A year ago, I was a married working mom who lived in a decent-sized house in a quiet suburban neighborhood. Life was okay. The days were routine, and I went on about my life putting one foot in front of the other.
Tonight, I sit on my couch in my little apartment/villa/condo thing while my little cub is wiggling around in bed trying to fall asleep. Today was a work holiday, so I took the cub to daycare, came home and went for a rainy run, had a cup of coffee and a bowl of cereal, took a shower, went shopping, and came home and napped. Then picked up my mini-me, and did our nightly routine of dinner/bath/bedtime, with a nuclear meltdown temper tantrum sandwiched in between, and now I'm here. And I'm okay.
But some days I don't feel okay at all, and it's to be expected. I debated for a long time about whether or not I'd write a blog post about my divorce because this blog was intended to be about my darling little ray of sunshine who came into this world a little too soon. But this divorce is a pivotal point in her young little life, and this blog has reached far more people than I ever thought it would. And if anything in it could give some encouragement or hope to even one person, then it's worth baring my soul on the interwebs. *cracks knuckles* and away we go...
I didn't sign up for marriage with the intention of it ending. I admit- I'm easily disenchanted and I still, to this day, cannot finish an entire box of cereal on my own because I grow tired of it by the time I'm about 75% of the way through with it (even Lucky Charms, THE HORROR). That's just how I am. I like things to be fresh and new... but not my relationships. I entered my marriage with the understanding that "till death do us part" and "for better or for worse" were not just empty words we recited in front of our family and friends. I meant it. I didn't put on a white dress and walk down the aisle arm-in-arm with my father, both of us beaming with joy, just to one day have him hug me in my new apartment and say "I know it's not what you're used to, but you'll do fine." It was a comforting hug and a brief pep talk from a father who knew his daugther was in a world of pain and knew there was nothing he could do about it. I didn't choose to have a child with someone under the assumption that one day I'd lose half of that child that I fought to have in the first place.
But that is my reality.
And that reality is a little harsh right now, and some days it stings quite badly. On the day of our last marriage counseling session, when my ex husband all-too-enthusiastically announced "we are getting a divorce", the counselor said to me (as I sobbed on her couch) "the cruel irony of your life is that you put your foot down and decided to stop enabling and the result is that he decided to work on becoming a better person, just for someone else." I'm usually a fan of irony, but not this time.
After that counseling appointment, the domino effect of grief and loss began. I wasn't desperately clinging to my marriage and begging him to stay... I knew I deserved better and was willing to wait for it, but.. horse, water, etc. Even still- it felt wrong. It's the one decision that can seem right, but feel so absolutely awful. There have been no happy dances or divorce celebrations over here. I've been consumed by grief and loss, but am moving forward. I've said and done things that I'm not proud of, and seen sides of myself that I didn't know existed (and they aren't pretty). I've said hurtful things to the man I once loved more than anything else on this planet, and I can't take those things back. I tend to have a great ability to filter the hell out of my mouth, but not over these past few months. Emotional pain has a tendency to bring out the worst in people, including myself. My own therapist (and the marriage counselor during a subsequent couple of sessions with her to help me wrap my brain around all of this) told me that it's textbook grief and loss and that I'm moving forward at a steady pace, but I still wish I was able to keep my head on a little more straight. And my crown too. I'll get there. I am just forever grateful for the people who have seen me at my worst lately and still choose to love me anyways, because they know it's not the real me. It's the hurt me.
But the biggest thing I've learned: divorce is just one big, nasty pile of loss.
