Heal – Laugh – Live

This morning (very bloody early I might add, here in the UK) our house sold, which means I’m another step closer to finally being free and clear to really start living this new life, this fresh start and this whole new beginning.

It feels like a huge hurdle has been overcome and a tremendous weight lifted off my shoulders.

Although there are still some legal issues that my ex-husband is stalling, delaying and refusing to finalise for reasons which are beyond anyone’s comprehension other than his apparent need to maintain some semblance of control, I am another step closer to finally having agency over my own life.

The empowerment I currently feel is beyond words that I can fully express here.

The liberation, the release of tension, the deliverance from an entanglement that no longer want to be any part of is truly intoxicating.

Whilst the house was a place where the girls grew up and will always hold immeasurable special memories of our times together as a family unit, those times are now long gone, that illusion shattered, those relationships obliterated and likely beyond repair .

It no longer holds any meaning for me and I feel no loss at it passing on, only the hope that it has passed on with love contained within it for whom ever moves in and that they experience it as a place of joy, happiness, connection and somewhere to create beautiful, loving and happy family memories to last them a lifetime of their own.

When I left, I did so leaving almost everything behind apart from a few special mementos, that meant something important to me and that are now safely tucked away for the future when I finally decide what that looks like.

That means there’s a house full of furniture that will need to be dealt with and I’m afraid that’s not going to be a me problem, because I’m on the other side of the world with no intention of coming back to sort it out.

I’m sure that’s what others thought was going to be the case, that I was gonna sit there indefinitely, silently, obediently awaiting my instructions to fulfil all the obligations of a quasi-wife, that comes with moving or selling a house full of furniture to goodness knows where, always accommodating the needs of others.

But I’m afraid that’s no longer a me problem, and nor is it going to be. I’m sure I will be punished as a result and not compensated financially in anyway for any of the items sold. Revenge and punishment are a big part of deliverance for the vindictive and malicious, but I couldn’t care less for the material things for I’ve realised that my freedom is of more value than any second hand couch or TV ever could hold.

My new beginning really will be a completely fresh start, with a clean slate and one hell of a shopping spree once I decide where to settle and what I will need.

In the meantime I have absolutely everything I could possibly want, am thriving in ways I wouldn’t have thought possible six months ago.

I’m meeting new friends, building a soul family and making plans for trips across the pond, with one definite visit already in the works- an Aperol Spritz in Tuscany already lined up with a friend who is shortly moving to Germany from Australia.

If you had told me when I was lying in that bed at the Royal Melbourne Hospital in a critical condition, my now ex-husband choosing to leave me in my most desperate time of need to attend a completely unnecessary meeting in Sydney, (not to perform brain surgery or save a life mind you) but to talk about the significant and serious business of selling cables to Big W, I had an awakening that lit a fire underneath me that ignited an entire scorched earth outcome that was exacerbated by his betrayal with an ex-girlfriend in December of that same year.

Secretly communicating with her and catching up with her behind my back and then coming clean with an explanation that consisted of and I quote him exactly ‘ I was interstate, she was an ex-girlfriend and I had a hotel room.’ Nothing more, beyond blame toward me that my response would’ve caused a scene hence he said nothing else.

And then the final straw, the move to Port Moresby, one of the most dangerous cities in the world and upon visiting him there, I asked him the question I honestly didn’t see the answer I got coming. What did he see my life looking like over there?

Given I had spent four weeks confined to an apartment unable to go anywhere because of the significant safety concerns of a white woman travelling alone, even using a taxi was out of the question, and that would’ve been my future for the next three years, his response was little more than a shrug of the shoulders and the words ‘ I hadn’t actually given that any thought.’

I’ve had dozens of friends relocate their dogs internationally and give significantly more thought to what their pets lives would look like in those new environments that my husband had given to what my life would be like in one of the most dangerous cities in the world.

By this stage, I’d already grieved my marriage, I’d already made my decision, he was willing to take everything from me and was offering me nothing in return but the confines of four walls for the coming three years for 5 1/2 days a week while he was at work to be offset by the occasional dinner out that involved moving from one secure location to another and navigating the risks of the travel in between.

I on the other hand, having raised our three children to adulthood and seeing them on their way to building successful lives and careers had thought it was our time to come together and build a life that was ours, jointly, shared, enjoying each other’s company, travelling the world, living life on our terms.

But he clearly had other ideas, chasing the almighty dollar at all and any costs which we could’ve easily done without given he was not really making any significant difference in income (unless bonuses were paid, which ironically they apparently are not, karma anyone!!!) and we could still have lived an immensely comfortable life together, forever, as intended, despite his deceit, lies and betrayal.

And so ultimately after 25 years our paths diverged and headed in different directions.

I realised that standing in front of him asking to be seen, to be heard, to be noticed, to be acknowledged, and have some time spent with me was not something that I should needed to have to do.

I realised I was worthy of more. My value was significantly beyond this demeaning requirement for even the most basic and fundamental acts of attention and notice.

And after the weight and burden of all that happened over the previous 18 months and the toll it had taken upon me, particularly physically with my weight dropping down to 47 kg, and numerous surgeries and medical procedures I realised it was time for a complete reset.

And so here I am now sitting in the UK, in the centre of a major city, in a gorgeous apartment, making new friends, meeting my soul family, building my own future, waiting to see whatever next adventure awaits me and ready to take on whatever next exciting thing comes my way.

And then there is my book. Putting Me First- the Reckoning, The Reconciling and Rebirthing.

It will be published. I’ve had six contracts offered to me, four UK based and two US based.

It’s raw and brutal, honest and truthful both about me and others. It’s going to hurt some people because it does not hold back, but I’ve realised that honesty and accountability mean something and are far too undervalued in this world and it’s time for people to own their contributions and impacts in the same way I’ve taken full ownership of my own.

So here’s to fresh starts, new beginnings and taking on midlife with energy, enthusiasm and excitement.

Love Clare

Xoxo