Thursday, 11 September 2014

Gasping for air ( my response to yesterdays guest post)

It's amazing how your life can be literally turned on it's head with barely a moment's notice...(a bit like a traffic accident really....)

After I read the guest post yesterday, I was struck by a sense not only of deja vous (for surely if it wasn't for a few traffic incidents this blog wouldn't even be in existence) but also the stark reality that is this: for most people who are post-coupled, they're going to end up under more than one bus.

Back when my parents separated in the early 70s - about the time that divorce was fairly uncommon, the usual scenario was that people would separate and then within a couple or three years, repartner and then remain with that person for good.  My parents have each been remarried 35 years or more, and the majority of the friends in similar situations then are the same.  Certainly they were younger, closer to  30 than 40, and the principal of being ''not yet fully formed adults'' perhaps made it easier to grow together than it does when you're in your 40s or 50's (more on this here)

But certainly my experiences over the past 6 years seem to be that recoupling and staying recoupled is a rarer and rarer occurrence. And I can't figure out why.  Is it that all this self-awareness we have makes us choosier? That we feel a right or expectation of perfection and when it doesn't materialise after 6 months, or a year, or more, that we start looking elsewhere? Is it that people are simply more damaged now and haven't ''got their shit together'' enough to actual form healthy relationships? Are we too hasty, too slow, too picky, not picky enough, over committed, under committed?  Is it cos there's just so much darn choice out there now, with so many more singles, that its impossible to just be happy with what we have? We say we will not settle for anything less than perfect...that we have paid prices, done the work, learned lessons.

Is life just a whole lot more complex now?  Back then it was an expectation that there'd be not much money, a bunch of extra kids, and a whole heap of sacrifice.  My parents bedded in for the long haul from day one. There simply was no ''let's see''.  And I suspect very few even considered their ''personal needs'', they just got on with recoupling.  I'm not saying that's necessarily a good thing, but since nowadays we add in adventure, better assets, couple time, alone time, chemistry, shared interests, common friends, obliging blended families, our own feelings of rights and 'what we deserves' - expectations are a whole lot bigger.

And so the bus metaphor.  We end up being 'thrown under the bus''.  And mostly, we get up, and have a go at catching another bus.  

And there's another thing - once you have managed to get out from under a bus, and all the visible cuts and abrasions have healed, it can be months...years...and another bus will race past you and the fumes will remind you of times past.   And of course, the seemingly healed injuries might only show themselves when you decide to climb on board again - or worse when you find yourself under another one. And as long as you keep getting up again, there's a risk of an accident.  And if you don't understand, or worse, ignore the road rules, it's almost a given that you're going to get run over again.

 I'm pretty sure that the buses that have had the misfortune to collide with someone probably have a few dents as a result.  But they too, bravely trundle on, sometimes getting the damage repaired, and sometimes doing a bog job and hoping for the best.

Some days I'd like to write a letter of complaint. Because stand up again I do.  And each time I stand up and look around I am struck by this: I don't want to be run over again. (I don't think anyone does).  It feckin hurts!!! .

The older I become, the fewer buses seem to be travelling the route that I want to take.  And it seems the less chance there seems to be that one will want to stop and take me to it's final destination. I can only hope that I haven't missed the bus altogether.

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