One Year Later
I moved my last post back to the draft folder. I was hesitant to publish it at all, even privately, and bare myself so completely as to the struggle of emotions.
Those of you who read and as usual, supported me, thank you. Your words mean so much and I feel each one of them as a warm embrace.
The sheer act of writing has brought about some form of catharsis. The emotions have shifted to something different, less intense and not quite as crushing.
Life and the act of living it never ceases to ebb and flow. The waters rush in and bring forth a wave of the unexpected and just as suddenly recede and take with them part of me.
***
I so rarely have time to write in this space now. I thought after the divorce, it would be the opposite.
Work has gotten busier.
Now only having Ava for half the time, I find myself tethered much less to the online world when I’m with her. It’s our time, and it’s precious time. I don’t want her to look back in 20 years and remember me as always on the computer or always checking my phone.
I took a chance and started doing something I enjoy – food blogging. I don’t know where it will lead, if anywhere. But I’m having fun doing it, most of the time, although it does seem to take up time that I used to spend here, writing.
I’ve been working on learning how to use the fancy camera I bought for myself a couple years ago. I would love to be able to take photographs that are frame-worthy, instead of “Oh, dear, I think we’ll just delete that one”.
They say that 40 is when a people really start to know themselves. I’ll be 39 in less than a month, and as I approach that number, I see that there is definitely some truth to that. I think it’s also an age in which we are more easily able to identify the disingenuous in others as well. I see things, and people so much more clearly now than before. Sometimes it comes as a great surprise to know that in which you have counted on was not in fact, what you ever thought it was. Or maybe you did, but you convinced yourself otherwise. It gets harder to lie to one’s self as you age, I think. It’s harder for you brain to play along.
I find I’m much better able to pick my battles. I find myself backing away from things more often, knowing I would be fighting a losing battle.
I rediscovered the pleasure of sleeping alone. At first it was strange, after sharing a bed for 12 years. But after the oddness wore off, I found how much I love it. I can stay up late watching tv in bed, or reading a book. I can toss and turn and not worry that I’ll wake anyone. I don’t have to worry that my body pillow and I are taking up too much room. There is no snoring to keep me awake.
Of course, I enjoy cuddling with Ava on our “sleepover nights”, which happen once a week. It’s nice to be able to reach out and have her hold on to my hand as she sleeps. I’ll savor that for as long as she will let me, for I know the day is coming when even a hug from me will seem “uncool”.
I enjoy a girls’ night out with a friend now and then. Something that I never used to do, but I find now to be immensely fun.
I got on a plane last year for the first time in several years. It was terrifying and thrilling and I can’t wait to do it again.
I discovered the kind of friends that all women should have: honest and steadfast. The kind that will tell you when you’re being a jackass, hold you up when you’re falling down, and find places to bury the bodies. The kind of friends that will be around in 50 years when we’re all hard of hearing and are yelling at each other over the breakfast table at I-Hop.
When you’re alone, especially after a life changing event, it’s almost impossible not to do a lot of navel gazing and introspection. I’m not perfect and a lot of my failures and flaws led me right to where I am today.
I’m getting better and discerning what truly makes me happy and what was just filler for when I wasn’t. Maybe that’s the secret of life.
The Things About Divorce Nobody Ever Tells You
Divorce is the biggest life changing event one can go through, other than death.
Nothing, not even the birth of your children comes close to the emotional upheaval this will bring upon you.
You think it’s just a one time, one event deal. It’s not.
It’s watching the life you shared with someone, lived as one, become two strangers. It’s like watching your life go in reverse, in a fun house mirror.
It’s daily reminders, little time bombs sitting in your dresser drawer, or even on your car radio or dvr, just waiting to go off in your face, to mock you and remind you that life as you knew it is over.
The person you used to discuss every decision with, down to what to have for dinner is suddenly moved into enemy territory. You watch every word you say. You might declare a truce or cease fire, but unless you’re very lucky, it will always be an uneasy one and the fact is that you are now on one side of the Berlin Wall and he’s on the other.
