Oh Be Gone Gloom - I Don't Have Time To Be Sad

Odd how, every now and then, the shadow of sadness settles in my body, nestling around my heart like a hand in a glove, pervading my thoughts and stealing my mojo.

It’s been a great couple of weeks.  Life is moving on.  I have been feeling more buoyant than Zebedy and have been revelling in my ‘seize the day’ attitude.  I can handle anything!  C’mon Life, bring it on!

So why exactly did Ms Gloomy decide this would be perfect timing to pay me a visit?  And if I ignore her, will she take the hint and sod off back where she came from?

It’s not as if I didn’t have a great weekend, because I did.  I met up with a friend from London, bought clothes I can’t really afford (but which look FANTASTIC and were On Sale), drunk wine in daylight hours.  Ex even offered to have the boys for a few hours, so I could have my girly jaunt without having to pay a babysitter.  What’s not to love about this situation?  Things couldn’t be more civilised.

Maybe that’s the problem.  Sometimes I don’t want to be civilised.  Sometimes I just want to be MAD.  Sometimes I just want to wring Ex’s bloody neck, despite our amicability.  Maybe I need to invest in a bloody punch bag, not yet another pair of skinny jeans.  After all, my unresolved anger and disappointment is not going to be solved by throwing it at someone else's feet (even his), irrespective of the fleeting sense of satisfaction it might provide.  I can feel a therapy session coming on, no doubt about that.

After my frivolous afternoon with the girls I head over to Ex’s to pick up the boys, but he is unexpectedly serving them dinner.  “You can come up”, he offers.  The boys greet me at the door and then I am immediately assaulted by a small ball of fur, the size of your average rolled up sock.  New Girlfriend’s dog.  A small yappy type thing with less meat on its bones than your average sparrow.  “Hello Charlie”, I say, as I bend down to introduce myself.  I have heard a lot about this ‘dog’ (I use this term in the loosest possible sense...I am a dog lover but I’m not really sure, judging by the size of it, that this dog really qualifies).  The dog just yaps.  Incessantly.  It follows me around the room, barely two inches from my heels, voicing its extreme displeasure that I have entered his territory.  

I make an effort to be friendly but Charlie is having none of it.  I get the distinct impression that Charlie recognises me.  He has no doubt been shown my picture and been given the instruction ‘Yap To Kill’.  And, ever the faithful friend to his absent owner, he is intent on fulfilling his duty.  

The dog continues to yap, yap, bloody yap and I give up trying to be friendly and just ignore it.  The boys eat their dinner regardless and Ex tap, tap, taps on his Blackberry, hardly deigning to acknowledge my presence.  Oh this is nice.  Maybe I should have just waited outside in the car.  As Ex begins to tap out his 5th consequetive text I realise he is probably ‘talking’ to his New Girlfriend.  I wonder if he is sending her texts laughing about how her pitiful excuse for a dog hates me.  I should have just pulled out my Blackberry and mimicked his behaviour, but he was totally engrossed in his phone and I’m not sure he would have noticed.  Which is a fairly pathetic reaction to his dismissive rudeness.  Why is it that his inability to relax when I am around still gets to me?  I should be used to it by now - after all, it’s been the hallmark of our relationship for the past 3 years.  

The boys don’t seem to notice any tension - don’t seem to realise that their parents are in ‘parallel play’ mode.  They bounce happily backwards and forwards between us until it is time to leave.  As they are putting their coats on I can’t help but notice the closet is full of New Girlfriend’s boots, coats, running shoes.  I shut the image of their togetherness out of my mind, just as I attempted to ignore the book on the dining room table How To Start Your Life Anew With A Gluten And Dairy Free Diet!  Yet more evidence that my dog-hating, milk drinking, bread loving husband no longer lives here.

By 7.30pm the boys are sleeping soundly, as usual, and I am slumped in front of the television, as usual.  This is my life.  I have gotten used to the night-time solitude but every now and then I just feel so very sad that it has come to this.  It’s not a drowning, overwhelming type of unhappiness, more a gentle sigh of loneliness.  My life is full.  I am loved.  Yet still I am lonely.  My heart aches a little.  My eyes smart with a few tears.  Rather than resist it, I decide to go with the flow, the sound of the yappy type dog still ringing in my ears.  This sadness isn’t all of me.  But it is still a part of me.  Sometimes.  

Yet I long for the day when this is no longer the case.  When Ms Gloomy gets an early onset of dementia, loses my address and doesn't bother to call at all.