A note before I continue. I would like to take the opportunity of thanking Rowena for all the encouragement she has given me over the years. I know she will be reading this later; sorry this is late Rowena; I have a good excuse….,Hermione….
I’ve stopped counting the days, weeks and months and have resigned myself to the realisation that this is a lifestyle. I am grateful to my daughter (number 3), for reminding me that you can enjoy a massive salad with lashings of cucumber; I had forgotten how much. I am grateful for all my daughters and for them showing me the way back, after I completely lost my way. Divorce is like an illness….
Two years ago, my eldest daughter came to stay with me and was horrified at my diet of fast food from the supermarket. I was in one of those comatose states you get into when you are in denial. I knew what I was doing, but because, perhaps, I felt powerless to do anything about it, I did not want to hear about it. So, I must apologise to my eldest daughter. I am sorry. I have been a complete idiot. You are right. You were right. I didn’t used to be that way.
Two things that I have done differently this week:
Yesterday, I discovered some lovely Thai curry in my local Costa; I had retreated in there after being asked to cover a sickness at the last minute, and needed a 12 minute break from the shop I look after—(it’s a bit like babysitting), to stare into space, mostly. That was when I saw the pot sitting there nonchalantly, as pots do, and daring me to pick it up. I did, and was pleased to notice that there is only 2.6 % sugar per 100 grams. “So that’s a lot”. This could be my new mantra. You will only get this joke if you have been reading my tweets on twitter. I mean it isn’t a lot; my ah ha moment, or yours….
The second thing that happened was this; I walked into Co-op, which is my regular, and was completely unmoved by the CHOCOLATE. I mean completely; seriously; so much so that I was indifferent to it. No, I actually saw it for what it was; as if a veil had been lifted: Junk food. CRAP. Mutton dressed as lamb; sick food; food for the sick and dying. “Eat shit and die”, came to mind. The mantra of an ex….I trained him to eat his greens at the tender age of 19 (I was 19 and he was 23); those were the days when I cooked home cooked; home cooked everything, from pasta to pate to cakes.
When I have time, I’ll find a photograph for you of me then when I had the luxury of being a stay-at-home mum and was able to educate my children and home cook for them all. I’m grateful for the freedom of those 21 years of marriage; paradoxically, the freedom to create, to write, to cook, to nurture my children; what a gift those years were, even though I was unable to express my sexuality–(it was a bit like that book Chesil Beach–no it isn’t about a beach, and yes I do mean the book, if the film got made I haven’t seen it, have I? Well maybe I have, but I don’t remember, which is the same thing, isn’t it?)–throughout the whole marriage; and for that, I must take some responsibility, but so must society and religious doctrine….that is another story for another place….
Express yourself today; don’t be afraid. There is only love or the opposite, which is fear.
All my love, Hermione