Taking Back Control

05/10/24

Although this might, at first glance, appear to be a post about lawn care, I promise it’s not.

Yesterday, while semi-vacantly staring out of the window, my lawn provided a metaphor that led to a monumental step in this healing journey of mine. Bear with me for a moment on the gardening details; I promise we’ll get to the point.

Despite the lateness of the season, the lawn is looking really good. At the beginning of the year it was in a terrible state; non-existent borders, weeds and moss running rampant, random mini pits, lumps and bumps… just bad.

It was like this because the person who had said they’d look after it actually resented the responsibility.

It was utterly neglected, only periodically attended to when it threatened to get completely out of hand. Even then it would be done in a bad mood, and as minimally as possible.

• When EH left, and it became entirely my responsibility, I decided it was time it got some proper attention.
• Rolling up my sleeves, I firstly conquered fear, then taught myself how to do the very basic maintenance – cutting it.
• I redefined the borders, creating clear boundaries between lawn and plant beds.
• Then I dug out weeds and raked out moss, leaving big, ugly, naked patches.
• I fed the remaining grass, nurturing it, cutting it regularly, and encouraging it to fill those gaps up.
• There was a marked improvement in the health of the existing grass, but after a while, it was clear it needed a bit more help.
• I carefully put seed down, making sure I scattered enough ‘spares’ for it not to be a problem when the birds inevitably stopped by for lunch.
• Eventually some of those raw patches of earth rewarded me with tiny, new shoots of fresh green grass. After some months, these have bedded in beautifully, and are starting to blend in with the existing grass.
• Some patches have proven more stubborn, requiring multiple scarifications and seedings. They’re getting there but aren’t quite as vigorous and lush as the rest of the lawn. Yet.

That’s when it hit me: my lawn is an exact metaphor for my personal journey up to this point:

• I took responsibility for my neglected self.
• I conquered fear.
• I pushed myself to do basic self maintenance.
• I began to set boundaries
• I’ve pulled out inner weeds, and raked away the moss in my heart and soul, leaving raw, bare patches.
• I fed what was left, with therapy podcasts, internet research, psilocybin therapy, mindfulness, support groups, books, comedy, music, food, supplements, exercise.
• Slowly, slowly, I’ve been nurturing new growth in those bare patches, planting new seeds, seeing the scars start to heal over.
• I’m looking pretty lush compared to the ragged and haggard self I was presenting at the start of the year. I’m feeling comparatively lush too; sometimes I have several days in a row of just feeling awesome – like I’m winning life.
• Some patches have proven more stubborn, requiring multiple scarifications and seedings. They’re getting there but aren’t quite as vigorous and lush as the rest of the lawn. Yet. There are still some patches that need the extra nurturing, but I’m confident they’ll be invisible soon, indistinguishable from the whole.

This visual prompt from my lawn, about how far we’ve both come since January, lead me to thinking about what next.

What the lawn will do next, is try to roam. It will want to investigate the plant beds, tiptoe into the pond, get into nooks and crannies it’s never been before. The only thing that can stop it is me.

That’s what I want to do too. I want to roam and explore, get my feet wet in foreign waters, go to secret little places I’ve never been before. I want to be free. The only thing that can stop it is me.

As I’m very much not planning to get in my own way, I’ve been working on the being free aspect, starting with breaking all ties with EH.

Removing all traces of him from the house is going great guns, but there’s been no movement on getting the marriage legally, finally, ended.

I’ve been mentally tussling with it since May.

On the one hand, I’ve wanted to be the one to do it. I’ve wanted to take back some control over the situation, rather than continuing to wait around for him to make decisions.

On the other hand, I’ve very much resented having to pay hundreds of pounds to legally disconnect myself from him.

Somewhat pettily, I feel that as I paid for the wedding, he can pay for the damned divorce.

Plus, my money feels better directed towards my fledgling future plans, not helping him move towards his.

Yesterday morning I found my solution.

I messaged asking if he’d got the divorce paperwork underway yet. Of course, I knew full well he hadn’t, as I would have been contacted by the courts.

Predictably he asked why.

As I’d known this question would come, I’d given it some consideration before sending the initial message.

I knew he’d immediately assume that I’ve started a new relationship. I did consider letting him think that.

Ultimately though, I decided that I was just going to speak my truth; not spitefully, maliciously, or to cause a reaction – just the truth of why I was asking him.

So, I honestly said, “The relationship has been over for around the last 18 years – I think it’s time it was put to rest. Send me the papers soon as, and I’ll sign them.“

The changed tone of his response to that suggested he didn’t like it. I found that curious.

As demonstrated by his behaviour towards me during the marriage, he had no love for me for a long time. As he was leaving he made sure to let me know that he was pissed off at himself for not leaving years earlier (in hindsight, I’m pissed off about that too!). He has a new partner, and the two of them are going to sail off into the sunset together in a canal boat.

The only reason I can fathom for him not being pleased at my ‘let’s do this divorce’ signal is that he doesn’t like having the control taken away from him.

If I had a doubt about pushing the divorce, which I don’t, his anger at me for being truthful, and for acting outside of his expectations, just confirms the rightness of my decision.

Anyway, my message pushed him into action, and by the end of the day he’d filed the papers and paid the fees.

I’d call that a good result.

The far more important wins of the day were:

• Recognising my own ‘good selfish’ needs.
• Having the confidence to act on those needs.
• Speaking my truth, even knowing he might not like it.
• Setting and respecting my own boundaries around finances and refusing to be his secretary. He’s always expected me to deal with officialdom and paperwork – even after he left he was asking me to follow up an insurance claim for him (I didn’t). By the time he left I’d long since stopped being pleased to be able to help, feeling increasing resentment at his feigned inability. I told myself I would never do it again, and I stuck to it.
• Above all, the stand out win has been recognising just how damned strong I actually am.

Taking this back to the lawn metaphor – those little bare patches of raked out soil inside me, the ones that still need some growth and healing? They got a lot of attention today, a few new seeds too – I think they’ll be showing lush new growth very soon.

MUSIC OF THE DAY: All Time Low/Avril Lavigne – Fake As Hell

JP