I survived my separation, but didn’t do it gracefully.

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Was Simon my saviour? The love of my life I’d always been missing?

No. He was just a well-disguised rebound.

From the beginning, it seemed like we got along fantastically, but no amount of love could take away from me the unbearable grief I felt over the end of my marriage. Some days he’d pick me up off the floor or hold me in his lap while I sobbed.

I was so desperate not to feel the pain I was experiencing and so scared to be alone and stand on my own two feet for the first time in ten years that I ignored our disparate value systems, our plans for the future, the fact that he didn’t care to raise any more children when I had two young ones myself.

I tried to live in the fantasy of that relationship for as long as possible, but after three months, the bubble burst and I left him too.

After my relationship with Simon ended, I was again in another hallway facing more closed doors.


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