It's been just over a year since that metaphorical house dropped out of the sky and landed squarely on top of me. It's already been over a year. Surprising to me, how quickly a year goes by...even a stressful one.
There were days when all I could do was survive.
There were moments when I wished I would vanish.
There were nights when I prayed I wouldn't see daylight.
There were little girls that needed their mother in a capacity that was overwhelming.
But then time happened and things changed. I started across the bridge, one foot in front of the other, and decided not to look back. And, the further across that bridge I walked, the happier I became.
The past year hasn't been easy, but it also hasn't been regrettable. As many hardships and trials were encompassed in 2012, there have also been moments of unparalleled happiness.
Happiness in making my life my own. Happiness in my independence and freedom. Happiness in raising my little girls the best way I know how. Happiness in rediscovering me. Happiness in new beginnings.
So, it's settled. The terms are settled and the dust is settling. While there used to be dust storms so huge they would cloud my vision and choke me for air; now, the dust kicks up around the tops of feet and it goes no further than that.
It's been far too long since I've used this space for the purpose it was created for. My space, which has been protectively sheltered by my attorney and is now only viewable to a limited audience.
As this divorce encroaches on almost every aspect of my life, it has not overcome it. In my quest to remain positive and find the beauty in the changes life has brought me, I'm finding me.
I had a conversation not long ago with a friend and she asked me a pointed question. She looked me straight in the eye and said "But were you really happy? Were you?" The question, so bold and forthright, I could not answer. What is happiness to me? Is it stability, contentment, routine? Do I know a happiness that out lies that? This clearly was not his version of happiness. My happiness was his boredom, or maybe I wasn't really happy. Maybe.
In the weeks that have followed since my last post, I've been doing my best to embrace this journey. I'm doing my best to remember the reasons that I am HERE on this road. I'm focusing on what I deserve. I am creating a new normal.
I no longer miss my husband. It's strange to write that; strange that after nearly 15 years together, and only 8 weeks apart, the heart begins to heal. I am past the point of chasing him, past the point of reminding him how badly he screwed up our lives, I'm past the point of wanting him to feel a hurt that parallels my own. I don't hurt like that for him any longer. He no longer has that power. My home is no longer empty without him. I no longer have to keep his closet door shut, hoping the pain would stay locked inside of it.
Life does move on.
Instead, I feel safe; safeguarding my heart and my children and keeping my lifelines close to my chest. I am realizing that when he left, he gave me back a piece of myself; the piece that was riddled with insecurities and doubt; the piece that couldn't trust and couldn't love and was paralyzed in fear of the future. He shackled me with chains of self-loathing, and despair, and inadequacy, tearing me down at every turn.
When the door closed behind him, those chains were broken.
I am none of those things.
I used to worry that I would be too battered, too broken and wounded to ever move on. I worried that there would be emotional scars, and trauma, and walls that would need to be torn down. But, I don't think that will be the case. I think what's here...what's left...what is being rebuilt, is far better already than what was there before. My wounds are healing, with time my heart will be whole.
And that's where the small glimpse of beauty lies in this process.
The stay because it is easier. They stay because it is less painful. They stay because it's safe. They stay because they value the memories, the history, the dream, the financial security, or their family values, more than they value themselves.
That was me 3 weeks ago. Staying. Trying. Sacrificing. I thought that was hard. Daily, I had to struggle with my morals and the example I was setting for my children. I would constantly weigh what I had vs. what I deserve. I exhausted myself trying to be everything to a man who didn't value me or respect me. I endlessly tried to make him happy, when really, he will never be happy. He won't be happy with me, or with HER. He won't be happy until he gets happy with himself, and that's going to take a lot of work and time.
I thought all of that was hard.
No.
This is hard. Divorce is hard. It brings out the worst in people. It's hard to take the high road. It's hard to "be the bigger person." Nothing about this is easy.
