Thursday, 12 April 2007

I am happy

I am happy. This is a delightful feeling, having been almost completely absent for, oooh, a long time. Sometimes it hits euphoric, other times it settles into contentment, which is the lasting feeling I am aiming for. But happy is good.
Don't get me wrong, I am also sad and tearful, having left my partner of ten years. And the exhaustion is quite incredible.
A friend likened it to escaping from a hostage situation, and she says such euphoria, sadness and exhaustion are quite understandable. I was certainly emotionally imprisoned, neglected and, towards the end, abused.
But I think we were both hostages, with my illness representing the captor. And it really screwed us up, seeing the illness like that, and in the end led to a very bleak existence. It was definitely time to get out.
Actually I wasn't a hostage, because I released myself, and in doing so released both of us and I don't feel like a hostage now that I am out of that situation. Because I am further along the road of acceptance. I am ill. I am going to be ill for a long time. I can't do many things I would like to be able to do. He found that hard to accept.
I don't have any bad feeling towards my ex. I understand why he became depressed, and why that depression turned into hatred and anger. And I in turn could be hateful and angry too. Because I wasn't being loved. I was being resented and hated.
It had to stop. When you remove all the twisted behaviour on both sides, it still isn't my fault that I am ill. I'm not abdicating responsibility for coping with being ill, but to hate someone for it...? He tried to cope, we both tried, but we couldn't adapt as a couple, so separating makes total sense.
And yes, all my divorced or separated friends are right. I wish I'd done it months ago, if not years.
But so much has gone RIGHT with this move that the sadness and exhaustion are bearable.
Things that have gone right:
  • My son's favourite Razorlight song was playing from a house on our new street when we walked up to our new front door. Then he found a penny and we saw a black cat. Superstitious, moi?
  • My son loves this place. He is, in fact, a different child. It's as if a weight has been lifted from his shoulders. Loads of his friends live nearby and people are being very kind and helpful all round. I believe in asking for help when it's necessary.
  • The sun has shone almost constantly since I moved.
  • We got to keep Ralph, our now officially adopted cat. And there's a really lovely story to this.
Ralph visited us at the old place for a long time. He is beautiful. We didn't feed him, being respectable sorts who are against catnapping, but in the end his (four) owners gave in as he steadfastly refused to eat back at theirs, then stopped going altogether.
I had to bite the bullet before the move and invite one of them over for the inevitable chat.
When they heard the circumstances and how attached my son is to Ralph, the four of them had a chat, then drew up an official adoption certificate stating that as my son had looked after him so well he was now officially the new owner. And that's official. Signed, laminated and on his bedroom wall.
It was honestly one of the nicest things anyone has ever done for us. It's because he's a very special cat and they really loved him, but they were still prepared to let him go.
I did them a watercolour, only wishing I was more expert with a brush.
Such generosity of spirit seems to abound at the moment.
More things that have gone right:
  • People are going to muck in and help us sort out the garden (it hasn't been touched for three years).
  • I had loads of help with unpacking.
  • I have felt so relieved and at home, and so quickly.
  • Everything I needed to happen just seems to have happened.

Beauty does exist in life. If you are in a bad situation, you can change it. And people can be caring, generous-spirited and helpful. Yes, I know I sound corny, but basic truths can be a bit like that can't they? And when you've lost sight of the truth, then regained it, you want to share it.


Peach said...

Dear Seahorse
You have no idea how your post cheered me today. I really shouldn't be so down, so many others have so much more to bear than I and yet I am a bit at the moment, and I'm usually not the depressive type at all. So to find your uplifting post about the cat and the sun and the move and your son and your spirit through your illness and your divorce is quite edifying, thank you XXX

fluttertongue said...

Wonderful wonderful. How lovely it is to be happy! It's as if Spring has somehow filtered right into my room via your post.

seahorse said...

Oh gosh both, you brought a tear to my eye. It felt good to be able to post in my own space. I feel my writing, my concentration, my very self returning, little by little.

The Goldfish said...

Ditto to what the others said; spring time in text. I am so happy for you, especially this feeling arriving so soon after the move. It'll take a while to settle down, I know, but an excellent start. Congratulations. :-)

Sally said...

So happy for you Seahorse.
Cats do decide who they are going to live with, and choose carefully.

seahorse said...

Sally and Goldfish thanks. It has been a magical calming of the waters. My son said tonight he feels like he's been living here forever. It's so weird, but such a gift after a hellish couple of years.

Anonymous said...

Yes, I have a tear or two in my eyes after reading that too. Er, um, ahem, what I mean is ... oh gosh, it's a bit dusty round here. Oh yes. That's right. Dusty.

[And Seahorse, I owe you an email or two from way way way back. I am useless and neglectful. Forgive me?]

Lady Bracknell said...

Good news indeed. Long may the three of you have a happy home together.

seahorse said...

Unreliable Witness! Welcome to my housewarming party. I always did like parties that happened spontaneously. Don't worry about way way way back as I'm far too overjoyed with the dawning of the way forward. And you are of course forgiven.

seahorse said...

Lady Bracknell thank you. This is all making me feel SO happy I think I may just float off my chair. There's a wonderful picture at the end of a children's story where a cat who has been through trying circumstances and triumphed sits smiling, all warm and fuzzy in soft smudgy watercolours. I am that cat.

marmiteboy said...

I have an adopted cat that seems to have made my kitchen her home. She has been given the name Podge (Lily named her for her emormous girth) and my Marmite and Twiglet are friends with her.

She won't come any further than the kitchen though which is quite sweert in a way.

seahorse said...

Podge, what a great name. Unusual to find the felines in residence so accomodating. You have very hospitable cats. Ralph is a bit bananas today. The time to let him out is approaching. Some people say a few days, others a few weeks. We'll settle for somewhere inbetween.

David said...

I'm so glad you're feeling happy. May you have many more happy times ahead.

seahorse said...

Thank you David,this really is a heartening and goodwill-affirming comment session :-)

soulful sepulcher said...

I found your blog via Bipolar View (SE).
I just wanted to tell you that this post speaks volumes to me. By the time I got to the part about the laminated certificate on the wall--tears streamed down my face. What a beautiful thing they did, my gosh. Take care, and I hope you continue to have much happiness.

seahorse said...

Oh Stephany, I'm moved that you were so affected. But such loveliness in people can make you cry, and I did too.