I guess I always hoped I wouldn’t be 47 and looking to start my life over once more. Forty seven with three kids too. Hmm. Not the easiest situation to go through, but I have been through worse and survived. I’m still here right? Every day above ground is a gift.
How we got to this situation is perhaps something which will need to be explored fully in my memoirs, but right now it’s time to make plans.
We live in a big house and I have said I will leave. I have not said when I will leave, so I do have some leeway. If I go now – and I have looked – there will be some expenses incurred. Rentals are bloody expensive. Prohibitively so. The cheapest rent on a house in my home town, for a two bed house in a not great area, is £600. Then there’s bills on top. Let’s assume £1000 a month all in. But, you see, I do have another option. I have been renting out my other house for the last six years. It’s always been my little escape plan. Its still there and I have somewhere to go.
With just a hint of sentimentality I think back to when this happened before. How I left Jenny and Tom behind and moved back to my old house. I always said that I would never repeat that journey…
…but it is what it is.
The boys. Oh hell, the boys. I feel a deep sadness that we have not been able to make this work. I wanted them to have the perfect home and the perfect upbringing. It has never been the perfect upbringing and I think I have spent the last three years kidding myself that this could work. It can’t. We’re not compatible for a long term relationship. It does upset me, sure it does, but I need to put on a brave face, keep things as normal as I can for them, and forge ahead with a reset and a restart.
