divorce story - Page 2

Jason had a high paying job working for a couple in the Hollywood film industry.

Their parties were legendary and perks were numerous.

After several years, Jason started dating one of their daughters. Annabel was a party girl who danced into the wee hours and seemed to thrive on the club culture.

Jason enjoyed socializing, but not as an everyday occurrence. He accompanied Annabel to many of these soirees, but could not keep up with her.

Jason and Annabel did not have deep, meaningful conversations, but rather on more superficial topics such as the latest celebrity antics.

She was lively and did not have to work. Even though they had a tempestuous relationship, Jason was sure that Annabel would settle down after they married. They wed after eighteen months of dating.

Annabel kept up her partying ways and had zero interest in domestic duties. If her husband joined her in the clubs then fine, and if not that was fine too. Jason began to realise that people do not change and what you see is what you get.

Annabel told Jason that she was going to the Florida Keyes with her sister and would see him in a week or so. Jason thought this seemed strange, but it was out of his control. When Annabel returned, she seemed distant and made phone calls in private. She was secretive about her trip and had many conversations with her sister.

Annabel and Jason took a short weekend holiday to San Diego and he left his phone on record in their room. After Jason left, Annabel called her new lover that she met when with her sister. Jason confronted Annabel with the evidence, but she refused to admit any wrong doing.

She denied that her actions were out of line for a married woman, so they got a divorce – a hollywood divorce.

Jason was fired by Annabel’s parents and is living off the last of his savings now. Seems like he is being blackballed by his former employers in the film world. He has a cousin who is a musician in Hollywood, and is contemplating asking him for some job assistance.

Jason stresses that if someone is a party girl when dating, it is unrealistic to expect her to become a domestic goddess when the wedding ring is slipped upon her finger.

A shallow person can be fun to dance with, but is not marriage material.

He also cautions about not mixing a love life with your job, especially if dating the boss’s daughter. Next time around, he is going to have a pre-marital session to ensure compatibility.

CLICK HERE FOR MORE ARTICLES BY WENDI SCHULLER

ABOUT WENDI

Wendi Schuller is a nurse, hypnotherapist and is certified in Neuro-linguistic Programing (NLP).

Her most recent book is The Global Guide to Divorce and she has over 200 published articles.

She is a guest on radio programs in the US and UK. Her website is globalguidetodivorce.com.

Marriages fail, but what happens when one partner is adamant that a marriage should go on?

How do you deal with an ex-partner who is unable to accept that the relationship is over?

 ”It’s that easy’’ he said in a threatening voice. ‘’To be here; Waiting for you.’’

‘’Mum’’ I shouted ’’call the police.’’

I had returned home from work that afternoon, picking my mum up along the way for safety, fearing that my estranged husband was going to cause of trouble. But I had never imagined that he would do this.

 Simon had bombarded me with threatening, angry calls and texts for most of the day and eventually I had switched my phone off and asked colleagues to tell him I was unavailable when he called my desk phone. I knew that this would make him angrier but I didn’t know what else to do.

Consequently I had been expecting him to be waiting for me somewhere, maybe near the river where I walked the dogs or outside the children’s nursery.

But inside the house; that had taken me completely by surprise and it scared me. I knew that I could no longer handle his behaviour alone. I needed to involve the police. I had tried speaking with his family but judging by his actions, they too were powerless to help him.

Mum and I had entered my home, still jointly owned by Simon and I, in total oblivion to the fact that he was there. His car hadn’t been outside; the door had still been locked and despite the dimming daylight there had been no lights on. Although Simon and I still owned the house together, the children and I were living there alone after he had eventually agreed to move out a few months previous.

I still don’t know why, but as I walked down the hallway I had an overwhelming urge to check inside the lounge.  Nothing looked outwardly different but I felt uneasy.

 Everything was fine; I was just being silly. But then, as my eyes finished running the full length of the sofa, I saw him; my husband, sat very calmly, directly behind the now fully opened door.

And that’s when he said those words that chilled me. The words that brought me to my senses and made me realise that I had to make this stop.