He wants to argue over finances and money. I want to argue over hurt and pain and shattered dreams. I want an apology that covers more ground than "I fucked up" and "I made bad choices." I want to know that SHE is worth sacrificing 15 years, 2 girls' futures, and everything we worked for. And, he can't tell me that, because he knows it's not. Nothing is worth this mess....not a million dollars, or a girl in spandex. Nothing.
We spew hatred back and forth like wildfire. What a thin line it is between love and hate...and then one of us extends the olive branch and all is fine, for a moment, until something else reignites the fury. The gap used to be a crack...now it is a crater; the distance between our hearts is large and vast. This. is. hard. How did we get here? This is really the road to happiness? Whose?
There are days where I feel good. I feel like a weight has been lifted. I feel at peace with where I am, and who I am. And more importantly, what I stand for matches up with how I live my life. I no longer have to care about what is going on behind my back. I no longer have to snoop and spy and look for evidence. The only people I need to care about now are the people who truly love me. I can now find joy in going to a 3 year old's birthday party and not worry that he is wishing he were somewhere else. I can live in the moment with my girls and give them 100% of me. I no longer have to divide my time between saving my marriage and paying attention to my kids.
And there are nights like last night...at 10 pm there were 3 girls crying atop my king size bed. Crying because change is hard. Crying for what is lost and different. There were sniffles, and tissues, and then good night kisses. There were 3 heads all lined up on the pillows....three bodies, all touching, all needing comfort and security. 3 people just trying to make it through the night. 3 people clinging to each other because we are all we have.
And then there are days like today...I woke up to Chloe's puffy cheeks on my pillow and I actually thought for a moment that I am the most blessed woman in the world, because I get to wake up to my kids; little girls who ran in and out of the bathroom, giggling, while I flicked water on them from my shower. There is still joy in life.
And then we piled in the car and headed out on our 1 hour commute. And, I had to tell the camp counselor about our issues at home. "Camdyn's daddy is no longer living with us. We've been a little bit of an emotional wreck. Camdyn still needs to follow the rules like everyone else, she just might need a hug or some emotional support after being reprimanded." Her response, "I'm so sorry. I was wondering what was going on with her. Thanks for letting us know." Somehow I choked out that entire explanation without crying. Somehow.
This is the Aftermath of an affair. Devastation that far exceeds the "jollies" of two selfish individuals. There are no winners. There are consequences. There are tears...but there is also hope.
There is hope and a new dream, in the light of the aftermath.
I lay awake in my bed on Thursday night, the clock says 3:38 am, this post tumbling around in my head like wet towels in a dryer. I have words that must be said. I have a story that must be told. This is my therapy, it's cheap, it's cathartic.
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
It's broken.
Irretrievably broken.
And that's what the papers will say.
It's been six months since my world fell apart. The rug of routine, stability, and contentment, swept right out from underneath me. In those six months I've spent hours looking in the mirror, reflecting on what my role was in this marital apocalypse and then I spent months making changes.
Changing me for the better. Changing me for the happier, but all the while something was amiss. I felt it in my heart, like a piece of apple skin stuck between your teeth, I just couldn't quite get at it.
I gave it my everything. I forgave him the 7th commandment. I opened my heart, swallowed my dignity, set aside my self-esteem, self-worth, and my own needs, all the while staying true to who I am and what I believe in. My values never change. And I tried. I fought. I loved him through it. And I was mostly successful at finding my smile on a daily basis.
The trick, friends, is not to put your key to happiness in someone Else's pocket.
There have been many dark hours for me over the last six months and there may be more to come.
But, HE is with me. He will hold my hand through the ups and downs and challenges that await me. I am ready for that. HE wraps his arms around me and covers me with grace and mercy. This is my story and my journey and I'm not going to spend one more minute digging my heels in the sand against it. I have accepted it.
This morning my left ring finger is empty. It feels odd. Naked.
But, on my right ring finger, there sits a ring. Sterling & turquoise and passed down to me by my Momma. It was a ring my father bought her back in their glory days. It has a history and is part of their story...but to me, it represents the strength of a single mom. Those years were hard on her I'm sure, but those years were happy. I had a great childhood and my children will too.
