And so on the first of July, the new chapter begins.  

Who knows what this one will hold? It’s all part of the intrigue. I remember thinking the same, this time last year, as I took myself hide away behind lock and key and to work through and draw a close to my chapter of grief.

 

As we return from London, and return back to our new home, it feels the key has been well and truly turned on the chapter of heartache, devastation and infidelity. Everything is gone. As I sit in my new kitchen, at my old kitchen table, looking out over the garden, watching the stripes appearing on the lawns behind the tractor mower and listening to the boys’ shrieks of laughter as they lose tennis balls, even the painful memories are fading away in favour of visions of future happiness here.

 

By sharing my story publicly, I have been saddened to hear the privately shared sorrow of others, where marriages, relationships, families have broken apart. Some stories similar, others less dramatic, but just as devastating and some even more heartbreaking.

 

And I wonder what made it possible for me to overcome what has happened. What has made it possible for us to move forward?

 

There have been so many factors, so many ingredients. 

 

Time, wine, tears. 

 

Compassion, vulnerability, courage.

 

Holding on, letting go and hard work on mind, body, soul, ourselves, each other.

 

Perseverance, gratitude, patience.

 

Acceptance, honesty, acknowledgement.

 

Friends giving us the distance we asked for and more importantly, the friends who didn’t.

 

Family. Unwavering. Forgiveness from and for all.
The persuit of happiness, in finding simple, small things and just choosing to be just that – happy.

 

But the one thing. The key that has locked away the past and unlocked the future, the key to it all has been love. 

 

My love for him, overpowering and healing any pain, soothing any scars.

 

His love for me, his heart too, cracked wide open, bringing forth his warmth and generosity, his appreciation, tenderness, selflessness, gratitude to levels that they overflow.

 

And just like the old key to this house, and the roses that creep all around it, holding it together, this house, this family, is love.

 

 

Today, I am going to be bold and say I was pretty brave. Perhaps doing something the many wouldn’t have faced. 
I held his hand as I walked toward the London pad the house of many memories, my first owned home and and a love nest. 
Today I wanted to supersede the latest memories here with ones to remain – as a family, with my family. 
But fuck me. I am sat on the pavement opposite looking at number 61 and thinking perhaps that was just one thing, one thing too hard to do. It’s the mirrors. The mirrors that totally freak me out. 
The mirrors and a reflection of who is looking back into them. And all the images… imprinted on my mind. I wonder if they will ever fade? I take photos of the boys and I to try and ‘reclaim’ my home, my memories, my mirror. But my eyes show too much sorrow rather than joy. 
So it’s time to go. I have walked each room, opened each drawer, cupboard, looked in every mirror. 
It’s time to let that piece of history go and be grateful that it is funding the future. My mud pit, my land, my dilapidated, listed building; aged with beauty and flaws, frayed around the edges, with secrets hidden, waiting to be discovered. 
And with that, the front door opens and out walks my future. My Tom. Wanting to know why I am sad. I hope he never knows…. or if he does, I hope he knows how strong we are and how strong we have become because of facing the challenge, facing the hardship and how we rose from being knocked down. 

‘Only good things can come of opening door 54’…. the words spoken to me by the clairvoyant I went to see after Mumbo died. I had no idea when that door would present itself or what the good things would be. 
At the time, with completely different plans for the future, I didn’t expect 54 to lead to a new home 9 months later and a complete overhaul of most of my life.
The door of number 54 belongs to a house where future prospects look incredible, amazing, full of laughter, peace and prosperity. So it was rather apt that it is also named ‘Prospect House’. 
And perhaps that is why we al fell in love with it, why we held on, held our nerve, let go and and let it come back.

Well.  Every good drama has twists and turns in the tale.  And today, was a cliffhanger, a potential disaster, a period of calm and re-planning and then a last minute complete around turn, leaving us on yet another cliffhanger as the banks and businesses closed.

 

And that was all while we loaded 2 huge lorries full of our life, the Big Man did a full day at work, I watched a school assembly and did the school runs and made numerous cups of tea.

 

In hindsight, I wonder if we took on too much all in one go..  But we have never been ones to talk ourselves out of anything.  We have never wanted a ‘comfortable’ or even ‘simple’ life, even though we are creatures of comfort and love the simples things in life.  We love the stretch, the adrenalin rush and excitement when all comes together.

