For a large part of my married life July meant travel. We would either beat a path to the airport and vanish off for at least three weeks or more into the depths of Southern Africa with only minimal personal luggage but masses of light-weight camping gear, or make for the ferry and head for France – usually with the car packed with every comfort!
I have waxed lyrical about our travels through Namibia and Botswana before. But gosh how I miss that sense of adventure. The feeling of travelling into the unknown with the man who became who he wanted to be as soon as we escaped the UK. It was like a switch in both of us!! He became the protector and carer and I responded by being the feminine me I love being! It worked like magic! And I don’t care what he says now. He blossomed and grew when we were away. He denies it now. Of course he does – not to would be in conflict with what he has done. Easier to bury any happiness and convince himself it wasn’t that good. His new version of what we had and what we did is easier to face than anything else. But then I suppose all cheaters and runners do that.
And ‘runners’ do. Be they male or female! Then, so often, they write books about it and convince themselves that their quest for Free Love, Wild Love etc was all about finding themselves and how wonderful it now is. Interestingly so many of these so called ‘self-help’ books involve a dash to a new partner! Strange that!! What I find ‘dangerous’ about these books is that they manage to convince the waverer that the answer is in running. They fail to mention that actually deep-down, the issues won’t have gone away because no one can run from themselves.
When Alex and I went on holiday we both ran into our true selves. That’s not to say the rest of the time was one ghastly nightmare – it wasn’t. It was good. But the time we both appeared to meet our true values head-on and give to each other all of the time was when we were safely away from home. Pity he can’t see that!
So July is tough as it was so truly spectacular before!