Ever since we had separated 5 months previous, Simon had struggled to accept it.

At first, he had just been a nuisance; phoning and texting continuously, regardless of the time of the day or night. I had tried to remain patient, hopeful that he would eventually wear himself out and accept that the relationship was over.

I knew that Simon did not want the marriage to end but I had stopped loving him and I couldn’t continue pretending any longer. For me, our separation was a relief, the start of a new beginning. For Simon it was a shock and the end of everything.

Very soon his behaviours escalated.

One morning I rushed out of the children’s nursery, jumped in my car and before I could start the engine Simon had got into the passenger seat. 

 ‘’I really can’t talk now, I need to get to work” I said pleadingly.

Nothing I said could persuade Simon to return to his own car. Until, eventually, twenty minutes later, he got out.

Looking back I should have sounded the horn. The nursery car park was remote but staff inside would have heard me. But if I’m honest I didn’t really want to attract attention. As much as I wanted Simon out of my car I didn’t want everyone else knowing what was going on and I dreaded a scene.

Incidents like that continued. I started to constantly check behind me and I dreaded the sound of my phone. I tried doing things his way and I tried not. I tried being nice and I tried being blunt. Nothing seemed to work. If I did what he wanted, he expected more; if I didn’t do what he wanted he would make threats and pester until he got his own way.

I just wanted him to stop; to accept that the marriage was over and I blamed myself for not making him understand. His behaviour embarrassed me. 

When you are stalked by someone that you know intimately, you feel responsible. You feel that you are to blame and you forget that they are accountable for themselves

 ‘’Just tell him to stop calling’’ friends would advise. ‘’Don’t give in to him’’

It wasn’t that easy though. Simon would use the children as bait. On evenings when he was picking them up from nursery he would turn up at my home.

‘’Lucy needs the toilet’’ he would shout through the letterbox ‘’She’s bursting.’’

At first I would let them in, unable to bear the thought of my children’s discomfort but of course once inside, Simon would refuse to leave. I would be stuck, trying to pretend that everything was okay for the children whilst desperately trying to persuade Simon to leave.

And after he had eventually left, the phone would start to ring. If I ignored the calls, he would return, banging at the door and shouting through the letterbox; a torrent of excuses. I would lock the doors from the inside to stop him gaining access but in reality, the property also belonged to him and I had little ground to stand on.

Looking back now I am absolutely amazed that I never consider myself a victim of stalking. I just alleged it to be a ‘difficult’ separation.

I wasn’t sure where love ended and stalking began; or how much time was fair of me to give him, or how many excuses I should offer for his actions?

Until that day.

And then something snapped and I knew that this was never going to stop unless I made it.

Simon wasn’t acting out of love. This was all about him. He felt entitled to my affection and entitled to be part of my life, regardless as to whether I wanted him to be or not.

The criminal justice system has worked hard over the last few years to help victims of harassment and stalking. New legislation has been introduced and Police Officers have been re-trained.

In 2008 things weren’t as straightforward. The first officers that attended the house said there wasn’t anything they could do; Simon was allowed inside his own property.

However, the following day when Simon again started to constantly phone me at work I re-contacted the police and this time they took action.

Furthermore, whilst they were conducting their investigation, things escalated.

Simon’s family had persuaded him to see a mental health professional. The doctor had become so concerned by Simon’s standpoint that he decided to break confidentiality in the interest of safety, and he too contacted the police.

Simon was arrested the following day and my situation was placed in the hands of the criminal system. I was protected by bail conditions, a home link alarm and, following a court case, a restraining order.

By the time the restraining order had expired the joint property had been sold and the children’s contact with Simon had been made subject to a court order.

I have been lucky. 

The criminal justice system worked for me. Home Office statistics deem that 2 people are killed every week by a partner or ex-partner. My abuse was stopped before I was ever physically hurt or worse.

Names have been changed to protect the identities of the people involved.

Alli-Jayne is a divorced mother of 2, freelance writer and blogger who loves juggling raising children, keeping a home and most importantly, having fun.

