I split with my husband 15 months ago. Calgary's hot rental market means we still share a roof
I was ready to start a new chapter and move on. The problem was affordable housing
This First Person column is the experience of Tammy Nelson, who lives in Calgary. For more information about CBC's First Person stories, please see the FAQ.
Fifteen months had passed since my husband and I had separated, but it didn't feel like much had changed.
I was eating dinner at the same table, sitting right next to my ex-husband.
We are no longer a couple and he has a girlfriend. But because of Calgary's tight rental market, we're both still living in our family home. This evening our two teenage sons were out. My ex ate silently, scrolling social media on his phone.
"This is lonely and surreal," I thought, eating the pre-made fish fingers and fries he'd cooked for dinner.
Our relationship hadn't always been like that. He was my boyfriend in university and we married 24 years ago. My husband was independent and playful. I loved his fun-loving nature. We shared similar values and we rarely fought.
Then we had children and slowly everything changed. The boys had medical issues and I cut back to part-time work to care for them. My husband found other interests and left for fishing or backpacking trips most weekends.
We grew apart and I began to feel invisible – a maid and a mother, nothing more. In May 2023, I told my husband I wanted a separation.
Speaking the truth about my feelings and wants was a huge relief. I was ready to start a new chapter and move on. The problem was housing.
Calgary's housing market was and is hot. Across the country, people have heard of what the provincial government calls the "Alberta Advantage" and have been flocking to Calgary for less expensive housing and job opportunities. That drove up prices here and, by 2023, the average monthly cost for a 2-bedroom was $1,695, which was almost my entire monthly wage as a part-time administrative assistant.
So my ex-husband and I worked out a deal. We decided to stay living in the same house, in separate bedrooms, and we would alternate being away on weekends to give each other space.
During the week, we both worked from home twice a week — he in our tiny backyard office and I from a small desk in the dining room.
He also committed to making dinner more often, and I accepted that we would be eating more pre-cooked, frozen meals. I continued managing the family finances, but I stopped doing his taxes and filing his medical benefits.
At first, I found the arrangement agreeable. I crashed at friends' homes on my weekends away. Sometimes I got lucky and was able to house sit while others travelled. Other times, I slept in spare basement bedrooms. I spent more time with friends. I rested.
At home, my ex and I got along because neither of us wanted to make waves, and I no longer spent energy listening to his stories or engaging him in conversation about his hobbies or work. It also gave my sons time to adjust to our separation.
But four months in, I started to feel like I was imposing on friends and begging for favours. It ate at me and got to the point where I wondered if I should have just kept quiet, going through the motions in my marriage for another few years.
Then a friend let me stay in her empty condo as it was being renovated. I hauled in a mattress for the floor, a folding table and chair, and a place setting for one. It was lonely, but just what I needed.
I was sitting at the folding table on a Friday in late January, wondering how to fill the time, when I searched the internet for "Things to do in Calgary this weekend."
A group photo walk topped the list and without overthinking it, I signed up.
The next day, I walked with the group along Calgary's iconic pedestrian mall — Stephen Avenue. I took out my smartphone, an older Android model I had purchased second-hand.
I honed in on a colourfully-painted park bench. Then the lights strung from the tops of the buildings caught my eye, then chalk sandwich boards, fire hydrants and a black-and-white mural of old-time ladies of the night, painted on the side of a brick building.
The ladies in the painting looked proud and confident, as if staking their claim to the avenue. I could do that, too. And suddenly, standing in the street, I was not a wife or a mother, I was Tammy. A person. Doing something just for me.
Soon the success of the photo walk had me trying other activities — free art galleries and a Calgary Philharmonic Orchestra concert. I went to movies alone. I took embroidery and writing workshops and despite the on-going issues at home, I experienced more joy than I had in years.
Today, I'm still living in the same house as my ex, but I have a freedom that has nothing to do with my living situation.
I have a new full-time job with better pay to give me some options. And I hope that within months, my ex and I will finalize a legal separation agreement and sell our house, so I can qualify for a mortgage and get a new place on my own.
Whatever happens, I have freedom because I no longer define myself only by my roles of wife and mother. I allowed myself to finally speak my truth.
Telling your story
This First Person piece came from a writing workshop run in partnership with the Calgary Public Library at the Crowfoot branch. Read more about CBC Calgary's workshops at cbc.ca/tellingyourstory.
More personal stories from CBC writing workshops:
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