Christchurch earthquake.

Thank you to everyone who was concerned about me after the Christchurch earthquake. We are OK. We were in no danger, and we didn’t even feel anything.

Today began like an ordinary day. I weeded the garden, and I did a load of washing. I was going to go to the supermarket, and I intended to write a post on my blog (now postponed). After lunch, Five’s school rang. Five had a sore throat. He wanted to come home.

When Five and I returned home, I read on Twitter about a 6.3-magnitude earthquake in the city of Christchurch. It quickly became clear that Christchurch had suffered a devastating quake.

Christchurch is in the South Island, about 200 miles from where we live (up the coast from Wellington in the North Island). After a massive quake in September, Christchurch has suffered many aftershocks.

Despite only being a 6.3, today’s quake was more severe than the September quake. It was closer (only about six miles from the centre of the city) and shallower (only three miles underground), and it occurred at lunchtime—when the city was full.

At the time of writing 65 people have been confirmed dead. The number of fatalities is certain to rise. Rescue workers are working through the night, trying to save people who are still trapped. Since we are only a small country of about 4 million, in times of crisis, it really feels like family. Across the nation our hearts are aching.

Photo source: Stuff.co.nz


More dirty laundry.

I've been thinking about the best way to tell you this. In my bewilderment, I even went to some other blogs, looking for a template. Do I try to write about it like DWK or Waffle? Or Jessica? What did Neil write? Or BHJ, when he wrote about his “monstrous freedom”? My mother’s advice is to say as little as possible.

Bringing it up, just talking about it, feels wrong. It's like airing dirty laundry. People don’t want to know about it.

I realise (as with most things in life) there is no instruction manual. Fifty percent of marriages end in separation, but there is no right way to tell people about it.

Adam and I have separated. I have written a lot about my marriage on my blog. After the dust settles and some issues are ironed out, maybe I will write more about it.

There is a finite number of ways to talk about how separation sucks. I could tell you how afraid I was to leave. I could tell you I felt as if I was swimming under water, and I surfaced.

I am enjoying the prospect of being single and doing whatever I want. I sometimes feel waves of relief.

But there is also sadness. And anger. And guilt.

Even with a more equitable child sharing agreement, I don’t want to pack Five’s duffel bag for the weekend. I hate not seeing him for several days.

Hearing about someone’s breakup is tiresome. It's only entertaining up to a certain point. Then it becomes uncomfortable. I know this, and I don’t want to alienate you.

But  don't know how much self-control I will be able to muster. I don't have a stiff upper lip.

Closing comments for this post.