The Punch

A bit of background: I grew up in the outback and my sister and I were tomboys who regularly engaged in rock fights and good-natured bike ramming with the neighbourhood boys. I was sporty and feisty, and my Dad taught me how to punch properly when I was young – just in case I ever needed to. 

So, this leads me to a confession… When I discovered Y (the Other Woman) at X’s new living-the-single-life digs one morning, not long after he left me, I gave her my finest left hook and knocked her to the ground.

Time seemed to stand still for a few seconds, as I distinctly remember thinking that I had to avoid hitting her glasses before I gave her an upper cut to the cheek. And just to give to the whole ugly scenario an authentic white-trash vibe, my baby was sitting on my right hip.

I’m not going to lie – it felt profoundly satisfying at the time, and it was somewhat of a relief to literally come face to face with the truth after enduring months of X’s deception. But over the years that punch hasn’t served me well, and it still keeps coming back to haunt me – proving that no good can come of a violent act.

Aside from the obvious – I could have caused injury and been facing an assault charge – it gave X and Y all the fuel they needed to regularly play the “crazy” card. I was instantly labelled “profoundly violent” and this has resulted in me having zero contact with Y for the past eight years (apart from a couple of emails, the last sent in 2009).

In all this time I haven’t even as much as glimpsed her. Whenever I’m dropping my sons to spend the weekend with X, I have to send him a text in advance of our arrival, presumably so Y can make a hasty exit. She never answers the phone and we have never communicated regarding the boys, except for the time she gave my eldest son a haircut (oh yes she did!).

It's a pretty ludicrous situation. Over the years I've attempted to change it by suggesting to X that we all meet and put our ancient history behind us, but the mere suggestion seems to send us all spinning out of control and generate unnecessary drama that we're all forced to feed off for a few days.

                                                                                                                                                        Source unknown.

I’m typically told that my attempts to extend the proverbial olive branch are not genuine and – being my hot-headed self – I react negatively (I’ve penned some pretty heated missives that have probably enhanced my crazy-woman status). And so the avoidance goes on and we never get any closer to resolution or peace, or anything remotely healthy or grown-up. 

I’m left feeling frustrated and defeated, and I’m sure X must feel exactly the same. We just can't seem to get beyond this point. Even our sons think it’s pretty ridiculous after all this time – us so-called adults are hardly setting a good example of how to make amends and move forth with dignity.

Regrettably, I really think a large portion of the whole mess can be traced directly back to THE PUNCH. And while I can’t take it back, I can say that it hasn’t been worth the trouble. I can also take responsibility and make one last (and cross-my-heart genuine) attempt to make the situation more tenable for everyone.

In the meantime, all good advice is welcome.