Last updated at 3:08 AM on 26th November 2011
DEAR BEL
My husband and I have been married for 35 years, having known each other all our lives. We have three lovely children, all making their way in the world, and our first grandson was born this year.
We moved around the country as my husband’s career progressed (he’s a director of a successful company) and I’ve always supported him, dealing with the practical side of life.
On a couple of occasions when my husband was out of a job, I was quite happy to go out to work and then help him do research — this was in pre-computer days.
The children have not spoken to my husband since then but we still live in the same house, although we do not sleep together
Seven years ago, he began an affair. I feel awful writing this, but if the woman concerned had been in her 20s, slim and beautiful, I could have understood it but she’s not (my mother, a domineering woman who died last year, always called me, ‘neither ornamental nor useful’!).
The children have not spoken to my husband since then but we still live in the same house, although we do not sleep together.
Last New Year, he asked if I would meet the woman. Although everyone said how mad I was, I reluctantly agreed (how stupid can you be?) with the result that she is now a regular visitor to the house.
When I was clearing out Mum’s house, I came across certain documents, the details of which were at odds with what she told me, such as my twin brother’s middle name (he died at three days).
As the only surviving member of the family (Dad died when I was 19), I researched and managed to locate the grave. Visiting was quite upsetting as it was overgrown and unkempt and there were several other babies in there, too.
I don’t feel I’m coping. I’ve met a couple of men, but things have not gone any further. I’ve lost a lot of weight, but have no self-confidence and hardly ever look in the mirror as I don’t like what I see. I’ve tried counselling, but that didn’t work out. I’m volunteering at my local school and trying to get a permanent job.
All I would like from life is for the children and my husband to be reconciled, but that’s not going to happen. I feel that I’m tearing myself apart and putting everybody’s needs before my own (I feel so selfish admitting to that) and just to cap it all, my beautiful, faithful dog is very poorly. What do you advise?
LAURA
Reading your letter yet again, it’s hard to work out which make me more sad — your mother’s cruel comment, or that humble statement: ‘All I would like from life is for the children and my husband to be reconciled.’
I see a whole life story within those two phrases — the young woman consistently belittled by her own mother turns into the mature woman who has been used and ill-treated yet still puts her own needs last.
So let me begin by saying that, whatever you maintain, this cannot be ALL you want from life.
It is time for you to stop being the martyr who hands the executioner the blunt sword, then meekly kneels down at the block for some more brutal hacking.
It so happens that I might well be one of the few women in the world who can understand why you agreed to meet your husband’s lover and now accept her visits. Without going into detail, I know about that sort of self-sacrificial tolerance.
Its origins are complicated; enough to acknowledge that it’s one thing to be ‘good’ but another to be stupid.
It reminds me of that heartbreaking Jacques Brel song, Ne Me Quitte Pas when the wronged person begs, ‘let me become the shadow of your shadow... the shadow of your dog’. Enough! From this day forward you have to start your progress from the shadows into the light.
Your mother’s attitude to you was disastrous, and can surely be held responsible for your lack of confidence and inability to assert yourself within your marriage.
The sorrowful little reference to your twin’s neglected grave makes me wonder what pain and grief she repressed at the loss of her only son and whether it turned her against her surviving baby.
Perhaps she felt you were never good enough, since you were only half of two. The truth can never now be known; all you can do is try to make peace with her within your heart. It could be a good idea to return to that grave, tidy it and plant something hardy like a small rosemary, symbol of remembrance.
Perhaps it would give you some comfort to think of the aromatic fragrance and blue flowers, flourishing in your absence.
Bel answers readers’ questions on emotional and relationship problems each week.
Write to Bel Mooney, Daily Mail, 2 Derry Street, London W8 5TT, or e-mail bel.mooney@dailymail.co.uk.
A pseudonym will be used if you wish.
Bel reads all letters but regrets she cannot enter into personal correspondence.
And help you reflect that just as you are hearing, smelling, tasting, feeling and seeing — then you owe it to those little souls buried in that forlorn spot to live the one life you have. In the 16th century, rosemary bushes in a garden became a sign of a strong woman in a household, so focus on that too.
I believe you have to refuse to allow his woman to visit and tell your husband to leave. The domestic arrangements are humiliating and untenable and you must decide it’s over. Go to see a solicitor about a judicial separation and see what he/she has to say about the house.
If it has to be sold to fund two flats, then face up to it, but there is no chance of your starting a new life unless you get rid of the man who has hurt you so much.
Maybe in time he’ll build bridges with his angry children, but now it’s not your problem. You’ve been putting yourself last for far too long — and you know it.
Shock your husband by packing up his clothes when he’s at work, and have the cases waiting in the hall. Let him go and shack up with his woman; tell him you will change the locks if he doesn’t.