I didn't just lose my husband. I lost my home that I worked so hard to get. Packing up my belongings, throwing away my wedding mementos and pictures of my once happy family, and divding up furniture and household goods was indescribably painful. I knew it would be, but I didn't realize the magnitude of that kind of pain until I was experiencing it. Day by day, my once cozy and happy home was being dismantled and packed into boxes until it was restored to the same empty state as the day we moved in. I'll never forget the last time I went to that house... I remembered the day we moved in and how excited I was to fill it with my furniture and decorate the walls. I was brimming with joy and couldn't wait to settle in and make it my own happy home. And there I was that night, sobbing as I walked through each and every room in that house remembering the good times and the bad times. The room where my daughter took her first steps. The room where she said her first words. It's where we shared family dinners and made lots of memories. But it was also where I sobbed as I looked into the eyes of the person who had betrayed me and my trust. It was where I sat in disbelief after hearing that my surgery hadn't gotten all of my cancer cells out. It was where I said "I don't love you anymore," and where I heard the words "I need to set you free from me."
I lost people, too. People who I considered family, who suddenly disappeared. I want to ask "what did I do?" but I won't. I have to let them make that choice, even if it means I will forever miss people I love. I wish I could have the chance to explain it to them. Tell them how much they still mean to me. But I can't.
I lost an idea. The idea that my life would be lived happily-ever-after as an intact family under one roof. I lost the idea that I'd fall asleep with and wake up next to the same person until I was on my death bed. I lost the idea that I'd never experience heartbreak again. I lost the idea of family vacations, holidays, and family cuddles on the couch while watching a movie.
I lost half of my time with my child. This has been the biggest struggle for me in all of this- my very first blog posts were heavily underscored by complete desperation for my child to survive. I spent the better part of two years hoping and praying that I would have a child of my own... countless needle sticks, blood work, ultrasounds, pills, and a surgery all to have a chance at bringing a baby home from the hospital culminated in a four-week hospital stay and more hoping and praying about bringing that baby home. I finally brought her home- all 5 pounds of her- after another three weeks of hospital life. I spent another month or so watching her turn blue in my arms and being terrified that she wouldn't start breathing again. For almost three years of my life, I wasn't sure if I'd ever be able to throw a first birthday party for a child of my own. But I did... and now she's a sassy preschooler who is the center of my world... half of the time. It kills me. It absolutely kills me as a mother to go a single day without her in my arms and time is not making this part any easier for me. And it may not ever get easier for me, especially when the other half of her life is going to be spent with my replacement. It'll be a hard pill to swallow, for sure. I can only hope for the best case scenario for my child, despite how much it may hurt me.
I briefly lost my faith in love. Because love doesn't quit, and love doesn't hurt. Love doesn't walk away and metaphorically put a middle finger in the air while doing so. Love isn't neglectful and self-serving. And yet, that was what I experienced with love. But... somehow, despite all of the loss and pain, I've discovered my worth. Which is not normal in this kind of situation- I often read facebook posts in a divorce group of women who are shattered and left with no self-confidence. I have those days too, believe me. But mostly, I know I'm lovable and capable of loving too. I believe in true love, I know it exists, and I know my life will be filled with it.
And that's where the gains begin. Despite the epic proportion of losses, there will be gains. They are already starting to happen, even as I continue to grieve all that has been taken from me in the past six months.
I've gained my independence. Yes, my apartment is small compared to my house, but it's MINE. I don't have to ask permission to go anywhere, or hang something on the walls. I decided how I wanted my bed frame to look and had a dear friend help me pick out the color and I didn't have to get approval from anyone. I can make whatever I want for dinner (well, at least on the weeks that my benevolent dictator isn't home lol) and can sit on the patio with a beer any night I want. That patio is filled with lots of succulents and I don't have to ask permission to add more. No one will tell me it doesn't look good.
I've gained back parts of me I lost. I had a momentary freakout recently when I worried that I've started changing myself since the divorce. I thought "wait, why am I suddenly listening to country music again?" then realized... I grew up with country music. I still had two stations on my presets in my car that were country stations... it's just that, over time, when "that awful music" would immediately get turned off in my car in favor of the music he preferred, I just stopped listening to it altogether. That's kind of sad. Ok, that's really sad. But now? I open my sunroof and crank some Kenny Chesney with the sun on my face. I also started spending time outdoors and camping. Another thing I grew up doing and had lost touch with because the main person in my life wasn't interested. I remember suggesting a local hike and being told no. I never asked again. But now? I've gotten in a lot of mileage on the local trails and seen some pretty amazing sights, while breathing in the fresh air and enjoying nature. Shoot, I spent the majority of my childhood outside. It's in my blood.
