Valentine’s Day is usually not a big day in my calendar.
I think Kennith and I were whoop-di-doo into it for the first few years. But then it just got naff, and turned into Woolworths dinners brought home. And then after time, even that sort of faded away. It’s also jammed in right after Xmas, and right after Kennith’s birthday.
I am not a bit Valentine’s Day person. I am not going to burden you with the usual moaning stance of “it is such a retail hyped day” and and and …..
The brilliance about being in a long term relationship is you can sort of be a bit snide and blasé about the whole V-day thing (valentines day, not vagina, one can never be blasé about vagina day). Because you are in a relationship, and you can sort of a be a bit “oh, we don’t have to worry about that sort of thing…” and watch Valentine’s Day kind of shift past you, and hardly raised a well defined eyebrow at the entire thing.
As divorce looms, and the idea of being a 42 year old single mother with three children appears to be my potentially new Facebook Status Relationship update, the fact that Valentine’s Day is coming around on Friday does make the bile in my gut sort of sneak out my sphincter muscles.
Valentine’s Day is just another day on the calendar, but this year it sort of marks the “first Valentine’s Day” in two decades where I have had to feel a bit “spare” on a holiday/retail hype day/Friday.
It does mark the beginning of a road of “days” where I am not quite sure how to deal with it, or how to prepare myself for it. Uncharted territory shall we say.
Today is Kennith’s birthday – again the first birthday in two decades where we have not celebrated his birthday together.
He did invite me to dinner with the kids and his family, but I can’t do a polite dinner when I feel there is a huge freaking elephant in the room, and I just cannot smile that long ….
There will be my birthday, the children’s birthday, Christmas and every other holiday and high-day that I have always known where I will be, and who I will be doing it with.
Right now I feel a bit sick at the thought of this new journey. Every one of these stupid days that will be the sign post of this new life, called Divorced, or Soon to be Divorced, or Nearly Divorced …. or Reluctantly Divorce … or “yes, it’s all a bit of a fuck up” … choose the term that you feel the most comfortable with.
I am still trying out various version of each, and haven’t quite found “my one” yet.
I really would like to hide under the covers, watch back-to-back seasons of Games of Thrones, and hide from the world. With a large bottle of wine, and an equally large bag of Chuckles. But I need to wear my Big Girl Panties, and actually just get on with it.
But it’s Valentine’s Day, so I just may go and work at the school’s fete and butter rolls for hotdogs. That is actually an option open to me at the moment.