The roots of divorce spread far and wide. A broken home is part of the collateral damage, and children are left with a deficit. Here are some practices to hold on to when hurt turns to lies.
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I don’t know why he doesn’t feel permission to emote when big things happen, but I know it’s my job as his parent to guide him to a healthy, safe place where he can sort it all out… and shaming him for having emotions won’t get the job done. I realized I needed to give him some tools to help get him out of the pit he was in. I was grasping at a way to gain access to this kid who I sometimes struggle to understand.
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It’s my birth month and it may have started a tad rough. I kind of felt like I was getting shoved out of my 30s — like an unwanted guest who had stayed too long. I hate to admit it, but somewhere along the way I bought into the lie that if I wasn’t married by 40 then it would be exponentially harder to find a mate. I was feeling like my value as a person was depreciating simply because I’m approaching 40 and I’m not married yet. Who decided being single in your 40s is the absolute most pathetic thing ever? I didn’t realize it, but I bought into this stigma, too! But not anymore.
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My heart is a deceptive, selfish little thing… especially when it’s hurting. My heart strings were being tugged and pulled to the point of becoming untethered and I felt like I was being cut off from someone I loved.
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I never thought I'd be standing in my house — holding fruit from my ex-husband's girlfriend — wondering if I should freeze it and fast-pitch it through the window of Jay's car or make some bomb lemonade from it. I had a strong urge to do one of those two activities and I can honestly say I wasn’t in the mood for lemonade.
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No one ever talks about what you’re supposed to do with the good memories you still have after being severely betrayed. My marriage wasn’t horrible. We had a lot of really great times together. The only thing tainting these memories is the sense of complete loss. It mostly happens when I’m driving — I’ll pass a place where Jay and I have been: a place I once had a fond memory of. Then it happens, I’m abruptly hit in the face with a singular thought: “Something I loved died here.”
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That's the problem with collecting... you soon run out of space and you're left holding weighty things you were never meant to hold onto in the first place.
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"It was time to put on the boxing gloves, but not for him. I had to fight for me. This wasn't a selfish battle, though. I was going to war with my feelings. I had a fight ahead of me and it was a brutal one.”
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Jay was undeniably familiar, and yet, he wouldn’t be familiar to me ever again. Which led to another question: Would I ever get to experience the comfort and familiarity of a man again? It’s strange to belong to someone for so long and then, suddenly, belong to no one.
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