Recovering An Independent Future

To use a royal quote, 2007 was my 'annus horribilis' and proved the saying that disasters come in threes. My husband died at the end of May, the exactly two weeks later the heavens opened and the village flooded redesigning my garden as well as the outdoor office, and finally, drowning my cat, Perdy. It's hard to make sense of a series of events like that. I had to keep thinking that something better was round the corner. These dark days seemed to go on forever, almost like I was in a different time zone to everyone around me. When I met a man a year later I think many people thought 'its just a year' whereas to me it felt like a decade had past and I was ready for a happy ending.

I spent some time with an old friend at the weekend and she mentioned that her parents sent their love.
 'I bet they think I'm a disaster zone' I said.
'No' she replied 'they just think you don't have much luck'.

I am recovering from so many life events at the moment they are all jumbled up in my head. I described it, when asked, as 'a difficult season' and I hope to God that the new year is a turning point. The big change is not outside me though, it is in me - I am no longer expecting a white knight to come along and save me from all this. I know that I have to do this myself.

My happy ending turned into a nightmare. Last September the man I'd met, who became my husband, walked out after only 3 years of marriage. Apparently my MS, as well as my personality, was too much to handle. Then the same weekend my friend died after a long illness. I was so shellshocked by the end of my marriage that it didn't sink in. Then I woke in the middle of the night to a strange beeping noise. I opened the door to find the house filled with smoke - the drying logs next to my log burner had caught fire. I realised it would take the fire brigade so long to get here that I would need to put it out. Two buckets of water later I opened all the doors and windows and woke up my friend who was staying overnight. We wrapped ourselves in blankets, with large mugs of tea and tried not to cough our lungs up. A bit of cleaning later, and the house was back to normal, but we were scared to death. Then two days before Christmas, Miss Moo, my white tortoiseshell cat deteriorated so badly I had to take her to be put down. Moo was my familiar, my shadow and the one of the best things I have ever done in my life. In 6 years she had developed from an abused little scrap to a fat, bold, and loving companion who rarely left my side. I cried for most of the night before the trip to the vet and then receded into the same numbness I'd been feeling for the last three months.

So here I am in 2013 in a place of transition. The marital home is up for sale but I'm still living in it. I am going through the endless process of getting divorced and reaching a financial settlement. I am going to be 40 towards the end of this year and I feel I am coming up to some huge watershed moment. Yet it seems the trick of this particular recovery journey is not to wait for the next thing to happen, but to learn to live and enjoy living within the chaos. I also want to 'set out my stall' - discover how I want to live, just me, and then make it happen.

With this in mind I have been creating some great memories as well as the difficult ones. Visiting the Ritz for tea was a particular treat and spending the week before Christmas at Mousehole and viewing the gorgeous light festival was the start of an annual tradition. I am creating a new life full of new experiences with friends and family and developing work I really enjoy. Even just sitting in front of the fire with a good book or taking the dog for a walk in the frost feels ok. When I am alone I don't feel lonely.

Embracing this new independent spirit I have a 'turning 40' plan. I want to celebrate my new life with one of the best role models in literature by having a Jane Eyre tattoo; a beautiful vintage birdcage, with the door open and the little bird flying away with the quote: 'I am no bird: and no net ensnares me'. Here's to my independent future.