I guess the only thing I can't fully justify is my sudden need to turn my body into a tattoo canvas but whatevs. I always wanted them, just didn't have the motivation to take the plunge. And once you realize that having a needle dug into your back for three hours straight isn't so bad, it does kind of get addicting. Woops.
I've also gained a better idea of who I really am. I am spunky, sarcastic, energetic, quick-witted, and full of life. I hide my sadness and anger from the world as much as I can. I struggle to ask for help, and sometimes assume the worst of people. I take things too personally sometimes. I am driven and motivated. I am (pardon my french) really fucking strong and feisty. I will not go down without a fight. I will pour my heart and soul into those I love, and will sacrifice anything to make someone else happy. I love taking care of people. I am a damn good woman, but I am not perfect.
And while I've lost some people I love, I've also gained a better appreciation of the people who stayed. And gained a better perspective on how amazing those people are. I cannot even count how many people have said "if you need anything at all, please let me know." And meant it. People have offered me a bed to sleep on, a shoulder to cry on, alcohol to drown my sorrows, and there have been lots of ears that have just listened to me vent. I've had people drop everything to be by my side in my moments of despair, and practically demand that I let them help me. It has been a very eye-opening experience for me to see the magnitude of love that surrounds me. And my goal is to give every bit of it back, and then some.
This is just another chapter in my book. It's a really sad, depressing chapter, but it's my life and there's no turning back now. Divorce changes everything. It's going to be quite a while before the dust completely settles, and this week was certainly a clear indicator that things will continue to pop up and cut me back down temporarily. But I'll keep getting up. Many people have told me that great things are in my future- I'm being prepared for them. And this struggle will make me appreciate them even more, whatever they may be. But I know that I will be fine. Not every second of every day. I will have more struggles. But as I've always said, I will not just roll over and wait to die.
"When you get where you're going, don't forget to turn back around and help the next one in line. Always stay humble and kind."
Tonight, I sit on my couch in my little apartment/villa/condo thing while my little cub is wiggling around in bed trying to fall asleep. Today was a work holiday, so I took the cub to daycare, came home and went for a rainy run, had a cup of coffee and a bowl of cereal, took a shower, went shopping, and came home and napped. Then picked up my mini-me, and did our nightly routine of dinner/bath/bedtime, with a nuclear meltdown temper tantrum sandwiched in between, and now I'm here. And I'm okay.
But some days I don't feel okay at all, and it's to be expected. I debated for a long time about whether or not I'd write a blog post about my divorce because this blog was intended to be about my darling little ray of sunshine who came into this world a little too soon. But this divorce is a pivotal point in her young little life, and this blog has reached far more people than I ever thought it would. And if anything in it could give some encouragement or hope to even one person, then it's worth baring my soul on the interwebs. *cracks knuckles* and away we go...
I didn't sign up for marriage with the intention of it ending. I admit- I'm easily disenchanted and I still, to this day, cannot finish an entire box of cereal on my own because I grow tired of it by the time I'm about 75% of the way through with it (even Lucky Charms, THE HORROR). That's just how I am. I like things to be fresh and new... but not my relationships. I entered my marriage with the understanding that "till death do us part" and "for better or for worse" were not just empty words we recited in front of our family and friends. I meant it. I didn't put on a white dress and walk down the aisle arm-in-arm with my father, both of us beaming with joy, just to one day have him hug me in my new apartment and say "I know it's not what you're used to, but you'll do fine." It was a comforting hug and a brief pep talk from a father who knew his daugther was in a world of pain and knew there was nothing he could do about it. I didn't choose to have a child with someone under the assumption that one day I'd lose half of that child that I fought to have in the first place.
But that is my reality.