I hope and pray your beloved dog gets better, but I want you to see that you are the ‘poorly’ one, and you have to cure yourself.
DEAR BEL
I’m 19 years old, and have known since I was 15 that I’m gay. I’m not out and don’t have any plans to come out.
However, there is this one guy whom I sit opposite in my group at college — he’s cute, funny and attractive and makes me and the whole group laugh.
I’m not sure if he is gay — but from the pictures I have seen on Facebook, I presume he is straight. I don’t even think he sees me in any way — I mean, that I fancy him. He sits directly opposite me and I look at him over my computer screen, look for him around college, and watch/wait for him to walk into the group.
I won't ask or tell him how I feel because I don't think he would understand. Maybe he would? (picture posed by models)
The past half term was the worst, waiting until we both went back to college so I could see him again. I see him for about 12 hours a week.
Fridays are terrible because I won’t see him again till the following week. I dread the weekends because I can’t see him, and hate it when the time comes on Friday afternoon that I have to walk off and leave him.
I was hoping for some advice. I won’t ask or tell him how I feel because I don’t think he would understand. Maybe he would? I don’t know what to do.
JAMIE
The kind of crush you describe can be felt by anybody, no matter what their sexuality. By the way, my use of the word ‘crush’ isn’t mean to patronise or diminish your feelings in any way.
The word is useful for describing a wordless obsession that can’t be called love or passion or anything else, but settles heavily on your mind, squeezing out all other thoughts, and literally taking your breath away.
Sometimes a crush can be fun, do no harm — then pass. But if it gets out of control and makes you miserable, then it could turn into something harmful — what the film calls a ‘fatal attraction’.
I’ll come back to the issue of the Attractive Guy (AG), but before that it seems important to ask whether knowing you are gay and yet keeping this significant fact a complete secret is good for you? Why have you not come out? I can’t help wondering whether you worry what effect it might have on your family and old friends. Are you ashamed?
Whatever your attitude, and even if you don’t have fears about the reaction of others, it seems to me that it would be a good idea to talk this through with somebody you trust. Is there a counselling service at college?
Otherwise you could try a dedicated helpline like Outline Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual and Transsexual helpline — 01483 727667; email info@outlinesurrey.org. You may not realise it, but Relate also offers counselling to young people on a wide range of problems. Look at their website (relate.org.uk) to find your nearest office, or the helpline.
I realise that you may be one of those fortunate people who isn’t especially bothered by sex; nevertheless, I would hate your deliberate silence on the matter to lead to feelings of isolation. Truly, I think you need to sort these feelings out before you reach your 20s.
Back to AG — do you consider yourself his friend or just one of the group? I would be careful of mooning about like a lovestruck young teen, or hanging about waiting for him like a putative stalker.
Neither approach is friendly; either could lead to people mocking you. Since you have no idea about AG’s sexuality, but suspect he is heterosexual AND (in any case) have no intention of coming out, then friendship with him is your only option.
You describe somebody with a lovely personality, so I suggest that you try hard to make yours match it. Stop staring at him and start brushing up your conversation.
A guy who ‘hates the weekend’ doesn’t sound much fun, but somebody who can ask what plans people have and can tell them about his own — well, he’s the kind of person others want to hang out with. You need to find out who you are, Jamie.
Last weekend something lovely happened in our house. We gave a dinner to celebrate my father.
On New Year’s Day, he will reach the grand age of 90, but January 1 is no time to invite people to travel. Yet his special first cousins Lucy and Gina (with husbands Jim and Mike) would be an essential part of any such event, and they live in Chester and Liverpool.
And in any case, you should never put things off —because none of us know what will happen. So why not have a small family celebration which isn’t a birthday?
Why not raise a glass and sing For He’s A Jolly Good Fellow and tell Ted how much he is loved and respected? Don’t wait for the snow, but seize the day!
So that’s what happened. Robin and I bought vast quantities of food and drink, he peeled a lot of potatoes and I chopped too many onions. My sister-in-law arrived with a delicious squishy chocolate cake, son Dan served up the starter...and many hands do make light (ish) work.
My mother looked terrific in her new dress, her face soft and pretty in the candlelight. Sadly, my brother died a year ago, meaning we’d have been 13 at table, if our little dog Bonnie hadn’t rounded up the numbers and stood with me to propose the toast.
After dinner, musician Ray Martin (a friend’s brother) arrived with his accordion and guitar and sang songs from the Forties and Fifties, while Dad (and some of the rest of us!) bellowed in unison and son-in-law Ed re-filled the glasses, again and again.
How happy it was! Old photographs and family stories were shared, my children loved being reminded of their Liverpool heritage (‘Wow, you actually met George Harrison?’ and so on) and my father got used to being made a fuss of.
