The same day Rosie Green’s husband left the family home after his affair, she lost her job. Feeling dumped, duped and devastated, the journalist and beauty director picked herself up, started writing and soon discovered that success is a great healer.
‘I turned my husband’s infidelity
into a best-seller…’
I am a paid-up member of The First Wives Club. I got inducted five years ago when my husband had an affair and my marriage, unsurprisingly, imploded. My welcome pack included devastated children, financial insecurity and floored
self-esteem.
The breakup broke me.
The same day my husband left the family home (with no forwarding address) my main employer told me I was surplus to requirements.
In my industry (journalism) your success is as contingent on self-belief as it is on writing talent. So as a shaking, snivelling, shrinking wreck I believed I was now finished professionally as well as personally. No employer was going to be buying this.
It took an abundance of love and support from friends and family, some anti-depressants and several expensive therapy sessions to survive the first few months.
Then, slowly as winter turned to spring, I noticed the ball of anxiety inside of me was shrinking. I started to feel a modicum of hope, to see slivers of light in the darkness. One day, through snot and tears, I started writing about my experience. I didn’t sugar coat the shittiness. I was honest about being left. I was clear there was no conscious uncoupling, I was dumped, duped and devastated. My pain leapt off the page and something about my writing appeared to touch people.
Every time I sent a piece off to an editor, I felt anxious. Worried that I was exposing my children to more harm or that I would come across as an undatable screw up. But honestly, it was the best way I found to exorcise some of the pain. And it made me realise that though this was the lowest I’d ever sunk, I was feeling things more deeply than I had done for yours.
The pieces had the welcome side effect of raising my profile. Newspapers, magazines and podcast hosts started asking for features and interviews. ITV’s This Morning called and I became, for a year or so, their go-to relationship expert. Then a publisher asked me to write a book about the end of my relationship. The result was How to Heal a Broken Heart.
Everything really took off after that. I was described as ‘the poster girl for divorce’ by The Times and my lowest point became my career’s turning point.
After this I was offered travel opportunities and even though I was nervous about leaving the children and my support system, I knew I had to grab them. Leaving home gave me thinking time, rest and a vital new perspective.
It’s no coincidence that I did some of my best writing on planes. There’s something powerfully emotional about the transience. I typed out my first piece about the breakup on a flight to the Middle East to see my friend and her family. I was sandwiched between my children, trying to keep the tears in my eyes from spilling onto their sleeping heads. And though still devastated, I returned feeling a sense of achievement for successfully solo parenting, grateful to have felt the warmth of the sun and with one magazine commission completed.
Then I travelled alone to a heartbreak retreat in Italy. I hugged trees (literally), ate nourishing food and had my hair brushed by an Italian nonna. I went to SHA Wellness retreat in Spain with my BFF (she said the design had Dignitas vibes) and signed up for everything from therapy to yoga to a dental hygienist session. I went on mini breaks - Switzerland, Morocco, Bath – with men I dated, which was thrilling.
Each trip opened me up to new experiences, laid down new memories and reminded me of my independence. It forced me into the present and pushed the painful past back into the distance.
As I trudged through those first few post-break up years, I realised that, for me, travel is vital to the healing process. So, to anyone in the throes of life crisis, I say even if it seems too overwhelming, impractical or too expensive, book your tickets now. You won’t regret it.
You can buy Rosie’s book here, and follow her on Instagram @lifesrosie.