She researches and writes news stories for local newspapers and is a regular contributor to the lifestyle sections of the national newspapers and magazines, both in print and online. 

“But he’s such a nice bloke!” everyone protested.

And they were right.

Colin, father of my son, Jamie, was a lovely man, a wonderful friend and a great dad.  He still is.

Yet much as I appreciated Colin, I was increasingly unhappy in our relationship.  We just didn’t meet on all levels and a vital part of me remained unexpressed and unfulfilled.

But how could I justify wanting to break up with this ‘good man’?  Surely it wasn’t worth wrecking a family over?

Life changing miracle

Six years before, Jamie’s conception was a total (and somewhat miraculous!) surprise to us.

Colin and I’d had an easygoing relationship for a few years, but by the time the pregnancy test announced its astonishing news, we were edging towards going our separate ways.

Despite the shock, and the complete life change that it implied, we each found ourselves inexplicably delighted about the new life insisting its way into our world.

We were both ordained Buddhists, with overlapping but independent lives as part of a modern Buddhist community in London.  As such, we lived and worked in neighbouring single-sex community houses and co-op businesses.

With the prospect of our impending arrival, however, everything changed.  Colin dropped plans to move to Amsterdam and I let go of an idea to relocate to Edinburgh.  It was an easy mutual decision to stay in London and find a place to live together and bring up our child.

And so we became a family unit.  The first couple of years were occupied by establishing a home, changing working arrangements, and adapting to the whole magical adventure of being parents.  We were thrilled and stretched by our new lifestyle and adored our wonderful baby boy.

Good enough?

Colin and I got on well, though we were rather like two single parents sharing one home.  One of us was always working or leading Buddhist activities whilst the other took care of Jamie.

Certainly, we loved each other and were good friends – considerate, cooperative and communicative – but we were not IN love.  What little passion we shared before Jamie was born had now dwindled to nothing.

This niggled me more than Colin, a deeply contented soul who didn’t really mind, but it was becoming more and more painful to me.  I was only in my early 30s and it felt like part of me was already dying.   We did talk about it and had a go at having ‘date nights’ together,  but the spark just wasn’t there.

When Jamie was a toddler, I tried to fill myself by taking on a challenging new Buddhist business project.  It was consuming, successful and great fun, but it didn’t hit the increasingly big and unsatisfied ‘love spot’.

Once upon a time…

Aged 33, I was asking myself “Is this it?  Will I never share my life with a true love who lights up my heart, mind, body and soul?”

What had happened to the wild, free, passionate young woman that I used to be?   At university, I was firing on all cylinders.  I loved my psychology studies, had stimulating friends and sucked up every scrap of life experience.  I practised yoga and karate, worked out in the gym and went scuba diving at weekends.

Vividly in love, my boyfriend and I rode around on motorbikes or got out of our heads and wowed ourselves listening to music.  Most of all we relished our time alone, discovering and exploring the delights of intimacy for the first time in our young lives.

Dumbing it down

But from the age of 20, things changed.   In the aftermath of my father’s recent death, I found myself compelled to break up with my boyfriend and move away from my family home.  After a couple of months of rampant drinking and socialising, I became disillusioned, discovered meditation and dived into a very different life.

After graduation, I moved to London to train for Buddhist ordination.  This concentrated my attention on so-called ‘higher spiritual things’ and without realising it, I gradually became cut off from my earthiness, passion and physical vitality.

And although I was never convinced by the teaching, I let myself be subdued by the Buddhist Order’s dismissive view of romantic love.  We were encouraged to relegate coupling and having families to our priorities, so a low-key relationship with a pleasant bloke like Colin was all I allowed myself to want.

Re-awakening

Then, just as I turned 34, something happened.

A friend introduced me to the liberating dance meditation practice, 5 Rhythms.  The first time I found myself moving at a class, huge waves of ecstatic joy and release flooded through my body.  I was waking up a part of myself that had been asleep for years.

It wasn’t long before I had thrown myself into regular 5 Rhythms practice, and boy oh boy, look out now!

