Taking Responsibility

John started a new job the same week that lockdown was announced so he’s been on probation. We have been forced to live together through our separation although I don’t think he’s been as bothered about it as me.

This week, John was told his probation has been extended for another three months. Not ideal but better than not having a job at all. They cited these being ‘unprecedented times’ (the words of the year), recognising they hadn’t given him the same support as if everyone were in the office. He was happy – I was happy. I felt like it meant we could finally move forwards.

I called my brother for advice – telling him that John’s job was more secure now, lockdown has been eased so I want to ask him to leave but don’t know how. My brother said to go gently – just ask him what his plans are and talk about timelines.

I did not want to have the conversation.

The next morning, John greeted me with a hug in the kitchen followed by “are you sure you don’t want to try again?” I told him I was sure. He nodded. It was all still fairly pleasant so I took the plunge:

“So, now that your job is secure-ish, what are your plans? Are you going to start looking for somewhere…?”

His face immediately dropped.

“I don’t know” he answered gruffly.

The little dark thunder cloud appeared over his head.

I knew better than to pursue it and our eldest had just walked into the room so I said ok and walked away.

Within the next 20mins, John came to find me three times. The first time, he told me I was ‘really insensitive’ to have asked him that at that moment. I said I wasn’t trying to be insensitive.

He walked away. He returned saying “I’ll start looking into mediation and see if I can book something to start next week if you’ve got half the money.” He was still angry – in fact, probably angrier than the first time. I nodded.

When he returned the last time, he was less angry and told me that ‘frankly, I don’t want to be here either’ and that he was only here because of lockdown and not being made permanent on his job yet ( I did not mention that about 20mins ago he was asking to try again – yet he doesn’t want to be here…?).

He was in a mood the rest of the day, only mellowing finally come the evening.

Before going to bed, he started saying how sorry he was that things had turned out the way they have – how he felt his life would have been so different if he had had a better father. He kept going on about it until I couldn’t take it anymore. John’s dad had left when he was small saying he was going on holiday and would see him in two weeks. He did not come back.

Years later, a friend of his dad’s found John on social media and they got back in touch. John has carried the hurt of that moment for many years which I understand but to blame your lack of a father for the way your life has turned out is not right.

My dad also left when I was small and died suddenly when I was 9 years old. Whilst I did have to deal with the rejection and the fact that I would never be able to talk to him about that, it didn’t shape my life negatively. My brothers are brilliant men and brilliant fathers and uncles – they are involved, they are present – even though our own dad was not. So I cannot buy the whole ‘it’s someone else’s fault why my life is rubbish’. I take offence that his life is crappy anyway. He has people who love him and support him and – even though people might say I’m crazy, I still support him and have not turned my back on him. No, life isn’t how either of us expected it to be right now, but my life is still full of joy despite all the lows that have occurred over time.

I ended my speech by saying that at some point you have to take responsibility for your own actions and because it is your life.

Mic drop.

Silence.

He didn’t say another word and I felt it best to leave him to think about what I’d said.

It was also an awakening for me. I will not have this conversation with him again. It is his life – not mine. If he wants to wallow and say his life is terrible then that is his choice. It is not my responsibility to show him the good things he has going for him or to bring him out of his moods.

It was never my responsibility.