Those dreams you had for your future? The trips, family vacations, how you’d raise your kids, the bigger house you envisioned? In one small moment, those things are now relegated to the discarded dream pile. Now you will juggle custody and two households, with different rules and hope that you can be civil enough to sit down and talk about the big things for your kids, never mind the small ones.
One day someone kissed you and said I love you. The next day they told you they want a divorce. It shakes your trust. It shakes your faith in yourself.
Everyone around you will want to know why. Some will be subtle about it. Some will outright ask you. They will want to know for different reasons. Some people actually ask out of concern for you, some are just plain nosy, and others (and I think this is the most common) are feeling some insecurity in their own relationships and are looking for reassurance that this can’t happen to them.
It is not your job to answer any of these people unless you want to. It is not your job to placate their prying nature. It is not your job to bolster their confidence in their own marriages.
You will lose friends. I’m sorry to be blunt, but it’s the truth. Some of your married friends will look at you like you have the plague. They fear divorce is catching.
Yet others simply will not know what to say, so they say nothing at all. Then the silence becomes awkward and they walk away.
You’ll be bombarded with advice on what to do, when to do it and how to do it. You’ll be told “Oh, when *I* got divorced, it was this way.” Those statements, while well intentioned, seldom are helpful.
The first year will be the toughest year of your life. Every first event “after”. Holidays, parties, going to the movies, eating out alone, hearing party of one, instead of party of two, will be another small stab.
You’ll have good days. Days where you are at peace with where you are. At first those will be hard to find. Eventually you’ll find those days are the majority and you’ll look back and see how far you’ve come.
Write. Write daily, weekly, monthly, anything. Write down your fears, your hopes and your hurts. When having a bad day, look back a month or so and see how much progress you’ve made.
Enjoy the little things. Start sleeping in the middle of the bed. Buy new sheets, ones that you’ve always wanted. Stay up late, sleep late when you can. Read books you’ve missed out on. Take day trips when he has the kids. Paint a wall a crazy color. Watch a tv show that you missed because your ex didn’t like it. Eat cookies in bed. Take up a new hobby.
You WILL miss your kids when they’re gone. It’s ok to admit it. It’s ok to be sad and upset about it. It’s also, and this one is the most important. It’s also ok to be OK when they’re gone too. It is time for YOU. Make the most of it. Do things you can’t do with a toddler in tow.
People will start asking you about getting married again…or dating again…and alarmingly soon. There is no timetable for feeling like you’re ready. The best part of being single? Living life on your terms and no one else’s.
Divorce is life changing. It’s scary. It’s hard. It will cause panic and sleepless nights. There will be millions of tears cried into pillows and on the shoulders of friends.
No doubt about it. Your life will change. Some of it good, a lot of it bad. But it is life changing…not life ending.
At the other end of this rollercoaster you are on is a better life. A happy life. It’s not the one you thought you’d have. But it is but one chapter in the book. And the book isn’t finished.
Highs and Lows
When you squealed with delight and yelled “Sprinkles” there was no one’s hand to squeeze.
When you sang the ABC song all the way through correctly, there was no one with whom to exchange that knowing look of bursting pride.
When you climbed into my bed all alone, without even needing a pillow to use as a stepladder there was no one to hold out a hand for me to high five.
When I watch you sleep, there are no arms holding me, sharing the same feelings of wonder and joy at this beautiful, amazing creature that we created.
There is no one to call to take over for bath time when I’m exhausted and my back hurts.
There is no one to ask to take over helping you through your morning routine so that I can take a shower uninterrupted.
There is no one backing me up when I have to put you in a time out.
I can’t make quick runs to anywhere, because there is no one else at home to watch you while I do so. You go where I go.
When you squealed with delight at sprinkles I alone made that possible for you.
When you sang the ABC song, I got a private concert that was meant for my ears only.
When you climbed into my bed, I didn’t have to share your snuggles with anyone else. They were delightfully all mine.
