When I'm Gone

Throughout my life, I've flitted from one shiny object to another. I was attracted to males who fancied me and rejected by the ones I wanted with all my senses. I took jobs with employers that would have me. I never once planned a course through my days, weeks, months, and years. I still don't. What will be, will be.

The flow I followed meant choosing what felt right at the time. When it didn't work out, I'd change jobs or men. I concluded I did not have the tools to fix anything or anyone. I tried to make relationships work, but when your other half has no intention of meeting you halfway, only hurt follows, and it's rarely the male who feels it before you leave. Afterward, only one of three realized what he'd lost. Too late.

Enough of men. Humans, like other animals, attract via scent, strength and intelligence, and attractiveness. Our brains are wired to select the best mate to produce the best offspring. I figured I'd fulfilled my duty to the human race with just the one and left my ex-husband to raise our son. He had nothing else in his life he wanted to achieve. He appeared happy with his lot as a tradesman and father.

On the other hand, I have never been satisfied with anything or anyone who crossed my path. Always left wanting more or better. My career allowed more middle management luxury, suits for the office, satin dresses for celebrations, a sports car, holidays. I bought and sold a handful of houses.

Some would say I had it all, and I threw it away. But those voyeurs would have misunderstood me. They missed that the wealth of good fortune didn't amount to happiness, only emptiness. Some women stay with one man for a lifetime. I'm happy for them both - they found a way to love and respect each other. A compromise, a give, and take.

My husband mistook me for a wife who needed a man to dictate our lifestyle. I went along with his plan for a few years until the scales fell off my eyes. He controlled everything by budgeting our joint finances and not allowing any discussion on the subject. A common trait among Virgo males, so I'm told by my mum. She left my dad, and he refused to allow her to see her daughters. His eldest daughter wanted to keep him happy so he wouldn't leave too.

Traditionally, men have a way of getting what they want from children and women eager to please and who fear abandonment. It's a life-defining moment. My self-imposed lifestyle solution to avoid this form of post-traumatic stress disorder is to commit abandonment rather than be made the victim.

The two exceptions to rejected men in my life are my son and my dad.

My need to control my environment roused me to get to where I am now. I left my last long-term relationship in October 2010. By January 2011, my ex had proposed to a local woman in our dream retirement town (until it became my nightmare), and I had started a new life in Prague, Czechia.

I trained to teach English as a foreign language. I met other broken women who had put their lives back together and others who never would. A quick fix for a lifetime of bad choices, doing the right thing because that's what it takes to fit in with the majority.

The full healing process took about eight years. Several slips, men, of course, and none worth mentioning. A creative writing course occupied my mind and time.

As a child, I read with a glutton's appetite and wrote stories too imaginative for some teachers. Life and good times got in the way of paperback escapism during adulthood, but short getaways were always found at bedtime when sober, and there was nothing better on offer.

With the advent of the internet and laptops, writing also became an option. It filled a need. At first, my skills reached three true fans. They enjoyed my write like I speak approach and a 99% lack of commas. An online publisher observed a ninety-word paragraph (with no commas) was too long for most readers.

While teaching conversational English to Czechs during the day, I spent my cancellations, evenings, and weekends learning how to write creatively. I even got away with not learning grammar until I was fifty! Eventually, some things have to be addressed to progress with our passions.

I realized I didn't have to do what I'd always done. I could choose a better unbeaten path. I didn't need a man for money or to look after me. I had the abilities and opportunities to learn, earn, and live how I chose.

In the past twelve months, I have written for three publishing platforms and earned a living from one of them. I even achieved three viral articles on one publication and top writer status in climate change and sustainability on another. Had I found my greatest shiny objects?

The helter-skelter ride of constantly seeking a viral story left me shattered. So, I invested in myself and learned how to self-build an Earthship. Also, a strawbale cob house. Most likely, I'll start with the latter because it's simpler. Then I'll decide if I want to live my days out in it at the bottom of a large garden of the house my son will renovate or construct the Earthship I learned how to build.

When I'm gone, and my words remain, the men who took me for granted will see me shine.