I have spent the last ten years expecting something to happen. Doing double takes at gigs. Occasional heart beat escalation looking sideways on the street. Glancing at something that looked familiar but turned out not to be.
It's amazing that two lives that were entwined for thirteen years just stopped crossing paths. Except of course, the awful 18 months of sorting out legal stuff surrounding house sales and division of assets. Since that final moment of splitting money, closing a joint bank account and walking away outside an inner suburban bank, I've not seen my Ex.
For anyone not on the long blog journey with me, you can play catch up to those horror times from around my June 2009 posts. Oh boy. So much awfulness and the opposite of how you'd want any break up to play out. But last weekend it finally happened.
It was a mutual friends 50th birthday party. I knew he would be there. So for weeks...months if I'm honest...that info just sat in the back of my head. OK. Confession time. I would usually want to plan what I wear to a party. Make sure I feel a bit fab as I walk out the door. But, this had an extra layer of wanting to look smokin' and fearless. Somehow, the right skirt would be a shield to protect me from the past.
Luckily, a dear friend who has known me forever, offered to drive me and hold my hand as I navigated the weirdness. As if turned out, I'd had a stressful and exhausting week at work and attended the climate strike the day before. I felt physically shattered, but hoped sympathetic lighting and a good lipstick would hide my tiredness. Deep breath. Here we go.
Peter and I had spoken during the week. There was a possibility that this might be ok. It might be an opportunity for the Ex and I to leave the memories behind and find ourselves in a new place regarding the break up. A chance to let go and leave the past in the past. It had all happened ten years ago and I'm not the person I was then. Maybe my Ex would feel the same.
After wishing the birthday girl a happy birthday I noticed a familiar silhouette behind her. I looked at my wing woman. 'Fuck I need a drink'. The first G&T didn't touch the sides. We chatted to other friends at the party. Too noisy for proper chats and catch ups. Drink number two. I decided to go say hello to other friends I hadn't seen in years. They are on the other side of the relationship Berlin wall. Friends on social media, but more paths that haven't crossed. Hugs and kisses. Smiling faces. Lovely.
Then out the corner of my eye I saw my Ex. Standing about a metre away. This seemed ridiculous. My heart was beating fast and I began to feel sick. The tension in my body at feverpitch. I picked up my empty glass to look like I was going to the bar. I walked forward and stood in front of him, looking up. I thought of tapping his arm, and saying hello. He stared over the top of my head, watching the band playing on stage. It felt like we were two polarised magnets, with a forcefield around us. Close, but ultimately repelling each other away. He wouldn't make eye contact with me. This whole incident only played out over seconds but it felt like forever. It's all too fucking hard, I thought, and walked on. I found my friend and I decided the room was too small for my Ex and I to try to avoid each other all night. I also didn't want to be the cause of tension at a party. And with that. we left.
My dear friend offered to go back in with me if I wanted to give it another shot. The reality is I didn't want to. I had anticipated awkwardness. I had feared abuse or anger. I didn't know what to do with this reaction. Peter and I spoke when I got home. He was as disappointed as I was that it played out how it had. It took days to process this in my head. Ultimately I don't want or need to be friends with my Ex. I had hoped that time may have given us perspective and enabled the past to be 'another country', as they say. It certainly feels like it is. Something that happened to a different person. My 30s self was quite different to my 40s self.
So, days after first contact, how do I feel? I had hoped this meeting would allow me to let go of some painful memories. And weirdly it kinda does. Just not in the way I imagined. Although what happened during the break up has shaped me, I can't carry it any more. The voicelessness I felt to get through the process of untangling myself from him does not need to continue. I am older and louder than I was. I have strong opinions and stronger friendships. Ultimately I can let go of the past as I don't recognise that place any more. I have rebuilt myself.
If paths cross again I'm sure it will still feel hellish. I've come to the conclusion that some broken things cannot be fixed. They will forever remain in pieces. That's just how it goes. Life isn't 'happy endings' with moments of self reflection and enlightenment for all. Sometimes it just stays messy and painful. But I got through it. First contact.
