Installment Fifty-Four

So, dear reader, allow me to recap like one of those television shows that brings viewers up to date at the start of a program.

Previously, on The Rest of My Life:

Middle-aged, menopausal, globally-oriented woman, recently dumped for a very young woman in an overseas posting by serial philandering husband who embezzled her inheritance, returns to former haunts in search of 'home' and to lick her wounds in an attempt to begin the third act of her life.

Orphaned as a teenager, she is now supported by her kind ex-mother-in-law and the generosity of family and friends. She lives modestly (read: in a dump) in sharp contrast to the country club life of an expat.

Initially, she dabbles in McWork kind of jobs (the only type of employment she is apparently qualified for after being out of the work force for thirty years). At the same time, she feels completely invisible as a fiftysomething woman and laments not living up to what she perceived as her potential to make a difference in the world.

Through friends new and old, she learns that menopausal women have little chance of finding meaningful work, never mind just meaning, unless they go after it themselves, directly.

Moving right along...

Her darling daughter of marriageable age brings home a fiancée who just happens to be the son of a childhood crush which let's be honest, our ditched menopausal heroine figured might lead her straight to Fantasy Land.

Unfortunately, she discovers the long lost (and unrequited) love is no better than the philandering schmuck she stayed married to for almost three decades (who incidentally, suddenly wants her back because he's being forced to retire, his young piece of fluff has abandoned him, and his health isn't so hot.)

Still with me?

This same woman, okay, I am talking about myself, is now entertaining the most radical of ideas.

Rather than curl up in the fetal position with a bag of salty potato chips, I have decided there's an opportunity to be seized amid the chaos of my conflicting emotions. But it comes with a catch:

I have to become ruthlessly selfish!

Yes, I can begin a brand new life, one that does not involve my being strangled by all the tangled threads of the people around me, including my children. But I can only do this if I can shake off my default position of martyrdom and selflessness (read: motherhood).

New official rallying cry: "It's my turn now folks. Figure things out for yourself!"

True confession: Everything suddenly became so clear to me while under the influence of my perfectly legal sleeping medication. Luckily, I was clever enough to write down my thoughts, albeit in bullet points.

• Deborah is old enough to marry so she is old enough to look after herself.

• Sean has a bright future so my daughter will be well looked after. Her grandmother will also ensure she doesn't want for anything including a wedding if she wants one.

• Brian actually is enjoying living overseas. So for the moment, he's fine and I have complete faith in the way I raised him that he too can look after himself.

• TBM can go fuck himself.

• Ditto long-lost-love Gabe Kelly.

• It's time to do what I want to do and forget about everyone else.

Will lightning strike me dead for even thinking such thoughts?