 

After today, when everything fell apart, but may have just all come together again, I am exhausted and looking forward to the next 6 months and hoping they are far less eventful than the last 9, the last 18 months even.  I look forward to the simplicity of watching the sunsets and the sunrises from our new terrace, holding hands, feeling at peace and laughing in the face of everything that has happened.

 

(Crude image, but kind of sums up the ‘villain’ in this particular sub chapter who may well have just ruined 3 sets of couples summer…)

 

Back in December, I came across the Japanese proverb which inferred that all cracks, all breaks should be seen as beautiful and a way of introducing light on the subject.  I have kept that dear to my heart and mind in order to keep composure, heal my broken heart and relationship with the Big Man.

 

Today, as I look at the broken and cracked window panes, broken bricks and cracked sills, warped walls and crumpled plaster, I reminded myself of the same.  While the cracks and damage will be repaired, the light permeating isn’t necessarily a way of letting more sunshine in to the already beautiful living room, but perhaps a light to guide the way to find the right builders and architects to help us with our many projects we have in the house, the surrounding outbuildings and fields.  The two I met and discussed the current issue as well as the exciting plans ahead, are definite possibilities.  That is the light, providing hope and direction.

 

While we are so focussed on the now and how these moments will impact our future together, this evening was also a touch point with our therapist.

 

It is quite remarkable how far we have come.

 

The calm, open debate and relaxed discussion of this evening is a million miles away from the heated tirade and torrent of disgust that parted my lips and the tears of remorse and distressed anguish of a man faced with losing everything in his life just 9 short months ago.  The honest truth and obviously appreciative, loving thoughts and feelings shared between the two of us now, the mutual respect clear when in previous years had a couple sat on the sofa numbed with shame from hiding the truth, cold and agressive or acquiescent, desperate to please, small, hurt and frightened.

 

Looking back, it still hurts.  Really hurts to know what happened, but acceptance is beginning to solidify and close off the past events.  And even I can see the light, appreciate the beauty of the cracks that are being healed and sealed with gold.  And perhaps one day I will have the perspective and distance to know that they made us the incredible form and formidable force that we are and will continue to be, even if I can’t quite allow myself to recognise that now.

 

And I am even on the verge of thinking that there is a woman somewhere, who I hope is also healing, seeing the beauty of her scars and allowing her compassion to let light in, despite her decisions and actions.  Those thoughts are there… like the shark who watches in the murky light just out of sight, but that I just can’t quite hold on to, see and believe to be true.

 

But one day.  In another 9 months or another 9 years, maybe.  But tonight, I can see the light everywhere.

 

The only thing keeping me sane, keeping me focussed, inwardly centred and outwardly calm is the thought that on Sunday I will be making brunch, reading the papers, drinking coffee with the Big Man, listening to the sound of the radio and the boys racing around our new home.

 

That vision is keeping me sane.  Getting me through phone calls, emails, conversations and trying to understand the legalities and responsibilities for crashed cars in to buildings and boundary disputes.

 

I can smell the coffee. Taste the eggs.  Hear the laughter.

 

I can feel the relief.

 

130 hours to go….

 

 

 

The great big finger of the Universe continues to ‘play with’ or ‘test us’ – asking if this is really what we want? With each new negotiation, failed negation, change of date, it felt like it was asking…:

 

Do you really want to move?

Do you really want that house?

Do you really, really want to make it your home, build your future there?

Are you sure?

Are you really sure?

 

And after a beautiful Sunday, with solid, non judgemental, kind and loving friends, sitting in the garden, watching our kids kill each other in a raging 4 hour nerf war, we received a phone call that we just didn’t expect.

 

Are you really, really, really sure??? Asked the Universe?  Even after a car has crashed in to the bay window of your future living room?

