A ringless finger, and other news

It's been a strange few months. Sorry for the silence. I didn't know how to write my way around the things that have been happening. But I think I can now.

Back in the Spring, just as my garden was beginning to reawaken, my husband and I decided to separate. I won’t go into the details as they’re not only mine to tell, but it’s sad and strange and also right for both of us. Telling the kids was awful - the hardest thing I’ve ever done - but now it’s out in the open and I’m slowly trying to process it all.

How do you disentangle 23 years of togetherness? What shape will the next part of my life take now that the future I’d imagined won’t happen the way it was meant to? What was my part in it all, and how do I do better? These are some of the questions I’ve been teasing out as I go about my days. I don’t have any answers, and I’m not sure there are any, but I’m taking things ‘bird by bird’ (as Anne Lamott advises in another context).

Last night I took my wedding ring off. It was stuck on and I nearly gave up, feeling queasy and scared, but I kept going. I remembered how my finger had swollen on my wedding day – I was eight months’ pregnant and expanding daily. We joked with the celebrant about having to force it on. And now I was forcing it off. When I finally got it over my knuckle it slipped the rest of the way down my finger. I noticed the groove that it has made, my body shaped by these years of marriage. There is a shadow ring in its place where my skin is pale. I wonder if I will expand, exhale, take up more space in the same way I feel my finger beginning to do.

In light of this, and another significant change in my circumstances, I’ve taken a full time copywriting job. I’ve been freelance for over 15 years and was ready for a new challenge - and regular money and hours, and working with other people. It feels good to have some structure and certainty amidst all the emotional upheaval. And I’m loving learning lots of new things. I’m still teaching creative writing and mentoring, but in the evenings now. My next Write Your Memoir course starts at the end of August (find out more here if you’re interested).

A home of my own

Not long after we decided to separate, my husband and I found ourselves alone abroad for the first time in over 20 years. We were at my cottage in Normandy, learning how to point walls with lime and sand. It was a kind, gentle time, patching up walls and cracks where we hadn’t managed to repair our relationship. There were difficult moments, of course, but I felt so grateful to have the cottage as my safety net if everything goes wrong. Or more wrong.

Two weeks ago we went back, with various kids and their friends, plus my brother, sister-in-law and nephew. The house was full and busy. We ate a lot, did jigsaw puzzles, painted shutters, laid gravel, collected wood to make a pergola and slashed at brambles. My heart was bursting.

What a privilege to have the prospect of a home of my own, when my children are all grown. For now, my husband (what else can I call him?) and I are trying to live together but apart in our rented house in Sussex, like many other ex-couples who don’t have the money to run two households or have chosen to keep the family unit together.

There is much more to say but I’m tired and woolly-headed. I haven’t uploaded photos or planned what to write here. But I wanted to say hello and explain my absence. If you have any advice or shared experiences, do add a comment. I’d love to hear how others have navigated these choppy waters. And thanks for being here.