When I watch you sleep, curled up in my arms, I drink in every moment of it, so glad that I get to hold you sometimes while you are sleeping.
I never miss an opportunity to make a funny face or tickle your armpits in the bathtub.
I get to make your breakfast each morning, and know that I am giving you a healthy start to your day.
No one is questioning my decision in why you needed that time out.
I have an amazing shopping buddy, who is awesome company. You go where I go.
Fridays are cyclical contradictions. Highs and lows. Last night I resisted the urge to run into your room and scoop you up in my arms. Instead I turned the volume on the baby monitor up a bit, and listened to your soft breath as it made your chest rise and fall, imagining in my mind that movement and your sweet face as you slept.
Terror. Loneliness. Joy. Fulfillment. Sadness. Emptiness. Gleeful anticipation. Contentment.
One constantly follows the other.
Up.
Down.
Highs.
Lows.
On Changes
There is a moment each morning when I awake, before my eyes open, that I don’t remember.
Then I peer out at my surroundings and through the fog my brain registers the difference.
The walls are different now, the bed seems taller, but it’s just that the ceiling is much closer than before.
My feet hit a cold, hardwood floor, instead of carpet. It’s a slightly longer walk to the bathroom.
There is quiet. Even in the early morning, when the sounds of soft toddler slumber are floating in the air over the monitor, there is so much quiet. Only soft call of a dove in a nearby tree or the random passing of a car on the street disturbs the quiet.
It’s all so new.
I wouldn’t go back to the old. Not for any amount of money or fame, or whatever it is people wish for when they see a shooting star.
My days are generally happy ones. Sometimes punctuated with some residual anger or worry, but on the whole, happy. My life is my own again. I get to enjoy my daughter without interruption when she’s with me. I have time to enjoy things that are important to me when she’s not.
I can, and do, give her all of me when she’s present. She has my undivided attention. When she’s away, I turn that attention to myself, doing the things that make me happy. Painting. Cooking. Photography. Reading.
Rediscovering who I am and what I want to be.
I fully enjoy having a place that is mine and not ours.
There is so much pain and heartache in the past, but the end of the road also brings choices of direction to travel. Instead of trying to race to the end of the next road, I’m slowing down and enjoying the scenery on the path that I currently reside.
These are moments to remember. Moments to reflect and grow. To put the mistakes of the past behind me, and focus on being a good mom and a good friend. And most of all, good to myself, in ways I never knew I needed to be before.
It’s a good life, this new one.
But just for that one moment, I don’t remember.
Home
A month ago, I couldn’t imagine calling anyplace other than the one I’d lived in for the last 9 years home. I loved everything (well, almost everything) about my old house. I loved the abundance of windows that allowed it to always be bright and cheerful, no matter the time of day. I loved the large bathtub with it’s massaging jets that were awesome after a hard day of work. I loved the tall ceilings which gave each room an open, airy feeling.
I loved Ava’s room, in all it’s bright cheery yellowness, even if it was a tad on the small side. I adored my bedroom. Large, open, comfortable. Walls painted a deep plum, they were soothing and calming to me.
There is something about this new house. It’s older, to be sure. And a bit smaller. One less bedroom. The ceilings are lower, and there are no funky plant shelves to decorate.
But it has built in cabinets in three rooms. Hardwood floors in both bedrooms, something I’ve always wanted. Storm doors with screens to allow for a nice summer breeze to blow through them. An enormous laundry room that allows for more than just laundry. There is a covered back patio, so no matter the weather, sitting outside is always an option (once I get patio furniture that is).
The expansive back yard has a large old maple tree that’s just begging for a swing. There are flower beds and a garden area. They need some tender care, weeding and cleaning. But soon they’ll be back to their former glory. The front yard boasts a lovely brick planter. It too needs some sprucing up, but I’m already imagining it full of trailing petunias and tall, regal geraniums.
This house is so different from the last, but it has a friendliness about it. It seems to welcome me in, saying, “Come on in and pull your feet up by the fire”. It has 60 years of personality and charm. It appears happy with the life that our little family has brought to it.
