On the first of January, I marked 12 years since my big relationship ended. That day, I took the children to a new year family gathering while he moved his things out. On return there was an empty wardrobe (the worst sight and quickly filled with coats so the children wouldn’t see), and it surprised me that he took the household tool kit, leaving me with no ability to fix the plethora of little jobs which pop up hourly when you have two six-year-olds and a 9-year-old, and yet left me things ‘for the bin’.

We’ve known each other since I was 13 and he was 15. We were together 17 years from ages 21 and 23. We still know each other well. We still share Christmases and holidays. Not all that much changed when he moved out and the children have always stayed with me. My anger eventually gave way to a gentle sorrow after I reframed him in my head as an excellent, the best, babysitter and not the ‘dad’ I’d imagined. I’m just sad it wasn’t different. But we have what we have, it’s odd, it works in its own non-conformist way.  

I took ill yesterday and write this from bed. I thought I had a vomiting bug causing me bad dizziness. I’m a little better today. I needed his help yesterday, I asked, he helped.  

It took his text to make me see. “I’m not nagging you but…when will they start taking responsibility for themselves? It’s making you constantly ill. You’re nearly 50, no second chances.” The way we parent is completely different. He was thrown into adult life at the deep end and is sure that was the catalyst to give him the successful career he has. I was also thrown into adult life at the deep end and I’m sure it was the catalyst for my life long messy surf through depression.  

And, although I initially muttered swear words upon receipt of his text, I did listen, and I did hear.  He is correct. I need to do less for them and more for me. I’m rarely, almost never, physically ill (plenty mental health journeys) but in the last 12 months I’ve had an unexplained virus, followed by covid, followed by a flu-style virus, followed by a heavy cold, followed by this (vertigo?).  It is time to look fresh at how I live. Good nutrition is ticked but it doesn’t have a cat in hell’s chance of working solo.  

What is my message today? It’s that hitting rock bottom doesn’t need to hurt, it’s a place to push roots into earth and dream of how it will look when you reach up.  

Love from 

The room above the garage 

A Moodscope member