 

I am reminded for the second time this week of Oprah’s words – that every experience is given to you to prepare you for the future. In this case, I reflect and am grateful that my mind was opened up to personal development, that I read up on mindfulness, kindness, spirituality, success and wealth. For all the tips of the world’s gurus are in my head, it’s time to breath, respond not react, be mindful, let it go… see the positive, the silver lining and the opportunity…

 

And as we drive away, having seen the damage, I only remember my excitement, the overwhelming, breathless excitement that this will be our home, where our future will play out in just 4 short days.  I only remember being greeted by the current custodians of the beautiful house with warmth which melted the shock and we all distracted ourselves from this strange turn of events by walking the gardens in the early evening light, letting them talk us through the different fruit trees, searching for young plums, pears and apples and walking the boundaries, hearing the history of each plant, flower and rose.  I only remember the delight of the boys choosing their rooms and the discovery of the secret, hidden doors.  I only remember the feeling, even though we don’t live there, that this is our true home, where my shoulders relax, my mind is clear and free and my heart sings.

 

Glass, brick, lintels, wooden paneling, floor boards and paintwork, they can all be left in the hands of the insurance companies and solicitors, while we just enjoy the moments of transition.                Because the answer, Universe…. Is still YES!

I can’t quite put my finger on it.  The out of body experience I seem to be having …

 

Is it from the adrenalin entering my body … or leaving it?

 

Is it from too much caffeine … or too little sleep?

 

Is it from too much excitement on the sports field….  or getting too much of a chill?

 

Is it from relief on realising we have made the right choice in the new school…. Or nerves about the big changes ahead?

 

Is it from the anticipation and thrill of our drive by of our new house…. Or melancholy from counting down the days from leaving our home?

 

I am jittery, leg shaking, heart racing, mind wired, too tired…

 

I just know I need to get dressed and go and eat some Japanese food, laugh, have fun and let my mind and body relax….

 

 

 

 

 

My life is in boxes.  Ironically in french fry boxes.  Another of life’s twisted jokes.

 

I have been feeling uneasy, queasy and off my food for the last couple of days.

 

Nerves?  We are on the end of the pontoon.  We are taking the final deep breaths before we run as fast as we can and launch ourselves off the end and in to the air.  In my mind, I am at the top of my mountain.  Looking through the haze in the valley below, knowing what is there, but can’t quite see.

 

This is a big step.  This is a huge leap of faith for me.  And my heart.

 

We are moving for all the wrong reasons.

 

And yet we are moving for all the right ones too.

 

Everything is about to slot in to place, just as it should, at the right time.  After a longer period than I had wanted, the Universe knows best.

 

It is the right time.

 

But I am still feeling nervous.  Which I take as a good sign.  I am no longer numb.

 

And I am still feeling sad. Sad to lose some of the key elements of my life for the last 10 years, but that have to be left behind in this chapter. As Oprah says you don’t have to hold yourself hostage to who you used to be and what you used to do.  The memories, particularly of the last 4 years, the connections and associations, still too tough to look at, touching too raw a nerve; who I was, what I did, who I spent time with.  They too are in a metaphorical French fry box and will remain in storage, be thrown on a bonfire or be left behind.

 

And I am sad.  Just because I am sad for myself and everything that has happened.  But I am ok with that and saying that out loud.

 

I am sure there will be excitement.  Oprah also says, in her top 10 rules for a successful life, that every experience, every moment is preparing you for the ones to come.  Everything is leading up to this point, giving me the courage to leap and faith to hold his hand.

 

“All you have to do is understand your next move.”

 

The next move, happens in 6 days time.

 

My life is in boxes.  Everything unbreakable anyway.  I wouldn’t trust the breakables to a French fry box.

 

Everything breakable, I carry with me.  My heart.  My boys.  And the Big Man, he can carry us.

 

 

Sitting in the sun, watching the boys eat tea at the garden table, Willy said, “Mummy, I haven’t seen you laugh for ages.  In fact, I haven’t see you smile a big smile for a long time.  Are you still sad about Granny Brooks?”

 

Today, I did feel as the though the sails of my ship were hanging limp, weathered by the storms.  My mizzen, my mast, my waist and stays creaking and leaking after the intense prolonged stress. But I did think that I had been able to smile when I saw the pretty rainbows in the clouds and rain and I certainly laughed when I saw the scattering of diamonds stars in the dark sky.

 

Children are so perceptive.  And with crumpets and tea, kisses and cuddles, it is time to anchor this ship and have an early night, and count those rainbows and diamonds and bring the laughter back tomorrow.