or not, it feels nice to have hope.

…and I am enjoying things more than I otherwise would.

  • Miss K got an academic award at school today.  I was overjoyed for her.
  • Mum and Dad are buying another puppy that the kids will be able to play with all holidays – this thought fills me with child-like joy as I keep looking at the pictures of the puppy they are collecting this weekend.
  • H has been delighting me with his own brand of humour.
  • Both kids have had a great year at school.
  • I get to see my friends through the holidays.

Maybe it all is a big bubble that will pop any second now, but until it does, I’m going to relax and enjoy the feeling of peace.

Update: I do have a job next year – at another school where someone remembered how awesome I am and called me.   I have accepted this job and am glad to be done with my current (lying, misogynistic, sly, sleazy, cunning, intellectually-dumb) boss.  But leaving the school that I love and teachers (well most of them) that I value still hurts.