My story had lost its fairy tale vibe. Had the magic and whimsy been replaced with darkness and monsters? Had the footpaths and sunshine been replaced with broken bridges and dark fog?
The even scarier realization was that this was not a story. This was my life. I came to two sad realizations. First, the magic seemed to have left my world. Or, at the very least, it went on a vacation to the beach, leaving me in the wake of its pixie dust. Second, a lot of people don’t really want to hear the truth. They don’t really want to know it, because the truth can sometimes be very scary and uncomfortable…painful, even.
Over the past 18 months, I have been going through a very difficult process… Divorce. Accepting the truth about divorce is a tough road. It’s extremely hard on the two spouses who are trying to cope with the divorce, and, it’s seemingly just as hard for those close to them. In my own experience (and observing others), often, one spouse has a more difficult time accepting the truth and reality of the situation than the other. There is a period of denial, of unacceptance and unwillingness to see certain things. To make this extremely emotional time even worse, many around you grapple with the same issues of acceptance.
Although your family and friends may say they want to hear what’s going on, they really don’t.
They get quiet. They get defensive. They try to tell you how to fix things. They give you warnings and voice their concerns about your choices and your children. Why is that? Is it because they want to help? Is it because they suddenly feel they know your situation better than you? Is it because it brings up painful realities in their own lives? Is it because they don’t want to believe that their friend, sister, brother, daughter or son is hurting so much, and they never knew? Is it because they feel jilted or hurt that they didn’t know sooner? Is it something else?
I don’t know. Maybe it’s none of those things. Maybe it’s all of those things.
All I know was how I felt. And, how I felt… was horrible.
Divorce. It’s a common word and a common occurrence in today’s world. But, a not-so-common thing to experience if you are the one experiencing it. One word to describe it?
Alone.
I felt very alone. Want one more word? Heartbroken… in the most real, honest, possible sense of the word; tear-stained, heart-hurting, gut-wrenching, fall-to-the-floor-Heartbroken.
To top off the feeling of discord that echoes throughout every aspect of your life, friends who have been your friends forever, who you used to see on a regular basis, suddenly fade away. Why? Do they feel uncomfortable? Do they not know what to say? Are they just busier with other married friends with whom they have more in common? Divorce isn’t the end of the world, not by any means. There are far worse tragedies that people cope with. Far, far worse tragedies. But for me? At this point in my life? It ranked pretty awful on my list of worst days ever.
I can tell you the three of the seven worst days of my 42 years of life.
1. My grandpa dying.
2. Telling my spouse that I wanted a divorce.
3. Telling our children that we were getting a divorce.
Nothing… NOTHING, can compare to the fear and the sadness of those moments. I cannot describe the horrific, sorrowful ache that I felt when my then-husband and I sat on our bed with our three children and told them that we were separating. We all cried for two hours; holding each other, talking, sobbing and trying to help them understand. Our children begged us… they pleaded with God and they cried for us to stay together.
I held my son (who was 9 years old at the time), cradled in my arms like an infant, after he crawled into my lap and cried as hard and as long as I have ever heard him do. I couldn’t choke back the tears as my other daughter fell to the floor, sobbing, begging God to not let this happen. She tried to make a deal with us: her good behavior in exchange for us staying together. And then, another piece of my heart broke yet again, as I watched my oldest daughter sit with her head buried in her knees, curled up in a ball, as she quietly wept. She had no words.
Neither did I.
My heart broke into so many pieces that day…I cannot begin to describe the hurt. Some of those pieces will probably always stay broken, leaving empty spaces.
Once the decision was made and everyone was told, I remember feeling some relief. But, also, feeling scared to death. The entire process was scary; horrifying, really. Nothing about it was easy. Divorce is a process. At least, for many people it is. I was married for 17 years and “with” my former husband for 21 years. It’s not something I walked away from lightly, or without remorse. Divorce is like a death. You mourn. You mourn the loss of what was. You mourn the loss of what will never be. You mourn what you never had, and what you wished for. It is not easy. It is not cowardly. It is not giving up. It is and was, the hardest and yet, the bravest thing I have ever had to do. Even my former husband said to me, “It took a lot of courage for you to do what you did.” To me, that was a huge validation of where our lives had ended up, and I knew it was the right decision for us.
