We are taught to be kind to animals, to the elderly, the weak, the helpless and the the less privileged. Nobody teaches us to be kind to ourselves, which is why we must learn to when the world treats us a bit unkindly.
This isn’t a ‘poor me’ post but one to say that if you are going through a divorce, acknowledge that it’s one of the toughest things you will face in your life. So it’s okay to go a bit crazy during this time.
I can now look back at all the strange things I did and laugh at my obnoxious self. Like telling a good friend, I didn’t really want to hear about her troubles because compared to my ‘real’ troubles, hers were just trivial inconveniences. I still can’t believe how insensitive I was but I have forgiven myself and luckily, so has she.
Borrowing money and then getting a haircut that cost almost as much as the GDP of one those small unpronounceable states in Central Russia. (Yes, yes, I’ve returned the money and my hair is back to its ‘who let the dogs out’ style).
Deliberately not picking up calls from the people who loved me. I wanted to feel all alone and they with their support were making me feel less of a warrior.
Then, in direct contradiction to the previous point, falling sick deliberately, so that I could get some more sympathy. Feel quite pathetic thinking about this, but there it is and I will be understanding about myself.
Writing my Ex a mail with all the bad words I could find on the net. I must admit this was quite educational and fun. I apologised much later for it, but he just brushed it away and thanked me for teaching him new words.
Thinking of adopting a child alone and doing all the paperwork for it, secretly. I knew if I had spoken about it to anyone, they would certainly confirm that I have to be certified and taken to the nearest loony bin. Just before the final stage, I chickened out. Thank god, that poor child hardly deserved to be my shrink and she could definitely not fix my life.
Buying a too-short, too-tight dress-I’ll-never-wear because I was scared that I wasn’t attractive and will never be. My six year old niece now wears the dress, it was that short!
I’m not a stalker but once, when I knew the Ex was out of town, I did go into my Ex ‘our’ house, using the key I still had. I remember walking around the rooms looking for signs of happiness and was strangely relieved to see that no interior decoration changes had been made. The house still held a million little touches that I had made to build our home. It was eerie like walking through a graveyard of memories.
I’m sure there are a lot more small and large, insignificant stupid and mean things that I did during that time. It doesn’t matter. I forgive myself for each and every one of them, for I’ve realised that being kind to yourself is a survival tool for cuckoo times.
Dancing Divorcee is a weekly happy, sad, funny, obnoxious blog on the misadventure called divorce. It will appear every Thursday. Arathi Menon is a dancing divorcee who also blogs, writes, tweets and repairs brands.