Dear Bel,
It’s Jane again from Sussex. I have written to your column for the past eight years and have found great comfort in your wise and compassionate responses.
Now something new puzzles me. In memory of. . . Eight years ago my partner Peter left me suddenly and devastatingly after 13 years.
As we went shopping for our vacation, he told me he hadn’t wanted me for several years. His quick departure followed the deaths of both my parents. The cumulative loss caused deep sadness and shock.
At my lowest point, unable to live with the pain, I even considered suicide. I am grateful that your compassionate response brought me back from the abyss and encouraged me to realize that my life is worth something to myself and others.
years passed; I worked for a charity, supported prisoners, trained as a crisis counselor and started to travel again, often on my own. Life began to offer light, fun, and warmth again, and I was grateful. But there was still a gap and I wrote to you again because I doubted I would ever meet anyone again at 60.
Your response got me thinking: you pointed out how much I have done to help myself and others and made me realize that I should recognize achievement, friendship and courage. They also reminded me that believing in possibilities is important.
I wrote again a year later, just before lockdown destroyed our lives. I was struggling on several fronts – health, being fired and Peter’s upcoming wedding. I kept trying to stay positive, but the London Bridge terrorist attacks had just happened and the world seemed grim and dark. I asked why (if I try so hard) are there so many obstacles?
Her answer was honest, pragmatic and yet compassionate. You used the excellent analogy of getting lost in a maze and stressed the need to move on and try to hold on to the values inherited from my parents like courage, integrity and humor. Because what else can we do? So that’s what I did: move on. Then the unexpected happened: Exactly one year ago I met David. We knew each other a little through our work and I had tried to support him when his wife died prematurely. He’s lovely and we make each other happy.
We travel, share values; I teach him how to cook, he fixes my IT, we enjoy the big things (champagne in Paris) and the small things (quarrel over the cryptic crossword). There is so much we would like to do. . .
So, what’s up? Me. I find myself pushing him away, maintaining an emotional distance and almost picking disagreements. I’ve longed for affection, romance and security, but I refuse to believe it’s real.
I spoke to David about it and he understands, but it hurts that I don’t trust him. I do, but I just can’t believe I deserve any good or that things won’t fall apart again.
Am I taking the risk, Bel? Or should I cut my losses now?
JANE
This week, Bel speaks to a woman who worries about the risk of falling in love again after their devastating breakup
A question I’m often asked is if I hear from readers whose letters have been published. The answer is yes, and it’s always encouraging.
I am especially grateful to you for keeping in touch, as your story (neatly summarized by you here) is at once deeply personal and touchingly universal.
thought of the day
But we will have [a proper Christmas] Sooner or later, 1947 or 1948 or maybe even 1949. And when we do, may there not be somber voices from vegetarians or teetotalers lecturing us about what we are doing to our stomach lining. . . Christmas is here now, or almost. Santa Claus rounds up his reindeer, the postman staggers from door to door under his bulging sack full of Christmas cards, the black markets are booming…
From a December 1946 article by George Orwell (English journalist and novelist, 1903-50)
You are a strong, inquiring person, but at the same time you can hear the voices of others who are lost in the maze asking, “Where am I going? How do I continue?’
Very often readers find comfort and guidance in the problems of others, and I am sure many will sympathize with your long search for comfort and love. You kept going, texting me along the way and never giving up hope entirely.
Hooray! But (I have to be as honest as you here) other readers might be upset by what they see as a willful rejection of happiness.
Be glad what you have, woman, they will say! I can see both sides, so let’s pick a path and unravel as we go.
When I was a kid, my dad faced the annual scramble with Christmas tree lights. My brother and I watched excitedly as he carefully unraveled, draped, turned on and… . . nothing.
He patiently tested each bulb, tried again, tested again, tightened a bulb, tried again. . . became increasingly angry and bit his tongue as his kids whined, ‘Why don’t they work Dad?’ and the lights stayed dark.
But he kept trying (no alternative really) and in the end the little artificial tree glowed scarlet, green, orange, blue and yellow, illuminated the glitter of baubles and tinsel and created a thing of such beauty that it took our breath away .
Decades later, I can still relive the miracle of darkness becoming light. Disappointment banished once again.
