F*CK

That precise moment when your husband/wife/partner/lover tells you that they're leaving you.  The first word that comes into your head, and (potentially) out of your mouth.

F*CK

I never saw it coming.  It hit me like a train.  A fucking big train.  

I vividly remember trying to process His words "I've lost my connection to you.  There is no spark..." and apparently "there is nobody else" but we'll come back to that shortly...

In those next few moments, I can remember my entire world flashing before my eyes: the end of our marriage.  What happens to our child? Our home? Cars? The fucking dog?  ("Our/ours" will soon be replaced with "me/my").  What if I get sodding Covid? What will people think? (Tip: it doesn't fucking matter).  Like me, you'll most likely feel that you have failed.  You haven't.  

In the hazy few hours that followed, it was pure disbelief.  A chasm had opened between us and everything had changed.  He was a stranger.  I remember there was very little bargaining from me, the token "should we see a counsellor?" but I think I knew, deep down, even at that point, She existed.  I just couldn't face it immediately.

I remember barely functioning in the following days, I held it together on the school run and made it in to work.  Those closest to me knew, and it took just one friend to give me the strength to face up to what had happened.  He'd had an affair.

I'd never been the type of woman to really question Him or His whereabouts, to check His phone, His emails, social media accounts, but that weekend I did.  And it was all there.  They'd been at it for months.  And I had absolutely no idea.    

Reading through His messages, I was in absolute disbelief, He was like a different person.  So self-indulgent, fixated, infatuated.  Admitting He "felt no guilt" and the best line I read..."I'm on a razorblade between pleasure and pain". Nob. 

She even messaged whilst I had His phone in my hands.  I facetimed Her, she hung up immediately but those 5 seconds of shock on her smooth (botox?) face were delicious!  Plus she wasn't the 6 foot glossy blonde Glamazon I'd initially feared.  Quite the opposite actually. With really bad eyebrows.  

The day I found out, I packed all of His belongings and cleared Him out of my home.  It was the best thing I could have done, for me and for my child.

The next four weeks were the worst.  The emotional flooding, those intrusive thoughts.  During trauma, your mind plays scenes that you cannot stop.  Every time my head hit the pillow, it played the most intimate of moments of them together.  For those four weeks, I barely functioned, I hardly slept, I couldn't eat.  My mind and body were in total shock.

If you've recently found yourself in a similar situation, my advice is to keep your dignity.  It's tough, believe me.  If you have children, protect them.  Try not to expose them to the drama, the arguments.  It's ok if they see you cry, that's a normal, healthy emotion and they might need to do the same.  Articulation is key:  "I feel sad that Daddy isn't here anymore" rather than "Your father's a lying bastard".

Why am I sharing this?  Because this is how I became a single mom.  Becoming a single mom is probably the most terrifying, overwhelming experience I've ever had.  Largely, none of us plan for this.  Despite the people you have around you, the immense feelings of isolation come in waves, it's practically suffocating.  It takes your breath away.   

But it happens. And we have to adapt.

And it gets better.  I promise.  

You may be here by personal choice.  You may have left a toxic relationship.   You may be a widower.  Like me, you may be the receiver.  But one thing I have experienced is solidarity.  We are absolutely in this together.

Find your people.  

I've been blessed by the amount of love and support I've received for me and my little one.  Family, friends who have reached out, amazing neighbours who batched cooked meals for me (the best cottage pie ever!), school mom's, colleagues, people are out there and they want to help you.  We were showered with meals, books, toys, chocolate, flowers...every visit, every card, every gift makes you that bit stronger.

But you also need to distance from those who give you no value.  You'll soon learn who the passengers are, enjoying the ride for the drama (kick them off the bus), the friends/family with the opinions (put them in the bin).  There will be a lot of opinions out there, switch off.  It doesn't matter.  You need to heal.

I'm not sure how long I'll keep this blog alive, but for now, for me, it's therapy.  It's reaching out to other single parents, letting you know it genuinely does get better.  A lot better.  And my god is there some fun to be had.  But you have to find your own peace and your own pace. 

I'm not sure what you'll take from my words.  Maybe nothing.  Maybe some reassurance.  Maybe some comfort in knowing that you are absolutely not on your own.  You might find some smiles in future posts - trust me, they are there.

I'm not a qualified professional, I'm just a regular mom, but I will signpost to various organisations that can offer support, especially during moments of crisis:

https://www.womensaid.org.uk/

https://www.gingerbread.org.uk/

https://www.refuge.org.uk/get-help-now/

https://www.samaritans.org/

https://www.mind.org.uk/information-support/