And that reality is a little harsh right now, and some days it stings quite badly. On the day of our last marriage counseling session, when my ex husband all-too-enthusiastically announced "we are getting a divorce", the counselor said to me (as I sobbed on her couch) "the cruel irony of your life is that you put your foot down and decided to stop enabling and the result is that he decided to work on becoming a better person, just for someone else." I'm usually a fan of irony, but not this time.
After that counseling appointment, the domino effect of grief and loss began. I wasn't desperately clinging to my marriage and begging him to stay... I knew I deserved better and was willing to wait for it, but.. horse, water, etc. Even still- it felt wrong. It's the one decision that can seem right, but feel so absolutely awful. There have been no happy dances or divorce celebrations over here. I've been consumed by grief and loss, but am moving forward. I've said and done things that I'm not proud of, and seen sides of myself that I didn't know existed (and they aren't pretty). I've said hurtful things to the man I once loved more than anything else on this planet, and I can't take those things back. I tend to have a great ability to filter the hell out of my mouth, but not over these past few months. Emotional pain has a tendency to bring out the worst in people, including myself. My own therapist (and the marriage counselor during a subsequent couple of sessions with her to help me wrap my brain around all of this) told me that it's textbook grief and loss and that I'm moving forward at a steady pace, but I still wish I was able to keep my head on a little more straight. And my crown too. I'll get there. I am just forever grateful for the people who have seen me at my worst lately and still choose to love me anyways, because they know it's not the real me. It's the hurt me.
But the biggest thing I've learned: divorce is just one big, nasty pile of loss.
I didn't just lose my husband. I lost my home that I worked so hard to get. Packing up my belongings, throwing away my wedding mementos and pictures of my once happy family, and divding up furniture and household goods was indescribably painful. I knew it would be, but I didn't realize the magnitude of that kind of pain until I was experiencing it. Day by day, my once cozy and happy home was being dismantled and packed into boxes until it was restored to the same empty state as the day we moved in. I'll never forget the last time I went to that house... I remembered the day we moved in and how excited I was to fill it with my furniture and decorate the walls. I was brimming with joy and couldn't wait to settle in and make it my own happy home. And there I was that night, sobbing as I walked through each and every room in that house remembering the good times and the bad times. The room where my daughter took her first steps. The room where she said her first words. It's where we shared family dinners and made lots of memories. But it was also where I sobbed as I looked into the eyes of the person who had betrayed me and my trust. It was where I sat in disbelief after hearing that my surgery hadn't gotten all of my cancer cells out. It was where I said "I don't love you anymore," and where I heard the words "I need to set you free from me."
I lost people, too. People who I considered family, who suddenly disappeared. I want to ask "what did I do?" but I won't. I have to let them make that choice, even if it means I will forever miss people I love. I wish I could have the chance to explain it to them. Tell them how much they still mean to me. But I can't.
I lost an idea. The idea that my life would be lived happily-ever-after as an intact family under one roof. I lost the idea that I'd fall asleep with and wake up next to the same person until I was on my death bed. I lost the idea that I'd never experience heartbreak again. I lost the idea of family vacations, holidays, and family cuddles on the couch while watching a movie.
I lost half of my time with my child. This has been the biggest struggle for me in all of this- my very first blog posts were heavily underscored by complete desperation for my child to survive. I spent the better part of two years hoping and praying that I would have a child of my own... countless needle sticks, blood work, ultrasounds, pills, and a surgery all to have a chance at bringing a baby home from the hospital culminated in a four-week hospital stay and more hoping and praying about bringing that baby home. I finally brought her home- all 5 pounds of her- after another three weeks of hospital life. I spent another month or so watching her turn blue in my arms and being terrified that she wouldn't start breathing again. For almost three years of my life, I wasn't sure if I'd ever be able to throw a first birthday party for a child of my own. But I did... and now she's a sassy preschooler who is the center of my world... half of the time. It kills me. It absolutely kills me as a mother to go a single day without her in my arms and time is not making this part any easier for me. And it may not ever get easier for me, especially when the other half of her life is going to be spent with my replacement. It'll be a hard pill to swallow, for sure. I can only hope for the best case scenario for my child, despite how much it may hurt me.
