Week 4...and the rest...

Week 4

Mindful Monday.

I wake up every morning and the first thought that comes in to my head is; what am I going to do? WHERE AM I GOING TO LIVE IF I HAVE TO LEAVE THE HOUSE? Neither of us knows where we’re going, but then we didn’t seem to know where we were going anyway. There was no malice involved…Pollyanna married the Prince of Darkness ….and it just didn’t work out…

Therefore, in keeping with the recommendations in self-help books 1 and 3, which I am following religiously, I have joined a Meditation class. The answer to everything, apparently, is learning how to be “in the moment”. This plus the Wednesday yoga class and 3 sessions per week in the gym should keep me calm and “grounded”. I suppose I could nail my feet to the floor and that would keep me even more “grounded”.  It would make getting to work a bit awkward though.

OMG! I got thrown out of the meditation class. Not my fault! What happened was this; the instructor decided to do a “Movement Meditation”. This involved all 18 of us, men and women, walking as slowly as physically possible, in whichever direction our feet took us, up, down and across the sports hall, in slow motion. No talking, no noise.  All round me people were lifting their feet and putting them down excruciatingly slowly, with heads lowered and arms swinging loose. Then it hit me; “Night of the Living Dead” – we looked like Zombie Prom Night as we criss-crossed each other in the School Hall. So then of course I had a fit of the giggles – ok I was shrieking with laughter - involuntarily. It was just so funny…

We had to file back into the meeting room, and resume our places in the circle of chairs. I apologised and explained… I couldn’t help it, I started laughing again. What could I say? It’s not my fault that I have a mind like a grasshopper. So then it was suggested (very, very calmly) that perhaps I wasn’t yet ready to commit to a ten week course in meditation.  So that’s it. I’m barred. I did learn from it though….I found out that it’s not so much that my mind wanders…it’s that it’s very seldom at home.

Red-rag-to-a-bull Letter Tuesday

The first legal document comes today in the post. A draft “Separation Agreement”.  My stomach is churning. He says my solicitor has issued the wrong thing; he points out that it doesn’t mention “divorce” anywhere and is titled in large letters “SEPARATION AGREEMENT”. I’m naively assuming that it’s correct, that maybe this step must be undertaken before we reach the divorce stage? He consults his legal advisor; it IS the wrong thing. Rang my solicitor; sorry, no, it wasn’t to be a separation agreement it was to be the divorce thing. Was there a misunderstanding? Ok. A divorce application will be drawn up. More paperwork. More stress. More stomach churning. And this is only the beginning.

 For supper I had an organic soya yoghurt and herbal tea. It was as boring as it sounds. Even the glow of self righteousness as I went to bed (early) didn’t make up for it.

Drink and Yoga Wednesday

The class started at 8 pm with a lit candle and deep breathing. By 9 I was surreptitiously looking at my watch, expecting it to read 10.30 at least. I stuck with it till it finally finished at 9.34 and thirty seconds.  Then ran out and hit the off licence on my way home. I’m really working very hard at this de-stressing and relaxing and going with the flow. God I’m worn out trying to improve myself.

Build-a-bridge Thursday

Played Bridge tonight. Trying to behave as if everything is normal. Nothing feels normal.. In a way it’s like how I felt 25 years ago, when the hospital doctor told me my father’s illness was terminal. I remember leaving the hospital.  I remember going round the supermarket wondering how everyone and everything could go on as if nothing had happened, when the world had spun on its axis. I feel the same now. Adrift. Certainties gone. Rocks shifting.

At the Bridge table, my head hurts. My scalp hurts. But- can’t let your partner down. Not the done thing. Wouldn’t like to anyway. Then I played so badly… Maybe I’m getting early onset dementia or something. I might as well have been playing “Snap”. Kept seeing little placards pop up in my mind saying “But…what if…what should I do…what will happen to me…” then I’d put the wrong cards down on the table.

Don’t let anyone tell you Bridge is a genteel game for ladies and gentlemen. It’s a blood sport.  It goes without saying that I, being a lady, would never be anything but polite and pleasant to partner and opponents; after all it’s just a game, and only good manners. A view not shared by all. I’ll say no more. Just wondering if I should go the police and say a man at the Bridge club said he was going to kill me…and strangely enough, it wasn’t my husband.