A cheap bottle brush tree and old lights completely transformed by the patience of an ordinary young man who always strived to do what was best for his family, even if he got nasty along the way.
Why am I telling you this? Because I know you will understand where I am taking you, you who still grieve for your own father and appreciate the lessons he taught.
Surely how sad he would be if his daughter refused to further unravel her life. Maybe he’s a little frustrated by the woman who stubbornly refuses to believe that light can work?
You know that your cruel treatment by Peter was bound to have a lasting effect. If I remember correctly, there was a previous failed marriage that would have done little to help your confidence.
Looking back at your first letter, I see how poorly Peter treated you for a long period of time, an indifference you have (amazingly) accepted.
This suggests a woman capable of showing a brave face to the world she has fearlessly traveled, yet a weak, frightened child at heart, unworthy of kindness.
You wear a heavy mask of defiance to hide your tears and keep people away. How can I persuade you to turn it down?
Over the years, I’ve written a lot in this column about change, that ongoing process that inexorably leads us towards spring even as we celebrate Christmas and settle into midwinter.
More from Bel Mooney for the Chron…
I am drawn again to the sayings of the medieval Persian poet and philosopher Rumi, who advised: “Don’t think that the garden loses its ecstasy in winter. It’s quiet, but the roots are down there, riotous.’
In fact, the change process can be very painful, as you discover. You must allow it, which means opening yourself up to painful truths, just as the earth has no choice but to be sliced open by sharp green.
Do you realize that if you don’t believe in David’s affections, you’re allowing Peter to continue destroying who you really are? Don’t you see that by refusing to consider yourself worthy of the love of a good man, you allow the “bad guy” to write the story anyway?
Isn’t it time you stopped using past unhappiness as an excuse? Another gem from Rumi: “Stop making yourself so small. You are the universe in ecstatic motion.’
It’s incredible that eight years later you’re still tilting your head in punishment, so it’s time to change.
Finally say “yes” to happiness! You and David have both experienced great heartache and now have a chance to share so much if you let them.
Of course, love is always a “risk”. Even those who survive a life of glory are ended by cruel death, or rather not “ended”—just transformed into another form.
People who are afraid of pain might as well never leave the dark room they hide in.
So please vow to make 2023 the year you learn to turn on the lights within yourself.
Let the baubles and tinsel glitter as you celebrate new love. Open a bottle of Sparkle for me – and enjoy.
And finally… Share happiness everywhere
The wonderfully grateful cards, letters and emails I receive from you are early Christmas gifts and I am so grateful. This one in particular inspired me so much that I wanted to dance for joy:
dear Bel
I turned 18 this year and for my birthday my mom gave me my old books from nine years ago as a valuable gift. Among them I found your KITTY AND FRIENDS book series, which was the biggest part of my childhood and almost cried last night. I just wanted to thank you for being in my memories and reminding you of your worth.
Best wishes to you.
With love,
Stella
Contact Bel
Bel answers readers’ questions about emotional and relationship issues each week.
Write to Bel Mooney, Chron, 2 Derry Street, London W8 5TT or email [email protected].
Names are changed to protect identities.
Bel reads all letters, but regrets that she cannot maintain personal correspondence.
Can you think of anything more beautiful for a writer? We always hope for effect and every now and then we’re lucky enough to get evidence. So thank you Stella! (and mom).
Those years as a children’s writer, publishing about 35 books and speaking in schools and festivals across the country, have been tremendously happy. I thought that when grandkids showed up, new inspiration would strike, but it didn’t. So in 2005 there was a reinvention. . . and here I am telling you a Merry Christmas in the brilliant Chron.
This year will be my first year as an ‘orphan’ and I’m finding this (and other family issues) pretty tough. But we must always be prepared for change.
As I wrote our Christmas cards and turned the pages of the old Filofax, I saw how many people had lost touch, moved away or (unfortunately) died. It happens doesn’t it? Maybe you don’t want to do the things you used to enjoy anymore.
Children grow, times change, we change with them and the process has to be accepted. Life takes you in new directions, so try to make the most of it. In the meantime, there’s the quiet satisfaction of living in the present and sharing as much happiness as possible. Like Stella – the real star who warmed my heart on a bitterly cold day.