In 2006, at the ripe old age of 25, I was amongst the first of my friends to walk down the aisle. Today, seven years later, I’m amongst the first to get divorced. It’s all kind of new. Like less than a month new.
It’s a case of two people, good people with good intentions, grown apart who couldn’t find their way back to each other. As amicable a split as there can be when hearts, dreams, and promises are broken.
Nothing I type even begins to do justice to the heartbreak of it all. But it’s words that bring me solace, so here I am.
What I know is that I have an incredible circle of friends. Listeners who are willing to envelope me in their care. They’ve lent their patient ear and stolen time from their lives to devote to me – on their lunch break, after bedtime, driving home, at all hours. I am ever grateful.
What I know is that well meaning friends and family, even strangers, have questions, lots of them. I know everything and nothing. That’s how we got here after all, isn’t it? And there is no right or wrong story. Just perspectives of the same truth. If I had better answers to the questions, I’d imagine this post unnecessary.
What I know is that what began as a promise between two people has morphed into the heartache of many. The purity of that promise is not diminished by it’s demise. I am certain it’s with the same values we took our vows that we venture forward into our divorce, honoring ourselves, what we believe, what we desire for our children.
What I know is the hurt creeps up on you. It all creeps up on you. It sucks but it’s deeply necessary. I welcome it. It’s the bridge to the next door.
What I know is that my two little women are resilient and brave. The wails once reserved for nonsensical tantrums are now very much rooted in loss/disappointment/heartbreak/confusion/fear/uncertainty…need and wanting. It’s this that pains me most. I’m grateful for all the work through the years put into making them little women with words for their emotions, tuned into matters of the heart. I take lessons from them in being where I am, feeling what I’m feeling as it comes. They know no other way and for this example, I couldn’t be more thankful.
What I know is that it takes a village to raise us all, to get us through. A wise lesson for a woman hard bent on asking for help, for reaching out.
What I know is that while Penny Lane had music, I have books. As evidenced by the photo at the top of the post. I’ve wiped our library clean of all books on divorce. They are useless and eye opening at the same time. They are reminders that this is an ongoing process, one that must unfold as it will.
What I know is that this is my new normal. I’m a single mom, co-parenting with a good man. I’m a mother on watch for the signals of needy hearts. I’m a woman who knows a whole lot and nothing at all.
This is my current chapter. I have to get all the way through it to get to the next one.
I’ve never found it so hard to write about something. It’s necessary for me to put words to life. And still this post seems all wrong and perfect. This is one area of life I’ve rarely written about but here I am and it feels right. I welcome your stories, your experiences, your wisdom. I’m learning, more than ever, that it takes a village for so much in life.