Well…it’s taken me a while, but I’m finally ready to put out my “official public statement…”
I know many of you have heard, and many haven’t, which is kind of crazy since it’s been all over the news and tabloids (insert sarcasm)…But, yes…After, 15 years of marriage I am getting divorced.
I’m not going to sugar-coat things. It hasn’t been a “walk in the park” these past eight months. Ok, it hasn’t been a “bowl of cherries” for the past two years either. Alright, I might go as far to say the past decade has been anything but “rainbows and unicorns.” (How many metaphors do you think I can fit into this post?)
However, I have managed to keep my sense of humor through it all. When they say, “laughter is the best medicine,” they speak the truth. Because if I weren’t able to find the funny in most things, I’d probably be sitting in a padded room unconsciously wiping drool off my face.
And, unlike Gwyneth and Chris, a “conscious uncoupling” would not exactly be how I would describe this dissolution. Let’s just say, you won’t find me and the X casually sitting on a beach in the Bahamas over Christmas Break with the kiddies.
But, let me make this perfectly clear…I have no hate or anger toward the X. I really don’t. How that’s possible, I’m not exactly sure, but if I did hate him, things would have been a lot easier. (I’ll get into what “easier” means in another post. There’s just too much to cover right now.)
In the beginning, my emotions hovered around sadness mostly. Okay…there was some anger. Even some moments of apoplectic fits. (I’m not going to lie to you.) Mostly, I was just sad. Despondent. Hurt. Incredibly hurt. And, generally not ok.
And, by not ok, I mean opening the refrigerator to see that I only had one Fresca left and crying. Or, there was the time I was in bed watching a Spanish soap opera when I hear Jake say, “Mom? Mommy? What are you doing?”
“I’m watching TV. What does it look like I’m doing?”
“Yeah, but you’re watching a Spanish show…” Jake tells me this, like I don’t know.
“So…What’s the problem?”
Jake looks at me like I’ve gone mad, throws his little hands up in the air, and yells to the ceiling, “You don’t speak Spanish.”
Needless to say, my family and friends went through those moments of incredible worry and concern. (I have to say…my friends have been beyond amazing. AMAZING. Actually, people in general, have been amazing. I have been so touched and blown away by the love and support that I have received and felt. I just had to put that out there. More on this in another post.)
But, I’m happy to say…I’ve gone through my process. I’ve been through the five steps of grief. And, I’m good. Like, really good.
And, even when I was crying at red lights, it wasn’t because I was devastated about the loss of the X, himself. No. Because, now, I can finally breathe. My shrink is convinced that if I stayed with the X, I could have, G-d forbid, gotten some really terrible illness. Stress is a killer. And, the X was toxic for me. Like poison toxic. Like he should come with a big skull and cross bones and a warning label on his packaging. (Pun kind of intended.)
I was mourning the loss of my family. The loss of that last shread of youthful idealism. The loss of “happily ever after.” I was crying for my kids. I was crying for what I always thought was our “love-story.” I was crying for my 10 yr old self, my 16 yr old self, my 25 yr old self, my 35 yr old self, and for myself today.
It’s always hard to face reality, especially when it has to do with feelings of rejection. And, the reality was, that the X didn’t love me. When someone loves you, they don’t do the things the X did, and they certainly don’t end things the way the X ended things…let’s just say, unbeknownst to me, he signed the papers on May 8th and then filed behind my back, on May 11th, the day after Mother’s Day, and leave it at that.
However, I choose to look at this as a gift. The X gave me a Mother’s Day gift. Because, for two years I just couldn’t pull the trigger. I was hoping and praying that he would give me a reason not to divorce him. It’s not like I married him thinking, “One day…you just wait…I’m going to divorce your ass.” No one gets married thinking that. At least, I hope they don’t.
But, being alone in a marriage is far worse than actually living alone, and, a hell of a lot more lonely. Quite honestly, it’s one of the worst feelings. It’s right up there with having no trust in your marriage. And, who wants to live like that?
So, even though the divorce process sucks (really sucks), I know the boys and I are going to be better, stronger, and massive amounts of happier in the end.
Now, that’s a gift. A real gift.