During the divorce, we had to live together for several months. All the while, boxes were being packed, kids were going to school, family functions carried on. Life …went on. I tried to just get through it; to live each day. Sure, things annoyed me, as I’m sure it did him. We both bit our tongues. We put up a wall around ourselves, keeping anger, resentment, and anything else, safely hidden and held back. We both tried hard to exist within the same home, even though we would soon be living separate lives. It was a pressure-cooker.
Then came the day when I moved out. Some friends helped. My former husband helped. For all practical purposes, we got along better since the stress of trying to make things work – to make our marriage happy – was gone. We could go back to being just friends again. I moved into my new house, and the kids came with me that first week. After the last trip to unload boxes was made and I drove my former spouse back to our “old” home, I hugged him goodbye… and I cried. I sobbed, actually. We both did. We stood in the kitchen, embraced in a hug, and, it was as if the careful wall we had both held in place for so long, suddenly fell to the ground as we sobbed on each others shoulders. After a few moments, I pulled away and hurried out the door, feeling raw.
I drove away, with tears running down my face…for everything that was lost; everything that would never be; and everything that was now different. Although it had been a long-time coming, my life was suddenly very, very strange. For the last 20 years, the way I had lived, who I loved, and where I thought my future was going, was all gone in that moment. It was now just a memory, with so many broken pieces scattered across the path of life that I was walking. Even though I knew it was coming, and even welcomed the change, it was like my world dissipated into a fog, leaving me wandering.
I didn’t want to be alone that first night. Even though my kids were there with me and excited about staying in their new rooms, I realized right then and there that if I had stay in that house as the only “grown-up,” alone, I would lose it. Thankfully, like angels sent from above, three of my friends came over. Arriving in pajamas, they brought wine, movies, a housewarming gift, and hugs… and, it meant to the world to me. Their love, support and friendship filled up some of the emptiness of the broken cracks inside of me. They saved my life that night. They might have not have known it until now, but they did.
Very soon after, everyone seemed to want me to “get out there.” As the reality of your situation sinks in with your friends, and you feel, quite frankly, like hiding in a dark room and moping around for a while, the only advice that seems to be given is: “You need to get out;” “You need to meet people.” I hated it. I hated hearing it. I didn’t want to hear it. I was lost, unbalanced, and torn. In one respect, I was happier. I knew I made the right decision. This heart-wrenching, family-destroying, soul-crushing, mind-bending decision that I had made… was right. But, I wasn’t ready to “get out there.” I was just wandering through this sad fog that used to be my world. I felt guilty for my children. I didn’t want them to hurt or be sad; those broken pieces of my heart still left me full of sorrow. I wasn’t ready to have any kind of relationship.
But eventually…
I became ready. I became comfortable in my new house, with my new situation, and with my kids’ new schedule, and, I was ready to start meeting people. No, I don’t mean through one-night stands or dating sites. Although, to each his own. Everyone has to move through this world in their own way and at their own pace, making their own choices. For me, I just wanted to get out there and talk to people, experience new relationships and expand the world that I once knew. I was finally ready to start crossing some new bridges.
I am finally in a place of peace that I haven’ t felt for a very, very long time. Sure, there are things, feelings and emotions I still crave to feel. But, I am happier, calmer and in a state of better balance, now that we are separate.
After getting through this long, grueling process that is “divorce,” I am (almost) ready to take on the world. And, let the world impress me and take me by surprise. The broken pieces of my heart will very likely always remain broken. But, I hope, in time, those holes will be filled in with new joy, new happiness and new love. It’s time to begin again, and beginnings can carry some wonderful, happy fun.
Life is too short to dwell in the fall-to-the-floor heartbroken state of being. Life is meant to be lived. It is a gift we are given, and everyone’s path is filled with twists, turns and broken bridges. We all have broken pieces that we carry with us. We all have empty spaces and cracks made from choices and tragedies we've experienced. But, when you feel you can't continue to walk, or even stand, that is when you must crawl across the broken bridges and continue to move forward. Perhaps some of my broken pieces that I carry may fit into someone else's empty spaces, and, perhaps some of theirs may fill in some of mine.
There is magic in every story, and, although I’m often terrified of what may happen next in this unknown, new world of broken bridges and hidden pathways, I’m excited to turn the page. It’s time to crank up the whimsy, rainbows and unicorns. After all, I’m in charge of my happily ever after.
