Tag Archives: moving on

Nov9

Do we talk about divorce *too* much?

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Do we talk about divorce *too* much?

And by we, I mean society.

I’ve read so many articles about a certain celebrity who shall remain nameless (because I don’t honestly want to focus on *that* either!) and her quickie marriage and pending divorce, and several blogs on the same topic, but this one from Emma  at Divorced Before 30 struck me most, on Divorce Stats for People in their 20′s, about just how common divorce is at this age range, and well, all ages, really.

But my question is…so what? 

Why does it matter that divorce rates are high? (I realize I am going to get a lot of differing opinions on this one!!)

Why do so many automatically start judging?

Why does it feel like a black mark (or appear as one)?

And why does it feel like failure? The ultimate life failure, at that.

I guess since I have gone through it, I just don’t see it as a negative anymore. I don’t see it as failure (clearly!), I don’t judge (nor did I previously either). More than ever, I think divorce is almost a fact of life where many have been touched by it or affected by it. If they were not divorced, someone in their family is, or a friend, or a coworker.

Divorce happens. 

Move on.

As much as I believe in the sanctity of marriage (and yes, I can believe in it, even though I am divorced, I firmly believe) and as much as I want to be married again…to be a wife, to have a husband, I don’t think there is always ‘just one’ person for everyone out there. Clearly, this was not the case for me. There are plenty of examples where this is the case for some (I obviously have many friends and family that are married to who I believe, are their ‘just one’), but I just don’t think it’s that black and white anymore. I just feel so strongly about this and get so frustrated when I read headline after headline about divorce and they are always negative.

Why can’t there be a happy ending? There can…because there almost always is a happy ending after divorce.

I am living proof.

I know many that are reaching  (or reached) their happy ending (hello Shannon, Sunshine/CBG, T, Nicki, Sally, SingleishMom, Misty, Soccer Mom, Magnolia, Ronda, New Beginnings, Ms Brookie, and Emma, just to name a few!!) post-divorce. And that makes me so incredibly happy to see, because it takes bravery and courage to get through divorce. Divorce takes guts. Divorce is not failure. Divorce is, in some cases, a triumph. Divorce is, in some cases, the best decision ever made for you (*raising hand*). 

If we talk about divorce so much…I just wish it was portrayed more realistically. Like this. Celebrated for what you become on the other side, not trashed because maybe you made a bad decision, or maybe there are circumstances that nobody understands that led to divorce.

Divorce, at its simplest, yet most gut-wrenching form, means irretrievably broken. But it also means finding out what you are made of, and how to use it as an inflection point in your life towards the better.

The life you were meant to live. 

 

Oct21

5 Years and 6,000 Miles.

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5 Years and 6,000 Miles.

5 years ago and 6,000 miles away…I got married.

And today? Well, today, I am nowhere near where I thought I would be on this day, 5 years later. In truth, this date sort of snuck up on me (the date ‘sounded familiar’ and I wasn’t really sure why), and in truth, the ‘milestone’ itself is insignificant to me now, 5 years later. And let me tell you why.

Simply, it just isn’t.

One of my best friends (who is also divorced, but also now remarried and about to have a baby. Talk about full circle, right? Incredible.) told me early on (as she was sort of still fresh from her own divorce at the time): ‘those anniversaries, those milestones and memories…they fade with each year, until you no longer remember them or their significance.” And she was right.  Eventually, you don’t get a lump in your throat when you see the date appear on the calendar. Eventually, you don’t get the urge to text, email or call them on said anniversaries…to commiserate, or just to say hello. Eventually, you don’t see your life in that light anymore because you aren’t living a post-divorce life, you are just living life.

Eventually…you move on. 

But at the same time, I can’t help but use this date as a way to do a little retrospective on the then vs. the now. Because it is just such a different life. It is a blessed, full, happy life that I don’t quite think I’d ever have reached if I were still married to my ex-husband. I don’t know that I ever would have saw it that way either. Never mind ‘not seeing the forest from the trees,’ I wasn’t even seeing the trees in the forest.

Then…I loved immaturely. We were young when we fell in love, and quite honestly, that’s where our love stayed. The love we fostered at age 19 and 20.

Now…I love deeply, with my entire being. The love I feel for M starts from the tips of my toes all the way through to the strands in my hair. It is radiating.

Then…I followed. I reacted, but didn’t act. I smiled, but didn’t speak.

Now…I lead. I try new things, I take chances. I do things that scare me.

Then…I agreed. I went with the flow. I didn’t make waves.

Now…I confront when I need to. I speak my opinions. I question.

Then…I lived.

Now…I live an amplified life.

5 years and 6,000 miles…“I hope you never look back, but you never forget…I hope you always forgive, and you never regret ”

Sep11

The here and now.