And I was so glad I’d decided on this plan, about two months ago. We might be powerless to affect what happens in the news, but that’s no reason not to celebrate those who matter to us, while we can.
DEAR BEL
We moved around the country as my husband’s career progressed (he’s a director of a successful company) and I’ve always supported him, dealing with the practical side of life.
On a couple of occasions when my husband was out of a job, I was quite happy to go out to work and then help him do research — this was in pre-computer days.
The children have not spoken to my husband since then but we still live in the same house, although we do not sleep together
Seven years ago, he began an affair. I feel awful writing this, but if the woman concerned had been in her 20s, slim and beautiful, I could have understood it but she’s not (my mother, a domineering woman who died last year, always called me, ‘neither ornamental nor useful’!).
The children have not spoken to my husband since then but we still live in the same house, although we do not sleep together.
Last New Year, he asked if I would meet the woman. Although everyone said how mad I was, I reluctantly agreed (how stupid can you be?) with the result that she is now a regular visitor to the house.
When I was clearing out Mum’s house, I came across certain documents, the details of which were at odds with what she told me, such as my twin brother’s middle name (he died at three days).
As the only surviving member of the family (Dad died when I was 19), I researched and managed to locate the grave. Visiting was quite upsetting as it was overgrown and unkempt and there were several other babies in there, too.
I don’t feel I’m coping. I’ve met a couple of men, but things have not gone any further. I’ve lost a lot of weight, but have no self-confidence and hardly ever look in the mirror as I don’t like what I see. I’ve tried counselling, but that didn’t work out. I’m volunteering at my local school and trying to get a permanent job.
All I would like from life is for the children and my husband to be reconciled, but that’s not going to happen. I feel that I’m tearing myself apart and putting everybody’s needs before my own (I feel so selfish admitting to that) and just to cap it all, my beautiful, faithful dog is very poorly. What do you advise?
LAURA
Reading your letter yet again, it’s hard to work out which make me more sad — your mother’s cruel comment, or that humble statement: ‘All I would like from life is for the children and my husband to be reconciled.’
I see a whole life story within those two phrases — the young woman consistently belittled by her own mother turns into the mature woman who has been used and ill-treated yet still puts her own needs last.
So let me begin by saying that, whatever you maintain, this cannot be ALL you want from life.
It is time for you to stop being the martyr who hands the executioner the blunt sword, then meekly kneels down at the block for some more brutal hacking.
Its origins are complicated; enough to acknowledge that it’s one thing to be ‘good’ but another to be stupid.
It reminds me of that heartbreaking Jacques Brel song, Ne Me Quitte Pas when the wronged person begs, ‘let me become the shadow of your shadow... the shadow of your dog’. Enough! From this day forward you have to start your progress from the shadows into the light.
Your mother’s attitude to you was disastrous, and can surely be held responsible for your lack of confidence and inability to assert yourself within your marriage.
The sorrowful little reference to your twin’s neglected grave makes me wonder what pain and grief she repressed at the loss of her only son and whether it turned her against her surviving baby.
Perhaps she felt you were never good enough, since you were only half of two. The truth can never now be known; all you can do is try to make peace with her within your heart. It could be a good idea to return to that grave, tidy it and plant something hardy like a small rosemary, symbol of remembrance.
Perhaps it would give you some comfort to think of the aromatic fragrance and blue flowers, flourishing in your absence.
Bel answers readers’ questions on emotional and relationship problems each week.
Write to Bel Mooney, Daily Mail, 2 Derry Street, London W8 5TT, or e-mail bel.mooney@dailymail.co.uk.
A pseudonym will be used if you wish.
Bel reads all letters but regrets she cannot enter into personal correspondence.
And help you reflect that just as you are hearing, smelling, tasting, feeling and seeing — then you owe it to those little souls buried in that forlorn spot to live the one life you have. In the 16th century, rosemary bushes in a garden became a sign of a strong woman in a household, so focus on that too.
I believe you have to refuse to allow his woman to visit and tell your husband to leave. The domestic arrangements are humiliating and untenable and you must decide it’s over. Go to see a solicitor about a judicial separation and see what he/she has to say about the house.
If it has to be sold to fund two flats, then face up to it, but there is no chance of your starting a new life unless you get rid of the man who has hurt you so much.
Maybe in time he’ll build bridges with his angry children, but now it’s not your problem. You’ve been putting yourself last for far too long — and you know it.
Shock your husband by packing up his clothes when he’s at work, and have the cases waiting in the hall. Let him go and shack up with his woman; tell him you will change the locks if he doesn’t.
I hope and pray your beloved dog gets better, but I want you to see that you are the ‘poorly’ one, and you have to cure yourself.
