Real Housewife of Suffolk County

Monday, 5 October 2015

Adulting Part II

Making the decision to separate from my husband wasn't easy. It was something that had been on my mind, and maybe his, for a long time.
When there is a marriage, a house, and two children it's not an easy decision to make at all. It wasn't as simple as "let's seperate" "Ok sure!". And that was part of what kept me there, at home, unhappy, for a while.
All of the other things to consider and to take into account and having to mentally process it all. Creating lists of what had gone wrong, what was right, what could we fix, and as much as I tried my best to keep hold of what I thought we had, and what I thought was right, there was one word that I just kept going over and over. And it was happiness.

That was the priority. For me, for him, for the children and for our families. Because that was something that kept going around in my head. I obviously confided in my mum, and my brother, about how I was feeling and it didn't seem fair to put that onto them. The worry, concern and so on.

It didn't seem fair to feel like we had to pretend to be happy together. And although I asked a few times if he was happy, and he said yes, I felt that it wasn't the case.
I felt like the boys were young enough to be able to go through this separation with us still being able to hide any anger, for them to be able to be unaware of certain emotions and situations, conflicts and so on. We are able to make it a little easier by making a fuss of things like two Christmasses, two bedrooms, two houses.
I felt it only right to explain to Charles what is going on, so he knows the full situation, and I feel so lucky to have a son with such a sensitive, emotional, understanding heart because he accepted that mummy and daddy don't love each other anymore but will stay friends (at least we will keep communication polite for the sake of the boys).

On Saturday my second "adulting" experience happened. I tidied and cleaned the house better than I ever have before. Which with no coffee, food, and a hangover wasn't easy or fun. But I did have a real sense of achievement.
At 3pm the estate agent pulled up in her super clean white car....I swear this is standard colour for estate agents...of course I am only basing that on the fact that I have been in an estate agents car and it was white so it's a totally scientific based on that alone.

I was totally fine about an estate agent looking around our house. It has a weird feeling around it at the moment, I think mainly due to me trying to disconnect from it but also due to me sleeping on the sofa and not having a space of my own there.
I have my mind elsewhere with distractions and other things to help not feel so emotional about what is actually going on.
But as we sat on the sofa and she discussed the estimate, and the process, including the fact that they would show potential buyers around I all of a sudden felt my eyes tingle.
I pictured me showing a couple around, who would be planning their family or indeed already have children.
Their children would take over the space that my children now have. The space that is theirs, that they can do what they like in (within reason) . The space that makes them feel safe.
Their rooms that I have slept in, numerous times when they were poorly, being breastfed, or just in need of a cuddle.

For a minute or two I remembered what it was like when it felt like home.
When I felt comfortable, safe, and warm there. When I felt I could relax, be happy and live.
And I cried a little bit. Not for long, but I felt that I needed to let that emotion come and let it ride itself out.
And it did. And at this time, as I sit at my mums, the place I feel comfortable, safe and warm, happy and relaxed, I think of that semi-detached house, the one that was once so full of happiness and love, and it doesn't feel like home.
It feels like a building.
But the thought that soon enough, I will be possibly showing other people around, people who will potentially fill that house again with happiness and love and call it their home, makes me feel strange.
Maybe a little jealous...

I was glad that my mum had come round to help me out with the boys and to be there when I spoke to the estate agent. I didn't even think about asking about commission and prices and she thankfully did.
It's a super daunting experience especially when it's not due to a happy or exciting circumstance and at times I don't feel old enough to be doing such grown up things like this.

But as with this whole process, it's adulting. And it's part of life.
Except this part won't include the killer heels, and will instead involve a heart filled with a little bit of hope that one day I will be back somewhere that feels like my home.
Just as this one used to do.

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