It's amazing that two lives that were entwined for thirteen years just stopped crossing paths. Except of course, the awful 18 months of sorting out legal stuff surrounding house sales and division of assets. Since that final moment of splitting money, closing a joint bank account and walking away outside an inner suburban bank, I've not seen my Ex.
For anyone not on the long blog journey with me, you can play catch up to those horror times from around my June 2009 posts. Oh boy. So much awfulness and the opposite of how you'd want any break up to play out. But last weekend it finally happened.
It was a mutual friends 50th birthday party. I knew he would be there. So for weeks...months if I'm honest...that info just sat in the back of my head. OK. Confession time. I would usually want to plan what I wear to a party. Make sure I feel a bit fab as I walk out the door. But, this had an extra layer of wanting to look smokin' and fearless. Somehow, the right skirt would be a shield to protect me from the past.
Luckily, a dear friend who has known me forever, offered to drive me and hold my hand as I navigated the weirdness. As if turned out, I'd had a stressful and exhausting week at work and attended the climate strike the day before. I felt physically shattered, but hoped sympathetic lighting and a good lipstick would hide my tiredness. Deep breath. Here we go.
Peter and I had spoken during the week. There was a possibility that this might be ok. It might be an opportunity for the Ex and I to leave the memories behind and find ourselves in a new place regarding the break up. A chance to let go and leave the past in the past. It had all happened ten years ago and I'm not the person I was then. Maybe my Ex would feel the same.
After wishing the birthday girl a happy birthday I noticed a familiar silhouette behind her. I looked at my wing woman. 'Fuck I need a drink'. The first G&T didn't touch the sides. We chatted to other friends at the party. Too noisy for proper chats and catch ups. Drink number two. I decided to go say hello to other friends I hadn't seen in years. They are on the other side of the relationship Berlin wall. Friends on social media, but more paths that haven't crossed. Hugs and kisses. Smiling faces. Lovely.
Then out the corner of my eye I saw my Ex. Standing about a metre away. This seemed ridiculous. My heart was beating fast and I began to feel sick. The tension in my body at feverpitch. I picked up my empty glass to look like I was going to the bar. I walked forward and stood in front of him, looking up. I thought of tapping his arm, and saying hello. He stared over the top of my head, watching the band playing on stage. It felt like we were two polarised magnets, with a forcefield around us. Close, but ultimately repelling each other away. He wouldn't make eye contact with me. This whole incident only played out over seconds but it felt like forever. It's all too fucking hard, I thought, and walked on. I found my friend and I decided the room was too small for my Ex and I to try to avoid each other all night. I also didn't want to be the cause of tension at a party. And with that. we left.
My dear friend offered to go back in with me if I wanted to give it another shot. The reality is I didn't want to. I had anticipated awkwardness. I had feared abuse or anger. I didn't know what to do with this reaction. Peter and I spoke when I got home. He was as disappointed as I was that it played out how it had. It took days to process this in my head. Ultimately I don't want or need to be friends with my Ex. I had hoped that time may have given us perspective and enabled the past to be 'another country', as they say. It certainly feels like it is. Something that happened to a different person. My 30s self was quite different to my 40s self.
So, days after first contact, how do I feel? I had hoped this meeting would allow me to let go of some painful memories. And weirdly it kinda does. Just not in the way I imagined. Although what happened during the break up has shaped me, I can't carry it any more. The voicelessness I felt to get through the process of untangling myself from him does not need to continue. I am older and louder than I was. I have strong opinions and stronger friendships. Ultimately I can let go of the past as I don't recognise that place any more. I have rebuilt myself.
If paths cross again I'm sure it will still feel hellish. I've come to the conclusion that some broken things cannot be fixed. They will forever remain in pieces. That's just how it goes. Life isn't 'happy endings' with moments of self reflection and enlightenment for all. Sometimes it just stays messy and painful. But I got through it. First contact.
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