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The here and now.

No, I will never forget 9-11-01.

I don’t think anyone will.

And while I will never forget and while I have read some beautiful posts reflecting back on the day that changed America, I wouldn’t do it justice to try and post one of my own on that topic.

But what I will reflect on is the day that changed me forever. Well, not even so much the day, but the journey that culminated in that day, two years ago.

The day of my divorce. 9-11-09.

It was a bittersweet day. I arrived with Pete, much to the puzzlement of both of our attorneys, and as we sat side by side at the courthouse, waiting for our turn with the judge, I felt like I was sitting there, watching a shell of myself. The shell of myself slowly starting to return, because, at that point, I just wanted to move forward, not sit in limbo of not-quite-married-not-quite-divorced. We sat there, chatting about our upcoming short sale, which was set to close about a month later, on 10-8-09, and then our names were called.

We stood at the podium. We answered the judges questions…the one question I will never forget? “Do you believe your marriage is irretrievably broken?”

“Yes.”

Without skipping a beat.

Out we walked. Didn’t really talk too much, other than to say, ‘wow, it’s really over, isn’t it?” He dropped me off at our house. I said goodbye, and walked inside. It was then that I broke down. I sat on the couch, and I cried. I don’t think I ever felt more alone, yet, in a small way, feeling ready to move forward. I looked around, and I couldn’t wait for the day to come where this would be just a faded memory of a lifetime past.

Today is that day.

Three days ago was the anniversary of the day I met the love of my life. The here and now.

That time? A faded memory. I will not forget. But it will not define me. I define me. This is my life.

Aug25

The last night.

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The last night.

**written last night, my last night living solo, before moving in with the man I was meant to meet**

I am trying to think back to my first night living solo after my ex-husband told me he wanted a divorce, almost three years ago now. Funny how the details feel so fuzzy that I can’t even remember the exact date. I just know it was around October 31, 2008.

I remember feeling alone. Scared. Really scared. Worried about my future, financially, emotionally, mentally. I wondered if my heart could handle the pain, the heartbreak, the physical feeling that someone was sitting on my chest, crushing my heart with every passing moment.

I remember learning to embrace living alone (once I moved into my first apartment by myself). Enjoying an evening where I don’t speak a word to anyone else for the entire night…except to my cats. (don’t laugh!) Enjoying a glass of wine while catching up on DVR. Or reading a book. Just being alone and enjoying it.

Fast forward to tonight?

I am embracing being alone this evening, finishing packing a few last minute things, getting my Food Network fix (though M automatically turns this channel on for me already when I visit his place, I guess my habits are evident!), enjoying that solo glass of wine and not speaking to a soul. Kitties by my side. Warm breeze through the window. Quiet. Calm. Happy.

But as much as I am enjoying this evening, embracing my last night living alone, I am practically jumping out of my skin excited to live with M. See him everyday. Touch him every day. Tell him face to face how much I love him. Make him lunch (yes, make him lunch), and make dinners together. Laugh. Embrace. Kiss. Re-learn what it’s like to co-habitate. (I know it won’t be all puppies and rainbows as we adjust to each others’ habits, but I am almost equally as excited at that prospect…a new growth phase for both of us).

It’s my last night living alone.

And I couldn’t be happier with what’s to come. To the next phase of this beautiful life I have created for myself. Cheers to that.

Jun29

Haunting.

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Haunting.

The picture.

The eyes.

The bedroom.

The date.

Haunting.

Going through my old Facebook albums tonight (since, oh, I dunno, do I really need one THOUSAND pictures on Facebook?!), I came across a picture. From about a week before my divorce began. And I stopped. Froze. Looking at that picture. That day. It was a friend’s wedding day…my best friend from kindergarten. I distinctly remember it. It was an off day. My ex husband was off. He was distant. We went to the wedding. He texted the entire time before the ceremony started. We didn’t even stay for the reception. It was a weird day.

In hindsight.

That day, I had no idea what I was in for, less than a week or so later.

Looking at my face, my smile, in that picture. It looked so innocent. But looking deep into my eyes, I want to cry for her…the me I was then, and warn her. No, I don’t want to warn her. I want to congratulate her on what she’s become today. But I can’t. Because she hasn’t gone through it yet.

She becomes a shell of herself.

She falters.

She fails.

She cries.

Until she cannot cry any more.

She seeks solace in friends, family, and ultimately, herself. And this community of beautiful people that have all struggled before. The thread that unites her – us – together. She moves on. She moves up. She moves into her own. She becomes…me. Today.

It’s haunting to see the me I was then. I have tears in my eyes and a lump in my throat. But soon, she will be gone.

Deleted.

Replaced by love. family, friends, and the most beautiful niece on the planet.

…who needs one thousand pictures on Facebook anyway?