A Personal Story – Part 1

Almost two years ago, our marriage finally ended. After over 20 years together, our “being together” had come to an end. We will forever be parents of three beautiful children. A gift given to both of us from our once beautiful, strong, and enduring love. Unfortunately, it wasn’t future-proof, but the love for our children is. It was also a moment for me to reflect on who I was, what I wanted, and especially where I wanted to go from this point on. After several years of hard work on myself, overcoming pain from my life, my childhood. Pain for which no one is to blame, but which now has victims. VictimS, plural, because it’s not just me who is a victim. The sweet mother of my children, and of course, my own children, are also victims. We are all victims of something for which no one is to blame. Radical acceptance of this was my task, my mission, my journey.

This journey began in the final years of our marriage, but not soon enough to save it. Now it began with a sabbatical from our shared home, a time that felt natural. It arose from grief—the divorce—but it was an opportunity to seize upon. Still living together in our old family structure, I started looking for a new future. No assignments were forthcoming, not a problem at first, but over time it became a concern, as my savings were slowly running out. First, a paid week (how wonderful is that) in Norway (thanks Roelof for that opportunity), then continued searching, continued working, continued building.

But where do you build when you’re in a place where you actually have to leave, even want to leave? I couldn’t find a house. My grades were too good for social housing, and there was no urgency, because thankfully my children have safe and familiar shelter. Mortgages or private sector rentals weren’t feasible in the current market. Apparently, as an individual, you’re not urgently looking for a home. Temporary occupancy at a holiday park (where mostly migrant workers live) wasn’t an option either. I’d always be on the waiting list around the 10th to view the chalet, and within an hour I’d receive an email saying the chalet was taken, so on to the next one. Hotels and Airbnbs are unaffordable. It seemed hopeless…

Norway beckoned, a chance to get away, distance myself, relax, find new focus. Norway is usually the best place for me to do that. It turned out to be a golden opportunity. Norway is much more expensive in almost everything, except housing. And that made Norway a cheap alternative to leave my old house. I literally had a wonderful trip in Norway that lasted about six months. It was also an intense journey. A great deal of sadness crossed my mind. Had an almost spiritual encounter in the surface of the water with (my grandmother) Mima telling me “It will be ok”. The immense loss of my parents, the feeling of failure towards those same parents. The collapse of my marriage to the woman my parents had taken in as their own daughter. And for whom they repeatedly took sides in disagreements with me. I managed; she had no family here. My parents would have been devastated by our divorce. And so would I, honestly speaking… But now I feel it’s for the best. We can both move on, we’ve both found new love, both have new goals and new prospects. And together… together we’ll get through this. Together, as in a different kind of togetherness than the one we both ever desired and sought, but a togetherness that is so desperately needed for our children. We’ll get through this… Together!

It was also a time of saying goodbye to other people who were once close to me. People you don’t easily and quickly part with, but that’s for the best. It gave me, and still gives me, peace. I literally got air again; breathing literally became lighter and more enjoyable. Although the wonderful air in Norway certainly contributed to that, I know that. But still… The peace this decision brought was more than welcome, however sad and difficult that choice was.

Meanwhile, the search for new work and housing was still stalling. Even from Norway, I couldn’t seem to make any progress. And the harder I searched, the harder it became. I didn’t understand it; it didn’t feel right, yet at the same time, it felt right. I knew I really HAD to get started now, but every time something turned me off, there was no sense of loss. It was right or just that it didn’t work out. And that brought new doubts: “What kind of guy am I? I can’t even find work.” What I’d been good at for years, I couldn’t sell anymore. Despite the improved peace of mind, I couldn’t manage this step. After six months, I moved back to the Netherlands, nearly penniless, still without a roof (even my car lacks a roof, a joke I used to make it clear that I’m doing quite well in my convertible) and still no income. Bills kept coming and arrears piled up like the mountains in Norway…

I moved into a regular holiday park, around spring break. The costs were sky-high… But I had nowhere else to go, so what else could I do? My girlfriend told me she could go home for a month’s holiday. She’s Filipino and works for a unique employer in Beirut (I won’t say more about it here, but believe me, it’s a remarkable story). She often doesn’t hear until late if and when she can go home for a holiday. Now, suddenly, that moment had arrived. I checked a plane ticket and a parking spot for my car (thanks, Anneke) and flew there. This was almost a third of the cost of a month where I was staying. So, that choice was also a very easy one financially. I was also well into a job application process that would be completed after my trip to her. So that looked good too. A good job at a great company. A permanent contract. That also opened the door to a house. Spending another month with my girlfriend on this beautiful archipelago. Life looked good again for a while…

In a next blog post, part 2: “Between love and emptiness”