Within 6 months, I’d shed the two stones of excess weight I’d been carrying since I’d become a mum.  As this comforting, but numbing layer of protection melted away, the real ‘me’ re-emerged and I became alive to my whole self again.

I could no longer deny my desire to have a ‘proper’ relationship again.  Before long, I said to Colin that I thought it was only a matter of time before I met someone else.  And I did.

Stepping out

Sebastian was a smouldering Spanish guy from the 5 Rhythms class.  We found ourselves drawn together in dance and then afterwards in the bar.  A week or two later, we arranged to meet at a dance party and connected with a kiss.

And so began the most furiously (and I use that word decidedly) intense relationship I’ve ever experienced.  A torrent of passion erupted through me – a decade’s worth of repressed energy expressing itself all in one go.

Both men knew about each other and I kept everything sensitively honest.  Sebastian was understanding, and Colin and I agreed that we’d continue living as a family while I explored having a boyfriend ‘on the side’.

It wasn’t long before that just didn’t feel right anymore.  As synchronicity would have it, we were moved into a three-bed house while some repair work was done on our home, so at least Colin and I now had our own bedrooms.  But when it was time to return, I just couldn’t fit myself back into that old mould.

Prompted by me, we decided to separate, made much easier by the availability of a small flat just four doors away.

Colin moved into the flat and Jamie and I back to the bigger maisonette.  Jamie could stay with Colin a couple of nights a week, and otherwise, run freely between homes via our back gardens.  Apart from living under two roofs, it seemed nothing would be much different as we continued to co-parent between us.

Emotional fall-out

Although the practical arrangements were uncommonly smooth and Colin and I continued to be extremely calm with each other, the actual separation was a lot harder than anticipated.

Firstly, and mostly, it was agonising breaking up Jamie’s secure family unit.  It just felt wrong at an instinctual, maternal level.  The anguish I felt one bedtime as Jamie sobbed “I want my daddy” was almost too much to bear.  Grief and anguish seared through me.  Was this too much of a price to pay?

Most of my friends and family were shocked and upset at the news of our split.  They posed the question that I’d been asking myself for years – couldn’t I just sacrifice my personal happiness for the sake of keeping our family together? After all, Colin and I weren’t actually falling out.  Their understandable concern hit a nerve of doubt, but it did make me realise I was long past that reasoning now, even if I wasn’t 100% sure.

Within a month of separation, the emotional impact started to catch up with me.  First of all, I hurt my back which laid me up for a few weeks.  This meant I had to drop out of another new business I’d just taken on.  And so I found myself to be a broke, unemployed, single parent in emotional turmoil.

Cleaning up the mess

After all the moves and changes I felt exhausted, disorientated and insecure.  I missed Colin’s companionship and my relationship with Sebastian took a different turn now that I was properly available.  It became apparent that this highly charged relationship was severely limited.

Sebastian was nowhere near capable of partnering with me in the ways that Colin had.   The ensuing fights were just as furious as our love, and my hysterical ferocity shocked me.  I really had taken the lid off of my raw emotions in recent months and there was much to be understood and integrated.

Fortunately, I had some tools at my disposal – meditation, 5 rhythms and psychosynthesis counselling.  I also had my amazing friends and family standing by, including Colin who proved once again what a decent guy he is.

Knowing ‘the only way out is through’, I dived deeply into my inner world and embarked upon a healing journey.  The grief was immense – perhaps catching up with a lifetime of loss and separation – and many a day I sat before my meditation altar bawling my eyes out.

In one meditation, I ‘saw’ the grief and loss being experienced by millions of ordinary people throughout the world every day just like me.  The immensity of this threatened to tear me apart, but I couldn’t hold it at bay.  My heart and soul shattered and were replaced by the most exquisite, compassionate solidarity with every single living being in the universe.  It was one of those moments that changed me forever.

Finding myself again

Somehow, that moment helped me turn a corner, and oh so slowly, I began to reconstruct.

