I have quite a lot of vodka, sitting in the boot of my car in a box.
I don’t have any marinated herring. But that could change.
the reason the vodka is sitting in a box in my car is not because I’m planning a massive vodka party, neither am I donating it, or planning to sit in a field with the car boot up, drowning my sorrows.
Actually, it’s there because I’m moving house. And I’m not moving, as was planned, with the Other Half. Because he is no longer categorised that way. He is just L, and I am me, and together we are the parents of three children that tie us together but don’t mean that we will now live together.
As of now it’s just me and my box of bottles (and yeah ok, a lot of other stuff that I own which currently isn’t hanging out in my car) setting out on a new chapter of life.
It feels odd. Sometimes its a little bit exciting, the possibilities and the opportunities and the time that I’ll now have alone, on the evenings and weekends when L is in charge of the kids. Sometimes at night, I sit and stare at the ceiling and panic, wondering what have I done, will I be able to cope, what if my expectations are unreasonable? But essentially, I know I have done the right thing, and yes of course I’ll cope, and no, it’s not unreasonable to expect that at some point in my life, someone might actually want to be with me for who I am, not who they want me to be.