DEAR BEL
I’m 19 years old, and have known since I was 15 that I’m gay. I’m not out and don’t have any plans to come out.
However, there is this one guy whom I sit opposite in my group at college — he’s cute, funny and attractive and makes me and the whole group laugh.
I’m not sure if he is gay — but from the pictures I have seen on Facebook, I presume he is straight. I don’t even think he sees me in any way — I mean, that I fancy him. He sits directly opposite me and I look at him over my computer screen, look for him around college, and watch/wait for him to walk into the group.
I won't ask or tell him how I feel because I don't think he would understand. Maybe he would? (picture posed by models)
The past half term was the worst, waiting until we both went back to college so I could see him again. I see him for about 12 hours a week.
Fridays are terrible because I won’t see him again till the following week. I dread the weekends because I can’t see him, and hate it when the time comes on Friday afternoon that I have to walk off and leave him.
I was hoping for some advice. I won’t ask or tell him how I feel because I don’t think he would understand. Maybe he would? I don’t know what to do.
JAMIE
The kind of crush you describe can be felt by anybody, no matter what their sexuality. By the way, my use of the word ‘crush’ isn’t mean to patronise or diminish your feelings in any way.
The word is useful for describing a wordless obsession that can’t be called love or passion or anything else, but settles heavily on your mind, squeezing out all other thoughts, and literally taking your breath away.
Sometimes a crush can be fun, do no harm — then pass. But if it gets out of control and makes you miserable, then it could turn into something harmful — what the film calls a ‘fatal attraction’.
I’ll come back to the issue of the Attractive Guy (AG), but before that it seems important to ask whether knowing you are gay and yet keeping this significant fact a complete secret is good for you? Why have you not come out? I can’t help wondering whether you worry what effect it might have on your family and old friends. Are you ashamed?
Whatever your attitude, and even if you don’t have fears about the reaction of others, it seems to me that it would be a good idea to talk this through with somebody you trust. Is there a counselling service at college?
Otherwise you could try a dedicated helpline like Outline Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual and Transsexual helpline — 01483 727667; email info@outlinesurrey.org. You may not realise it, but Relate also offers counselling to young people on a wide range of problems. Look at their website (relate.org.uk) to find your nearest office, or the helpline.
I realise that you may be one of those fortunate people who isn’t especially bothered by sex; nevertheless, I would hate your deliberate silence on the matter to lead to feelings of isolation. Truly, I think you need to sort these feelings out before you reach your 20s.
Back to AG — do you consider yourself his friend or just one of the group? I would be careful of mooning about like a lovestruck young teen, or hanging about waiting for him like a putative stalker.
Neither approach is friendly; either could lead to people mocking you. Since you have no idea about AG’s sexuality, but suspect he is heterosexual AND (in any case) have no intention of coming out, then friendship with him is your only option.
You describe somebody with a lovely personality, so I suggest that you try hard to make yours match it. Stop staring at him and start brushing up your conversation.
A guy who ‘hates the weekend’ doesn’t sound much fun, but somebody who can ask what plans people have and can tell them about his own — well, he’s the kind of person others want to hang out with. You need to find out who you are, Jamie.
Last weekend something lovely happened in our house. We gave a dinner to celebrate my father.
On New Year’s Day, he will reach the grand age of 90, but January 1 is no time to invite people to travel. Yet his special first cousins Lucy and Gina (with husbands Jim and Mike) would be an essential part of any such event, and they live in Chester and Liverpool.
And in any case, you should never put things off —because none of us know what will happen. So why not have a small family celebration which isn’t a birthday?
Why not raise a glass and sing For He’s A Jolly Good Fellow and tell Ted how much he is loved and respected? Don’t wait for the snow, but seize the day!
So that’s what happened. Robin and I bought vast quantities of food and drink, he peeled a lot of potatoes and I chopped too many onions. My sister-in-law arrived with a delicious squishy chocolate cake, son Dan served up the starter...and many hands do make light (ish) work.
My mother looked terrific in her new dress, her face soft and pretty in the candlelight. Sadly, my brother died a year ago, meaning we’d have been 13 at table, if our little dog Bonnie hadn’t rounded up the numbers and stood with me to propose the toast.
After dinner, musician Ray Martin (a friend’s brother) arrived with his accordion and guitar and sang songs from the Forties and Fifties, while Dad (and some of the rest of us!) bellowed in unison and son-in-law Ed re-filled the glasses, again and again.
How happy it was! Old photographs and family stories were shared, my children loved being reminded of their Liverpool heritage (‘Wow, you actually met George Harrison?’ and so on) and my father got used to being made a fuss of.
And I was so glad I’d decided on this plan, about two months ago. We might be powerless to affect what happens in the news, but that’s no reason not to celebrate those who matter to us, while we can.
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