I wanted to write something feisty and funny this month. But I can't. Well it may be funnier towards the end, but not the first bit. The reason? I feel really sad. I don’t want to use this column as self-indulgent therapy, but I thought that you might relate to bits of it.
I split with my boyfriend this month - after years of really trying to make it work. At first I felt a sense of relief, then terror, then 'if only' and now sadness.
Articles like: 'pack an anti-ageing lunchbox' in the Reading Chronicle, just make me feel worse and remind me of the years ticking on. Ending a relationship in your forties, is not like falling in and out of love when you are 16, although for teenagers the pain may be just as acute.
There's not as much 'messing about', or trying him/her on for size in your middle-age (terrible phrase). And for me, as a woman, saying farewell as a mid-forty-year-old, means more than just moving on and trying again. I am also saying goodbye to the possibility of having a child - a double whammy then. Like losing a lottery ticket which someone else picks up, and because it's a winning combo, they get the cash. Tough and unlucky, but nothing you can do.
The fact that 'granary even provides calcium, essential for healthy bones' (back to the lunch box article) - is not much comfort when appetite has diminished and lust for life is a little jaded. It will return, I am sure, but there it is.
Grief, like that big lump of granary bread which is supposed to be so good for me, sits like a dead weight in my guts; shifting only when I cry or am distracted by some insignificant daily task. I tell God about it. I endlessly chatter, moan and wail, as that's all I feel up to. I presume he/she listens and sometimes I feel heard. But I still feel sad, and truthfully, a bit of a failure.
My cat is a great comfort through all of this, seriously. To her I am a competent and caring provider, with a warm lap to leap into. She is totally non-judgmental, extremely vocal, and demands to be fed, even if I am deeply fed up.
Newspapers know that animals boost moods and nourish the soul. Midge the five-year-old Jack Russell is the Oxford Mail's latest signing in its quest to stir up World Cup fever. He's no doubt cock-a-hoop about wearing an England shirt and dribbling with (or should that be dribbling over) a football.
Midge’s owners run 'Trimmers', a hair salon which is a cut above when it comes décor. You'll find St. George's flags by the basins, mirrors and hairdryers - and no doubt a red and white ‘barnet’ is a big hit with die hard fans.
This is not for my cat, who is remaining a classy taupe, but she and I are nevertheless daily visitors on the Sun's 'Please improve Wayne Rooney's foot' cut-out-and-keep prayer mat. How's that for commitment?
July 20th. London Ontario, Canada.
Forgive my intrusion here, but having read through the article from the dear lady who had just suffered a broken relationship; and whom you choose to criticize for writing concering it here, I feel that you sound somewhat uncaring and rather uncharitable in your approach. You say that this lady ought share this sadness with her Family. Well, what if this lady has no Family at all, with whom she might share this sad event in her life.
Since I am an Archbihop of the Old Roman Catholic Church, Latin Rite, I have not had the joy or sadness of having experienced "broken relationships", other then with my adorable little dogs, who have all too quickly departed this vale of sorrows, at a far too early age, leaving me behind to experience a profound loss, so in some manner, I do understand her great loss, and the sadness and hoplesness which accompanies that situation. It seems to me that by sharing this item with you, not giving the Name of the recently departed boyfriend, no harm is done, none whatsoever; and I understand full well the consolation she is taking in the constant love and affection, plus the dependance upon her, of her beloved cat. Please pray for her, as you say, and for all such who suffer fractured relationship, be it through death or just a plain old "break up". God is abundantly able to heal all of our infirmities, and He will supply this dear soul with an abundance of His Grace.
Archbishop Boniface Grosvold, STD., DSLit.
The Old Roman Catholic Church, Latin Rite, Archdiocese of Canada, London, Ontario, Canada.
Please convey my thanks to the writer of this article. It was written straight from the heart. Please give the writer my best wishes that she will continue to find solace in her cat and will also find it in her family and friends.
Claire Catford says in her opening paragraph, "I don’t want to use this column as self-indulgent therapy."
I regret Miss Catford that you have done just that. While I really do sympathise with you in your broken relationship, (we have all been there - all had our hopes and aspirations dashed), is this not a matter for you and your ex, the support and succour of your and his immediate circles and your fellowship alone?
I do not feel that all of us across the Diocese need to be aware of it; especially given that beyond prayer for your sadness and that God will show you the way forward from here, there is little or nothing that we can do constructively, especially given that the vast majority of us do not know how or why the collapse occurred and are very unlikely to ever meet you.
In thinking of you, perhaps we and you should also be thinking of your ex in his mutual disappointment of the collapse of your relationship. As I do so, I wonder how he feels about his, as well as your, situation being published across the Diocese in this way? I would suspect acute embarrassment.
I would want to think of and pray for all those who find themselves alone, whether through relational or marital collapse or worse still perhaps through bereavement after many many happy years of marriage.
I wish you well in the future, but I would ask that if you write future columns, you might like to reflect and think twice before you commit fingers to keyboard.
Ed Ingle
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