Well, now the cat's out of the bag. Sorry if it seems as though I'm making light of it, but if you didn't laugh you'd cry. And I know which option I prefer.
Anyway, I am not exactly telling the world. I mean, this blog is a bit...would 'niche' be the right word? And who actually cares? I mean, if anyone has read my memoir they might be disappointed to hear that a relationship that began as a 'love at first sight' story, that endured through a psychotic breakdown, that became a twenty year marriage and which produced four incredible kids, has come to an end.
But most people recognise that marriage is a tough gig and that not many people have got what it takes to make the grade, to grow together, to stay happy and fulfilled as a couple.
There was enough suffering in my life when I was young; now I am the architect of my own existence and I need to choose happiness. In fact, I have developed a theory about marriage. My idea is this; people should just get married for five years or ten, then opt-out for a month or two, and get some training or something before they sign up to another stint. Wishful thinking...
Anyway, it's done. Paul has moved on and found himself a new girlfriend (much younger than he is; very pretty). They found each other quickly, it seems that they are both extremely happy with the new arrangement and I genuinely wish them both luck. I mean, I'm not an angel or anything and sometimes I feel angry or hurt or whatever, about various things. But the truth is, I woke up the morning after he left and I knew it was the right thing for both of us, and I haven't wavered in that conviction ever since. It's been almost a year now. You see; I did pay due consideration as to whether divulging this information was the right thing to do.
In other news, I am due to start a job in the Civil Service very soon. It took a while, but I got there at last. Respectability! A pension! Paid holiday! I just can't wait to get started. It's part-time hours so I'll still be able to do most of my care work and I'll still write. I am attached to my clients and I couldn't live if I didn't write. I mean, physically I'd survive but I would not be a pretty thing to behold.
I think it was Time to Talk Day recently. Not an issue for me. In fact, I could do with a Time to Talk Less Day. I never seem to stop jabbering about one thing or another. I don't only talk about mental health of course, but I am not scared at all to drop it into the conversation now and again. Because the greatest thing about writing my memoir is knowing that many people have been helped by reading it. It is the best feeling you can imagine.
I won't stop participating in the mental health conversation though, not until psychiatrists stop diagnosing people with 'schizophrenia'. That day will come, I am sure. When enough people have the courage to speak out about the way they have been treated, when enough is understood about the cruelty inherent in our mental health system, change will be implemented at last. Roll on that day.