The even scarier realization was that this was not a story. This was my life. I came to two sad realizations. First, the magic seemed to have left my world. Or, at the very least, it went on a vacation to the beach, leaving me in the wake of its pixie dust. Second, a lot of people don’t really want to hear the truth. They don’t really want to know it, because the truth can sometimes be very scary and uncomfortable…painful, even.
Over the past 18 months, I have been going through a very difficult process… Divorce. Accepting the truth about divorce is a tough road. It’s extremely hard on the two spouses who are trying to cope with the divorce, and, it’s seemingly just as hard for those close to them. In my own experience (and observing others), often, one spouse has a more difficult time accepting the truth and reality of the situation than the other. There is a period of denial, of unacceptance and unwillingness to see certain things. To make this extremely emotional time even worse, many around you grapple with the same issues of acceptance.
Although your family and friends may say they want to hear what’s going on, they really don’t.
They get quiet. They get defensive. They try to tell you how to fix things. They give you warnings and voice their concerns about your choices and your children. Why is that? Is it because they want to help? Is it because they suddenly feel they know your situation better than you? Is it because it brings up painful realities in their own lives? Is it because they don’t want to believe that their friend, sister, brother, daughter or son is hurting so much, and they never knew? Is it because they feel jilted or hurt that they didn’t know sooner? Is it something else?
I don’t know. Maybe it’s none of those things. Maybe it’s all of those things.
All I know was how I felt. And, how I felt… was horrible.
Divorce. It’s a common word and a common occurrence in today’s world. But, a not-so-common thing to experience if you are the one experiencing it. One word to describe it?
Alone.
I felt very alone. Want one more word? Heartbroken… in the most real, honest, possible sense of the word; tear-stained, heart-hurting, gut-wrenching, fall-to-the-floor-Heartbroken.
To top off the feeling of discord that echoes throughout every aspect of your life, friends who have been your friends forever, who you used to see on a regular basis, suddenly fade away. Why? Do they feel uncomfortable? Do they not know what to say? Are they just busier with other married friends with whom they have more in common? Divorce isn’t the end of the world, not by any means. There are far worse tragedies that people cope with. Far, far worse tragedies. But for me? At this point in my life? It ranked pretty awful on my list of worst days ever.
I can tell you the three of the seven worst days of my 42 years of life.
1. My grandpa dying.
2. Telling my spouse that I wanted a divorce.
3. Telling our children that we were getting a divorce.
Nothing… NOTHING, can compare to the fear and the sadness of those moments. I cannot describe the horrific, sorrowful ache that I felt when my then-husband and I sat on our bed with our three children and told them that we were separating. We all cried for two hours; holding each other, talking, sobbing and trying to help them understand. Our children begged us… they pleaded with God and they cried for us to stay together.
I held my son (who was 9 years old at the time), cradled in my arms like an infant, after he crawled into my lap and cried as hard and as long as I have ever heard him do. I couldn’t choke back the tears as my other daughter fell to the floor, sobbing, begging God to not let this happen. She tried to make a deal with us: her good behavior in exchange for us staying together. And then, another piece of my heart broke yet again, as I watched my oldest daughter sit with her head buried in her knees, curled up in a ball, as she quietly wept. She had no words.
Neither did I.
My heart broke into so many pieces that day…I cannot begin to describe the hurt. Some of those pieces will probably always stay broken, leaving empty spaces.
Once the decision was made and everyone was told, I remember feeling some relief. But, also, feeling scared to death. The entire process was scary; horrifying, really. Nothing about it was easy. Divorce is a process. At least, for many people it is. I was married for 17 years and “with” my former husband for 21 years. It’s not something I walked away from lightly, or without remorse. Divorce is like a death. You mourn. You mourn the loss of what was. You mourn the loss of what will never be. You mourn what you never had, and what you wished for. It is not easy. It is not cowardly. It is not giving up. It is and was, the hardest and yet, the bravest thing I have ever had to do. Even my former husband said to me, “It took a lot of courage for you to do what you did.” To me, that was a huge validation of where our lives had ended up, and I knew it was the right decision for us.
