What Having My Heart Torn Out My Arse Has Taught Me…

12 months ago today, the Artist Formerly Known As My Wife left our family home and our marriage, as time would tell, was officially over.

I’ve sat down a few times today to write something about this, feeling that such a momentous occasion should be commemorated in some way with words of wisdom and profundity.

But I don’t have any.

She, in her infinite wisdom has moved on.

I, in my somewhat limited knowledge of all things pop culture, have moved sideways. This is not as sad as it sounds and reflects more upon a return to a long misplaced strangeness, rather than a lack of actual motion in my life.

I have learned a lot over the past twelve months, about myself, my life, the life I thought I once had.

I have learnt that you have to love what you love and to never let go of yourself. You are a commodity and you should be treasured.

I have learnt that the only permanence is impermanence and I have learnt that there is no such thing as regret. There is only a sharp buzzing pain that occasionally strikes you in the nether regions of your conscience, but that fades over time.

I have learnt than I am worth far more than I might have previously thought and that my ambition had never really left me, it had merely been drinking alone all this time.

I have learned. I guess that’s all I really mean.

I don’t like to say I’ve grown as that particular term seems better suited to plants. I also can’t say that I’ve changed as a greater part of me has probably regressed, picking up some long forgotten threads of myself which I was always quite enamoured with but which I had callously abandoned in my previous journey.

It has been quite the 12 months.

Of course, experience does not so neatly acquiesce to units of time, so the journey continues. After all, 12 months is not a great span of time in the great scheme of things.

So until the next year passes us by, let me just say that I am still here and that I am fine.

Anything beyond that might highlight the arse I truly am when hindsight allows me to look back over my shoulder.

Until then, I remain, myself.

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