Me, not 'us'

Happy Womens’ Day

This is a day of celebration of women though, of course, every day should be a celebration of women really. Being me, and you really wouldn’t want to be me, it’s also a time of reflection and maybe even introspection.

When you’re suddenly made single after eight-and-a-bit years, there’s a lot of psychological unpacking to do. Being coupled-up was my life, then it wasn’t. It was, and still is, a shock to the system. But it’s not just that, there is the rearranging of ‘self’ as opposed to ‘us’ to sort out.

When you have lived with an ‘other’ for a few years, some of ‘them’ seeps into what is ‘you’. You both become a little of each other. Then, suddenly, you’re not. You find yourself looking at something like ‘mee sua’ on a Chinese restaurant menu and thinking “ooo, I’d rather like that”, then remembering it’s actually not one of your likes, but her’s. It happened just now. I was thinking about chicken thighs in tomato sauce for dinner tonight. Then I thought “it would be nice with fresh basil” and suddenly remembered that I don’t really like fresh basil. She liked that, not me.

This strange “who am I, really” has happened a few times recently. I guess that it’s because our ex-wedding anniversary is coming up (12th March), and I have to remember that we no longer celebrate it. Just like I no longer celebrate things like her birthday (June), Chinese Moon Festival or Chinese New Year. That was her, not me, ‘cause I’m all about Christmas and my birthday now, she wasn’t.

I’ve stopped drinking beer now, not for any religious reason but because I never did like beer, and only drank it to accompany her. I’ve gone back to having the occasional Bombay Sapphire and tonic, instead. Last week I was in a second hand book shop in Frinton (on Sea), and noticed three or four books on ‘Art Therapy’. For a moment I got all excited and wanted to buy them. But stopped. That wasn’t me, that was her. She was studying art therapy, and those books would have been a present from me, to her.

One-and-a-half years later and I am still discovering who I am, still unravelling, still unpacking, still trying to remember to forget what was ‘us’ and concentrate on what is ‘me’. It’s a journey into the unknown.

Nevertheless, Happy Women's Day