Single Living

Jane's story

Some time ago, Jane's husband of 24 years walked out and left her to cope with bringing up their two children. Since then, she has kept in regular contact with Single Again/Single Living ...

Dear Mike,

Just had another woman write to me chatting with you - that's now my fifth correspondent from Single Again, and I'm delighted! I'm also in the process of meeting another woman from Brum which I'm really looking forward to.

It's been a year since my husband walked out on me and obviously it was a difficult anniversary. I sat at the computer and penned the following ...

A YEAR ON

But you don't.

I was married for twenty-four years, but he left me for another woman and I was devastated. He ruined my past, destroyed my present and took away my future: I had no future. I wanted to die, I really did. I wanted to go to sleep each night and never wake up - but I had two kids and I had to put them first. At the time they were 17 and 14. It's hard enough being 14 without your father walking out on you - and what would it have done to her if she'd been the one to come home to find her mother's body? I can't even think about it. Couldn't do it to them. Which made me all the more bitter that their father could put himself first before them. It didn't seem fair at all. I actually hate him for that. Some people would think that it wouldn't be difficult for them - after all, they weren't little: but little kids grow up used to their father not being there.

Remember my kids had grown up used to two parents being around. It was awful for them. And they witnessed their mother's suffering first hand in the most painful way. For a time, my eldest daughter was my main emotional support. Think about it! Mutual married (and adult) friends couldn't cope with the situation and abandoned me. No kid should have to endure what mine did, especially my eldest. But she didn't give up and she came up trumps. She has my deepest respect for the way she endured it. I am incredibly proud of them both.

In dark despair I emailed Single Again. I can't remember how I found it - the Internet, I think. I had had a week of meeting brick walls. Even that early I knew that life wouldn't come and meet me and that I had to sort things out for myself. I was determined not to be a victim, but everywhere I turned I was hounded by answer phones, unanswered calls, unattainable numbers, lovely people informing there was no such support group for people in my situation - but there should be one… Mike answered so quickly I couldn't believe it. I remember emailing him back saying his had been a voice in the wilderness and joined immediately.

The next stage was anger. English is the richest language in the world and I am an articulate woman but I cannot find words to describe the rage I felt and it consumed me uncontrollably. I wanted to kill my husband and his new partner. I wanted to hurt them horribly. Why should they be so happy together when my life was so miserably ruined? The only reason I didn't was that my dignity refused to allow me to do so. I refused to lower my standards and commit some offence I would be ashamed of later. She also had children who had suffered themselves when she dragged them crying from their father. No way could I do something that hurt kids.

I took three weeks off work to try and sort myself out, deciding I would return to work with my head held high and confound the colleagues who were enjoying the gossip - you see, my husband and I and his 'new partner' work together and I know that at least one colleague was enjoying our plight, driving past my house and my husband's partner's house, spying on us. That gutted me: to think someone could actually enjoy my misery was dreadful. I think I resent her more than anyone.

The rest of the story is long - and to shorten the version - I can only say that the ensuing months were a mixture of nightmares, devastating lows and a few mediocre highs. I went through a period of what I can only describe as adolescence - just like I went through at around thirteen - when everything's in front of you and you dream of romantic heroes and people you know you can never have, because the real thing isn't there - but it doesn't stop you longing for them. I was free, available and ready for Mr Right to come and sweep me off my feet.

I also had to do things I had never had to do before. For example, I closed the joint accounts I held with my husband and opened one of my own. I drew up a list of bills he was responsible for and ones I was, to which he agreed because he came up with no alternative. He was responsible for the mortgage, but did not inform our bank. When the payment went out of my account, putting me several hundred pounds in the red, I went to my bank, asked them to find out what had gone wrong and arranged a temporary overdraft. I'd never done that before!!!! I could have flown! But then followed a stream of mistakes, threats because standing orders hadn't been automatically transferred - and - oh! The list was endless - but I did it in the end.

There's a lesson here - when you're in trouble, admit it. Everyone I contacted was immensely helpful and sympathetic. All they want is to know you're willing to pay them and they'll fall over backwards to accommodate you and your problem if you're honest. I had fallen £300 in arrears with my electric supplier - God only knows how - but they waived it temporarily, halved my monthly payments and arranged for help till things were sorted.

A while ago I was having a conversation with a pessimist. I was having a very low day and admitted so, but saying I held onto the belief that things had to get better. 'Oh,' she replied, 'in my experience when things are bad they just stay bad.' Well, I refuse to believe so. Positively refuse. Last year was awful: the worst of my entire life and I have to confess this one frightens me horribly. I can't begin to pretend that a year on everything's sorted, because it simply isn't: Will I sell my house at a price high enough to afford a mortgage on my own? Will I find a house I can live in? Where will I be this time next year? Will I have to cope alone forever? Yes, I'm apprehensive, but I positively refuse to believe things won't get much better. They already have in some ways - partly because of the new friends I've made and also because I've developed into a more confident and self reliant person than I ever dreamed I could be.

To anybody out there who's a year behind me in all this - it IS just a matter of time, as there is no magic solution or cure. And I've only one message of advice: don't lose your sense of humour or hope - believe me, you'll need them both.

Recently, Jane was in touch again ...

Dear Mike,

I haven't written in ages, but I can assure you it's for good reasons, not bad!

I am very much in a relationship which I feel is permanent and really no longer feel at all single. My fiftieth birthday is on the horizon and one thing I have become very good at is turning dreaded occasions into something to be looked forward to. I have booked myself and Neil (the new man in my life) to go hot air ballooning and so I can't wait to turn 50! Well, I can't wait to go ballooning, anyway.

Nevertheless, I have had two new correspondents write to me recently and I've been honest with them about Neil, but they've still chosen to keep in touch I've really enjoyed 'talking' to both of them and since it's just only over two years since my ex left, I still know and remember only too well the trauma involved and we've been of mutual benefit to one another.

I'm also still in touch with three people from ages ago: ‘A’ from Shropshire, who I went to meet at a Folk Night and he came to my housewarming party and who I'm going to hear sing soon at another Folk Night: ‘L’ from Birmingham who also came to my party, but we'd also met previously and have plans to meet again soon; and ‘R’ - an elderly lady from Malvern who doesn't have a computer but who writes me delightful letters every now and then.