During the divorce, we had to live together for several months. All the while, boxes were being packed, kids were going to school, family functions carried on. Life …went on. I tried to just get through it; to live each day. Sure, things annoyed me, as I’m sure it did him. We both bit our tongues. We put up a wall around ourselves, keeping anger, resentment, and anything else, safely hidden and held back. We both tried hard to exist within the same home, even though we would soon be living separate lives. It was a pressure-cooker.
Then came the day when I moved out. Some friends helped. My former husband helped. For all practical purposes, we got along better since the stress of trying to make things work – to make our marriage happy – was gone. We could go back to being just friends again. I moved into my new house, and the kids came with me that first week. After the last trip to unload boxes was made and I drove my former spouse back to our “old” home, I hugged him goodbye… and I cried. I sobbed, actually. We both did. We stood in the kitchen, embraced in a hug, and, it was as if the careful wall we had both held in place for so long, suddenly fell to the ground as we sobbed on each others shoulders. After a few moments, I pulled away and hurried out the door, feeling raw.
I drove away, with tears running down my face…for everything that was lost; everything that would never be; and everything that was now different. Although it had been a long-time coming, my life was suddenly very, very strange. For the last 20 years, the way I had lived, who I loved, and where I thought my future was going, was all gone in that moment. It was now just a memory, with so many broken pieces scattered across the path of life that I was walking. Even though I knew it was coming, and even welcomed the change, it was like my world dissipated into a fog, leaving me wandering.
I didn’t want to be alone that first night. Even though my kids were there with me and excited about staying in their new rooms, I realized right then and there that if I had stay in that house as the only “grown-up,” alone, I would lose it. Thankfully, like angels sent from above, three of my friends came over. Arriving in pajamas, they brought wine, movies, a housewarming gift, and hugs… and, it meant to the world to me. Their love, support and friendship filled up some of the emptiness of the broken cracks inside of me. They saved my life that night. They might have not have known it until now, but they did.
Very soon after, everyone seemed to want me to “get out there.” As the reality of your situation sinks in with your friends, and you feel, quite frankly, like hiding in a dark room and moping around for a while, the only advice that seems to be given is: “You need to get out;” “You need to meet people.” I hated it. I hated hearing it. I didn’t want to hear it. I was lost, unbalanced, and torn. In one respect, I was happier. I knew I made the right decision. This heart-wrenching, family-destroying, soul-crushing, mind-bending decision that I had made… was right. But, I wasn’t ready to “get out there.” I was just wandering through this sad fog that used to be my world. I felt guilty for my children. I didn’t want them to hurt or be sad; those broken pieces of my heart still left me full of sorrow. I wasn’t ready to have any kind of relationship.
But eventually…
I became ready. I became comfortable in my new house, with my new situation, and with my kids’ new schedule, and, I was ready to start meeting people. No, I don’t mean through one-night stands or dating sites. Although, to each his own. Everyone has to move through this world in their own way and at their own pace, making their own choices. For me, I just wanted to get out there and talk to people, experience new relationships and expand the world that I once knew. I was finally ready to start crossing some new bridges.
I am finally in a place of peace that I haven’ t felt for a very, very long time. Sure, there are things, feelings and emotions I still crave to feel. But, I am happier, calmer and in a state of better balance, now that we are separate.
After getting through this long, grueling process that is “divorce,” I am (almost) ready to take on the world. And, let the world impress me and take me by surprise. The broken pieces of my heart will very likely always remain broken. But, I hope, in time, those holes will be filled in with new joy, new happiness and new love. It’s time to begin again, and beginnings can carry some wonderful, happy fun.
Life is too short to dwell in the fall-to-the-floor heartbroken state of being. Life is meant to be lived. It is a gift we are given, and everyone’s path is filled with twists, turns and broken bridges. We all have broken pieces that we carry with us. We all have empty spaces and cracks made from choices and tragedies we've experienced. But, when you feel you can't continue to walk, or even stand, that is when you must crawl across the broken bridges and continue to move forward. Perhaps some of my broken pieces that I carry may fit into someone else's empty spaces, and, perhaps some of theirs may fill in some of mine.
There is magic in every story, and, although I’m often terrified of what may happen next in this unknown, new world of broken bridges and hidden pathways, I’m excited to turn the page. It’s time to crank up the whimsy, rainbows and unicorns. After all, I’m in charge of my happily ever after.
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