I let go of trying to make a partner out of Sebastian and after a failed job interview, of getting my working life back together just yet.  If I was honest, I was still exhausted and didn’t know who I was or what I wanted to do next.  Crucially, I gave myself permission to stop, and not know, and just BE for a while.

There was only one thing I felt capable of doing apart from looking after Jamie, and that was volunteering to teach a lunchtime meditation class at the Buddhist Centre one day a week.  That simple oasis of gentle giving proved to be my salvation.  Whilst dwelling there, I rebuilt my self-esteem and innocently sowed the seeds of the beautiful, fruitful life that was to follow.

A vision takes shape

It took me about a year to figure out what next.  I didn’t push it, just stayed with what felt okay, even if I didn’t understand why.  As well as the meditation class, I eventually did some consultancy work with a colleague’s community development agency a day or two a week.  I carried on dancing and hung closer to my Buddhist commitments. That was plenty.

During that time, the inspiration to move to Devon started to murmur within me.  I’d recently visited Totnes to attend 5 Rhythms workshops, then one of my closest friends had moved there.  I was captivated by this ‘alternative capital of the UK’ and all the fascinating things that were going on.  And the countryside was simply stunning.  What a great place for Jamie to grow up.

Colin and I once discovered that there was one place in the whole of the UK where we’d both be happy to live – the west country.

This was a vital part of the equation now, as there was no way I wanted to put distance between Jamie and his beloved, hands-on, doting dad.  And so when Colin indicated that he was willing to move to Devon too, it was game on.

New life

And so we moved to Devon, Colin and I living near each other and continuing to co-parent Jamie between us.  The story of this time is told in another chapter, suffice to say here, that the first year was demanding, emotional and unsettling, especially for Jamie, but it was also an exhilarating adventure, and obviously the right move.

A whole new life has been created here with amazing new friends and local family (my sister and Colin’s mum and dad all moved here too),  the fulfilment of my vocation with the founding of Thrivecraft, and most of all, meeting a life partner beyond my wildest dreams – one fabulous Cornishman, Mr Patrick James Edgecombe.

As I’m writing this, Pat, now my husband of 10 years –  timeless soul mate, compelling true love and more than ideal match – is washing the supper dishes in our kitchen.  Jamie, aged 19, is upstairs in his room chilling out after college before his driving lesson tomorrow.

I’ve just been texting Colin who lives nearby with his elderly mum (now widowed), checking that it’s okay to share our story in this article.  Colin hasn’t had another partner since we split, remaining content with work, friends, and interests.  As well as looking after his mum, he continues to be a fantastic dad to Jamie and a good friend to me.  We’ll all be together on Christmas day as usual – Pat, Jamie and I, Colin and his mum, Pat’s mum and sister.

The Truth Will Free You

So, in answer to myself and all my concerned friends and family who once wondered if splitting up with Colin was worth ‘wrecking a family’ for – it has proved to be a great big “YES!”  The family has not been wrecked, it’s just that part of it has been dismantled so that a bigger, better family could be reconstructed on stronger, truer foundations.

It took me a few years of periodic, low-level guilt to be absolutely convinced of that.  But it was finally dispersed a year or so after moving to Devon when Colin and I had a big heart-to-heart.  Enough time had gone by for us to be able to really see that our split had been the right thing, not just for us but for Jamie too.

Okay, we didn’t manage to stay together in one household, but we have taught Jamie the greater value of honesty, courage and truth in relationships.  Each of us has become more ourselves – more expressive, more creative, more fulfilled – and Jamie now has the benefit of both his dad, his step dad and all his extended family.  Plus, crucially, a mum that is alive to herself on all levels.

It is said that we teach more to our kids by example than by any other means.  If my choices and actions have helped instil in Jamie the permission to be fully himself, follow his heart and not compromise on what he wants from life, then I consider my job as a parent well done.  The stakes are sometimes high, but the truth will set you free.  We can always rely on that.

About Maggie Kay

Maggie Kay, the Inner Wisdom Coach and founder of Thrivecraft, helps you awaken your own inner wisdom so that you can answer questions, solve problems and make the best decisions in your life, relationships and business.