A few years ago, almost 5 exactly, as it goes, I quite naively inextricably linked my life to someone else’s. That person then found this blog, and all anonymity that I had in writing here was lost, and lost to someone who really shouldn’t be reading my stories, even if just for their own well being.
It’s complicated. And for a long time I think I was waiting for it to not be anymore. But it’s not going to change. I was a key player in the break up of two marriages, two people were devastatingly hurt by something I willingly did. I can’t change it now. I’ve never tried to not own it, and not writing it doesn’t make it disappear.
In short, I fell in love with my best friend. And he fell straight back. While we were both married. With kids. Things fell together, then apart, then back together again. It was a long, messy, complicated, funny, sad, delirious, lusty, heartbreaking season.
In the years that have passed, I’ve considered posting on other platforms to regain my anonymity, especially because I enjoy writing as a process of self discovery and reflection, but every time I come here, and I see my archives, cataloguing my grief, my stories of healing and my children’s growth, I know that it’s not something I want to leave, or separate into two different sites.
And now there’s a whole new reason to start writing again. A brand new little person who’s stories I want to tell, our dreams for her need recording, given she’s our dream come true.
You see, it worked out.
Against all odds. Despite all the pain and mistakes, and things we’d do differently if we had the time again, my best friend and I? We’re still together. Still best friends, still infatuated with each other, and now we are together besotted with our child. Our daughter. The most amazing thing that has come from all the winding roads that have led us here…
Painting The House Pink 