I'm glad to be returning to work next week having tested out our new morning and evening routines now that Peter isn't here. My situation is much different to many, as Peter has always been practically hands on with the children. I've never had to experience the load of the morning chaos single-handedly before, but I have learned that for some reason, it's calmer. I don't think that the juggle of the mornings ever came easily for Peter, but he persevered in his usual sense of duty.
The children are doing well.
They have adjusted to the changes; not going into Peter's room first thing in the morning; not having Daddy to dress them and brush their teeth. I think they've realised that they need to do more and be more independent, often without me saying so.
I really miss Peter, not just practically, I just miss his presence I think. Feeling safe and secure. I miss touching him, even though I didn't touch him enough. I don't miss the superficial conversations, or sitting silently on the sofa in the evening on our phones, or the sinking feeling when the children have gone to bed, wondering whether he'll connect or hide away for the evening. Maybe I just miss the idealised version of him. I find myself feeling guilty, wondering what I could have done differently, despite giving my all. It's ironic really that men like this, who haven't made the same sacrifices, don't experience the same level of conscience.
It's difficult as Peter isn't able to have the girls over night at the moment or for very long, so he is having to spend a lot of time here at the house. The children don't deserve to miss out on him putting them to bed, or eating the odd meal with him. I had to call him to come over on Tuesday evening as our youngest daughter refused to eat anything unless Daddy came to eat with her. I called him, he came over and I put him a meal out too. Our little girl then sat merrily eating her dinner, because Daddy was sat next to her eating. I can't rob her of that experience.
It's a fine balance between keeping things civil and pleasant for the children but showing Peter that life is different now. I worry that his life hasn't changed enough, even when he's had to leave and that, for him, he's able to deal with everything pragmatically- that everything is more or less the same, he "just" sleeps in a different bed, in a different house each night.
If I'm honest, I realise that I didn't want the end to be the end, that I thought Peter might put up a fight or finally tell me he loves me and go back to therapy. But he hasn't. I had a moment of weakness on Wednesday and I cried to him about his lack of effort and lack of fight. He was very confused... "but you told me it was over."
These types of men don't realise that they are the masters of their own lives and can make choices, fight for what they want, let go of what they don't. He's spent his entire life floating from one thing to the next or remaining stagnant, resisting change. I'm not sure he'll ever experience regret or realise what he could have done to avoid all of this. These men don't just resist change, they resist growth, "I am who I am."
I feel a sense of sympathy towards Peter at times, because although I see a man who is stubborn, defiant, selfish at times, I also see a man who is frightened. Scared of his own feelings, lost and bewildered as to why his life has fallen apart and too fearful to expore the reasons why. Self awareness should be avoided at all costs.
Unfortunately, I think he will ride the wave of his discomfort and wait, do nothing, before our new situation feels comfortable to him and contentment kicks in. For me, I'm not sure contentment really will happen, because although I needed to initiate this separation, I never wanted it. All I've ever really wanted is to love him care for him and that be reciprocated and even that, is a concept that he finds difficult to grasp. He was "doing" all of the things... parenting, cleaning, chauffering, days out, days in, cooking... emulating behaviours of the perfect partner, but never really "feeling" or connecting on a deeper level.
I can't keep exploring whether Peter is afraid to feel, or is infact incapable of feeling because I've lost myself in the process. Separated life is far from the life I wanted and in the midst of the worst recession the UK has seen in years, a messy living arrangement is the best we can manage. Moving on isn't possible like this. But perhaps what is possible is letting go- of the expectations, of the whys, of all the questions and of the day-to-day low level pain and disappointment. I now have some space to grow and some space to just breathe.
But mostly, space to feel.
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