Flashback to just three years ago when I had my three children living with me.

At the time, I was in a stable long-term relationship. My partner and I had finally attempted to join our two families and live together, but it proved to be a difficult adjustment. Mostly because both of us had been dating while living separately for many years prior to that, but also because… while we were almost perfect for each other… we just weren’t.

After we eventually moved out of our shared home, we tried the living-apart-together thing for a year and a half. But then, I just couldn’t do it anymore.

Ten years with the love of my life, I now stumble in conversations that used to begin with… ‘My partner and I…’ where the story would have described some exciting adventure of the weekend before, or some plan for our next holiday, or a funny thing he said.

It was not an angry breakup, but a sad and resigned one. We had met for dinner to talk it out, and three hours later, after both sharing some gentle truths, we got into our own cars and drove away, to our own homes. Neither of us had done anything terrible or shameful. We just wanted things from each other that the other was not able to provide. Time to call it. It had been such a struggle and we were both tired.

Granted, as I write this, it’s only been a few weeks. I still can’t talk to anyone about it. I will. But not yet.

What I have learned now the hard way… three times in fact… is that ‘love is not enough’. When two people are not aligned properly, there is only so much bending and twisting you can do, to try to make it work.

I need to find out who the ‘real’ me is so that I can become the best version of myself. It is finally time to be on my own, whether I like it or not. I need to find some peace with that for the first time ever. I met my husband-to-be at the naïve age of 19. After eighteen years together, that relationship blessed us with three children, who lived mostly with me but visited their father as much as everyone wanted. It was amicable and we remain friends.

Back then, with young children to care for, it was a while before I entered into the dating game. But another two-year relationship followed that one. In hindsight, I rushed things and I take responsibility for my part.

Perhaps I fall in love too easily. More likely, I was just afraid to be alone.

Two of my three now-adult children have recently moved out. One has moved interstate for her amazing career, and the other has just set off on an overseas trip. He had already moved out on his own about 18 months ago. But the fact that he won’t be dropping in on the odd weekend like he used to, seems very difficult to get used to. Now it’s just me and my long-limbed, gentle, and caring 18-year-old flapping away, in this too-big empty nest.

I have to change my thinking to survive this. All my life, I wanted what my parents have. 57 years of love, and they are still going strong. My parents are joined at the hip. Their grandchildren call them ‘grandmapa’ and they love it. Like two halves of a whole, they are completely at ease with each other. They tolerate (AKA love) each other’s faults and idiosyncrasies.

My brother and sister are also happily married. With some sadness, I realize that I will never have what they have. It takes years to develop that kind of intimacy. It takes history and life experience and good times and bad times. It takes raising children and sickness and health. Even if I find someone else, I can’t ever create that kind of history now. Time is the enemy.

I have to relearn how to live so I can make the last half of my life as good as it can be. Sometimes, despite our best efforts, sometimes ‘shit (*life) just happens’. Sometimes we need to do a little sidestep or even a pivot. We need to take a completely different path so that we can keep moving forwards.

I know that once I have finished wallowing in this wave of sadness that seems all-devouring right now, I will be moving forwards. Backward, is not an option. What kind of an example would that set for my children? And what kind of a wasted life would that be? To be honest, it will probably be ‘two steps forwards and two steps back’ for a while, like some kind of drunken fool trying to find her car after a big night out. Not for long though.

I’m planning to go on some long hikes; by myself, with a tent on my back and enough food to last me a couple of weeks. I’ve already booked the first one. Hopefully, I won’t end up on the 6 o’clock news. I don’t think I will. I’m tough, I’m smart and I’m resourceful.

My twenties were for my husband. My thirties and forties were for my children, my career, and everyone else.

My fifties… who knows. Mostly for me, I think. We’ll see.

December 2022