Why my divorce changes how I feel about Brexit

Helen - 7 Jul 16

It’s been a tough couple of weeks to live in Britain, no one can deny that. But although it may not be a popular opinion for anyone under 40, I’ve come to think that actually Brexit might be the fresh start we need for our kids.

Let me explain where I’m coming from on this, as I know that right now a lot of people are feeling lost and let down, angry, disbelieving, wondering what to tell their children, hoping to wake any minute from a bad dream, heart pounding, tangled in sweat-drenched sheets.

Well, I’m in the middle of a divorce. I know that’s nothing special: thousands of women are in the same boat, but it’s given me a different outlook and I can’t help but draw parallels between what’s going on in my own world and the European Union.

A few months ago I felt bereft. The future I believed in, that I had come to expect and rely on and invest in, was no more. Instead I was looking at a different future. An uncertain future not of my choosing. I felt lost and weak, helpless and insignificant. And I had no idea what was going to happen in the future, or what to tell my children.

But then (mainly as a result of the crippling insomnia that followed the separation) gradually I began to think it through. To allow ideas to formulate in my mind, to sift through the muddy mess in my head searching for clarity, answers, direction. Questioning myself, my place in the world, my decisions, my faith in my own opinions and how best to go forward and create a new future for my children. The rosy veil that had covered my world lifted.

And I came to see that the relationship I thought I’d had, the shared goals and dreams and interests, no longer existed. Those things had been missing for some time. For too long I had been undervalued, dismissed, told what to think and what I should be doing. I was being controlled. By someone who felt they were superior. Who felt that only their way and their opinions held any weight. Who I had to ask before making the most basic decision.

As a result I had become introverted, fearful, unsure. And I had really tried to make things work. I had tried harder. I followed the rules, even though the rules kept changing, even though in my heart I didn’t truly believe they were right. I tried to keep the peace, and as many mothers do, I tried to keep my family together.

I was afraid of what going against the status quo would mean. I was terrified of the repercussions for me and my children, so I believed with a blinkered determination that everything would be better if I could just keep it all together.

But then I had no choice but to think about the alternative. And suddenly – and against what I thought – it didn’t seem quite so scary. When it was this big unknown I could hide behind my denial (“I can’t possibly think about this now, it’s just too big and too much”), but facing up to it forced me to look at the realities and the practicalities.

And from somewhere deep inside I summoned strength I didn’t know I had, got myself a solicitor and started divorce proceedings. Being the instigator doesn’t make the process easier (it definitely makes it costlier as you shoulder the fees with no guarantee that they will be recovered from “the other party”) but it does give you back some control. And for me, that was priceless.

Then I allowed myself to hope that it was possible to start over, without the security blanket of a long term relationship. And more so that this could (whisper it) maybe be a good thing?

At the start of any relationship, of course we don’t like to think of it ever ending. We begin with such giddy excitement, confident that together we can be better, with a mutual respect, fusing our combined knowledge and experience and working towards an idealistic shared future that we both have a hand in crafting. But in both love and politics, a relationship has to allow each of the partners to flourish and grow, to develop independently as well as together.

And I’ve come to the conclusion that not everyone is meant to be in a relationship at all times. A divorce, although horrible and unsettling and painful, acts as the start of a new chapter, a new world and a new life. One we hadn’t previously considered.

No one can be blamed for being scared of the unknown, it’s a natural human emotion. And I wish I had a crystal ball, both for my own situation and for how independence from the European Union will pan out, I really do. But what I’m taking from my own experience so far is that in the midst of this terrible uncertainty, new and unexpected things can happen. New friendships can form, older ones can solidify, support can come when you least expect it – and most need it. And it’s because of this experience that I have allowed myself to have faith that Britain could also go it alone and be OK.

Even when it’s a change you didn’t want, or expect, that you feel you’ve had no control over, in time, things can get better – you can feel better. And I do. I’m not completely ‘there’ yet, so I can’t tell you how my story ends, but I can tell you right now I feel happier, more confident, more excited about the future, more sure of myself and how I think.

So while you may still be in the grief stage over the Brexit results, and I fully understand that (and that’s fine, and the fact I’m no longer too scared to express my opinions is incredibly freeing in itself), I urge everyone who feels despondent and low to try to hold off jumping to hasty conclusions until we know more of what is likely to happen next, and most importantly, to have hope. Hope that although the future doesn’t look like we thought it would, that a new and different future could still be a positive thing for our children’s generation. And believe too that we have the power to make that happen.

Helen

Helen is a freelance writer and mum of two.

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