The Break-Up Retreat(22)
I feel like a child being scolded, decades’ old shame rising to my cheeks.
“Keep going,” Martina says.
“You’re just saying words,” Pernilla spits at me, like she’s been waiting for the opportunity. “I don’t even think you loved him. How could you have? Look at you. I don’t even think you cared about this man. You say you wanted to marry him, but you didn’t think about what that would mean. You didn’t think about the sacrifices you would have to make. You just wanted to wear a pretty dress, and take some pretty pictures, and this man was nothing but a placeholder. Someone to stand next to you and look pretty. You never cared about him. You never cared about him!”
Her voice rises until it’s a screech; small, red dots are burning high up on her cheeks. Her hands are closed so tightly her knuckles have gone completely white.
Once she goes quiet, Pernilla is panting, her lips pale and trembling.
Martina stands up from her chair.
“Thank you,” she says, sincerity dripping from her words, “for sharing that, Pernilla. Thank you for being truthful with us.”
Martina throws me a look.
It’s only for a second, but it feels longer. Like she can see through not only Isobel Anderssen but Isobel Lindschold, as well.
All the way down to the rottenness under the skin.
“I think we should take a little break, now,” Martina says, and looks away, at the others. “There’s tea and snacks in the lounge at the end of the hallway. If you want, please feel free to go outside and walk around for a bit. The fresh air is nice.”
I hurry to stand up and begin to walk toward the door, but then I hear Martina’s voice:
“Hold on a second.”
I start to turn, slowly, like in a nightmare, but then I see she’s not looking at me. She’s looking at Pernilla.
“Pernilla, would you mind staying here with me a little while longer?”
It’s only when I get outside, in the hallway, that I realize I’ve clenched my jaws, my shoulders, my hands; when I force them to release, my muscles are shaking.
I remember what Sandra said, back when this all started.
I don’t know what she tells them in those therapy sessions. But it’s not good. She’s got some kind of strange hold over them. It’s scary.
You have to see it to believe it .
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doctormartinahastings I’ve been thinking a lot about change lately. Most people seem to think about winter as a time to hunker down, batten down the hatches, and hold out until spring. But it’s also a wonderful time for reflection—for taking stock of your life and trying to figure out whether or not this is what you really want.
I decided to divorce my husband in the winter. I remember the exact moment when I realized it was over. It was 2020, the first year of the pandemic (I know, a covid divorce—such a cliché), a few weeks before Christmas. We had both been working from home for eight months. Henrik took his meetings in the office, and I took mine in the bathroom. We had dinner together every night, and we took turns cooking.
There was nothing especially awful about that evening. From the outside looking in, it would have seemed charming, maybe even perfect. I made stroganoff, and Henrik set the table. He asked me how my new book was coming along. I asked him when he thought the market would begin to recover. We chatted a little about Christmas, and about whether or not it would be worth the risk to have his sister and her two boys over on Christmas Eve.
We were two charming, attractive (it’s not cute to pretend like you don’t know you’re cute), highly accomplished professionals. We still had sex on a regular basis. By all objective metrics, we were doing great.
But I remember looking at him over our beautiful, refurbished dinner table, the one we had gotten from his parents as a wedding present, and feeling my heart sinking. Because I couldn’t deny the feelings I had been pushing away for so long anymore.
We were divorced six months later. It was the hardest thing I have ever done. And the best thing. Henrik and I are still friends, and we both agree the divorce was the right decision. One of us just had to be brave enough to speak up.
Times of cold and quiet can be times for reflection, as well. It can show us who we really are, when we are removed from the hustle and bustle of everyday life. It can resurface old dreams and desires.
That is what I love most about winter. You look around, and everything seems dormant. But under that layer of snow and ice, rebirth is growing.
If you want to hear more about how I made the decision to divorce my husband, you can sign up for my online course on how to know whether your relationship is really right for you. Link in profile!
1007 comments
mmmmarie001 You’re book changed my life <3
ztrongnotzkinny Have you considered collaborating with a dietician? I have a new free e-book out on how gut health affects sexual health and libido and I think you’d find it really interesting!
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clarabellavida You are SUCH an inspiration!!! Also, looking fab! Loving the snowflake earrings, where did you buy them?
dianainstilettos merry Christmas! do u celebrate?? i thougt you were hindu
Ljhefnhvbjgbvmb You make me sick. People should know what you’ve done. You’ve ruined so many lives. You are a fucking fraud.
Chapter 13
Belinda is waiting for us in the lounge. One wall is all tall windows, showing the idyllic landscape outside, the surface of the pond rippling gently in the breeze, a few puffy clouds floating by in the high, blue sky, as though dotted there by a wistful painter.