I briefly lost my faith in love. Because love doesn't quit, and love doesn't hurt. Love doesn't walk away and metaphorically put a middle finger in the air while doing so. Love isn't neglectful and self-serving. And yet, that was what I experienced with love. But... somehow, despite all of the loss and pain, I've discovered my worth. Which is not normal in this kind of situation- I often read facebook posts in a divorce group of women who are shattered and left with no self-confidence. I have those days too, believe me. But mostly, I know I'm lovable and capable of loving too. I believe in true love, I know it exists, and I know my life will be filled with it.
And that's where the gains begin. Despite the epic proportion of losses, there will be gains. They are already starting to happen, even as I continue to grieve all that has been taken from me in the past six months.
I've gained my independence. Yes, my apartment is small compared to my house, but it's MINE. I don't have to ask permission to go anywhere, or hang something on the walls. I decided how I wanted my bed frame to look and had a dear friend help me pick out the color and I didn't have to get approval from anyone. I can make whatever I want for dinner (well, at least on the weeks that my benevolent dictator isn't home lol) and can sit on the patio with a beer any night I want. That patio is filled with lots of succulents and I don't have to ask permission to add more. No one will tell me it doesn't look good.
I've gained back parts of me I lost. I had a momentary freakout recently when I worried that I've started changing myself since the divorce. I thought "wait, why am I suddenly listening to country music again?" then realized... I grew up with country music. I still had two stations on my presets in my car that were country stations... it's just that, over time, when "that awful music" would immediately get turned off in my car in favor of the music he preferred, I just stopped listening to it altogether. That's kind of sad. Ok, that's really sad. But now? I open my sunroof and crank some Kenny Chesney with the sun on my face. I also started spending time outdoors and camping. Another thing I grew up doing and had lost touch with because the main person in my life wasn't interested. I remember suggesting a local hike and being told no. I never asked again. But now? I've gotten in a lot of mileage on the local trails and seen some pretty amazing sights, while breathing in the fresh air and enjoying nature. Shoot, I spent the majority of my childhood outside. It's in my blood.
I guess the only thing I can't fully justify is my sudden need to turn my body into a tattoo canvas but whatevs. I always wanted them, just didn't have the motivation to take the plunge. And once you realize that having a needle dug into your back for three hours straight isn't so bad, it does kind of get addicting. Woops.
I've also gained a better idea of who I really am. I am spunky, sarcastic, energetic, quick-witted, and full of life. I hide my sadness and anger from the world as much as I can. I struggle to ask for help, and sometimes assume the worst of people. I take things too personally sometimes. I am driven and motivated. I am (pardon my french) really fucking strong and feisty. I will not go down without a fight. I will pour my heart and soul into those I love, and will sacrifice anything to make someone else happy. I love taking care of people. I am a damn good woman, but I am not perfect.
And while I've lost some people I love, I've also gained a better appreciation of the people who stayed. And gained a better perspective on how amazing those people are. I cannot even count how many people have said "if you need anything at all, please let me know." And meant it. People have offered me a bed to sleep on, a shoulder to cry on, alcohol to drown my sorrows, and there have been lots of ears that have just listened to me vent. I've had people drop everything to be by my side in my moments of despair, and practically demand that I let them help me. It has been a very eye-opening experience for me to see the magnitude of love that surrounds me. And my goal is to give every bit of it back, and then some.
This is just another chapter in my book. It's a really sad, depressing chapter, but it's my life and there's no turning back now. Divorce changes everything. It's going to be quite a while before the dust completely settles, and this week was certainly a clear indicator that things will continue to pop up and cut me back down temporarily. But I'll keep getting up. Many people have told me that great things are in my future- I'm being prepared for them. And this struggle will make me appreciate them even more, whatever they may be. But I know that I will be fine. Not every second of every day. I will have more struggles. But as I've always said, I will not just roll over and wait to die.
"When you get where you're going, don't forget to turn back around and help the next one in line. Always stay humble and kind."