Over the coming months, I will be working to put my own touches on it, splashes of color here and there, to make it more my own. I’ve started already. Ava’s room, which is so much bigger than her old one, got a brand new coat of cheery yellow, so similar to her prior room. I felt having some form of continuity was important for her.
I was surprised at how quickly the image of this place popped into my head when I thought of home. And last Friday when my ex brought Ava back to my house, she ran in the door and hugged me and said “I’m home!”
Yes you are, baby. We both are.
How to lose 5 pounds in 3 days without really trying. Or How to end up with your belongings scattered to hell and gone.
So moving day was last Friday. It was supposed to be Saturday. SUPPOSED to be.
You’ll have to forgive me if this post is disjointed and ramble-y. My brain and my body have still not recovered from the last several days.
Thursday night, 10:30ish pm. The front door is rattled. My ex opens it up to find the buyer’s realtor getting the house key from the lock box on the front door. They exchanged some rather heated words. We set the alarm and the motion sensors, because, well now a stranger has keys to the house we are sleeping in.
Friday morning, 8am ish. I’m getting ready to leave for work, having just loaded my car with a ton of boxes and crap to take to my new house. A series of events began, the order of which I honestly don’t remember at this point, that included the buyer’s boyfriend showing up on our doorstep, a painter trying to get in to paint the house, a lawsuit threat by the buyers and a million phone calls to realtors that forced us into a frantic, 21 hour marathon of packing, sorting, hauling and unloading of every single possession we owned.
Had it all been going to one place, or had we been completely packed, it probably would not have been as horrendous as it was. But the fact was that some things were still unpacked, as I had plans to pack up the pantry items and freezer/food last minute on Friday. Plus, had we been able to move on Saturday as planned, we had two separate crews and two trucks to haul all of our things.
So there we were, with a house and garage full of stuff, two moving men that our realtor hired, one small U-Haul truck, and less than 24 hours to pack it all up and move it to three separate locations. My house, my ex’s storage unit, and his mother’s house, where he is going to be living temporarily.
In a word? It SUCKED.
There really aren’t words to adequately describe the chaos of the day. It literally was non stop. Nobody took a break to eat, or even drink all day. Finally around 11:30 pm I realized I hadn’t even been to the bathroom since 7 am. We had nobody to take Ava for the day, since it was all hands on deck. Still, amazing child that she is, took it all in stride pretty well. I was worried she’d panic at the sight of everything being loaded onto trucks. However the only time she showed concern was when her bed was loaded on to her uncle’s truck. Even that didn’t last too long.
We made multiple trips in cars, pickups and the U- haul from the old house to the new house. Each trip is around 45 miles round trip. We lost a ton of valuable time simply to travel between the houses.
There was no time to set up anything, we had to just unload as quickly as possible, and then go back to start the process all over again. I slept on a mattress on the floor the first two nights. Not the worst thing ever, but I am glad that my bed is up off the ground now.
8:30 Friday night I had to call it quits, and get Ava into bed. Luckily her bed was the one thing we DID manage to get set up at my new place, so she was good to go there. She had a hard time settling down. I knew she would, having gone the entire day without a nap or a structured meal time as she normally has.
As for me? I spent an extremely sleepless night. Sometime around 11 pm my ex and his parents dropped off another load of my and Ava’s stuff. But I knew there was still a ton of our things in the garage, and I fretted that time would simply run out and they would have to abandon it, or that my things would end up in my ex’s storage unit.
In the end, they were there until 5 am, and managed to get it all out of the house. They did have a load on the truck that had to be unloaded on Saturday, and of course I ended up with some of my ex’s things, and he with mine, but we’ll sort that out as we go along.
As for Ava, the first two nights were a little rough, but her grandpa installed a dimmer switch for the light in her bedroom and she now has her little pre lit Christmas tree in her bedroom at night. Yes, I know it’s May. I don’t care. She adores that tree and I’m not taking it from her, and I don’t give a shit how white trash that might make us. Anyway, the last two nights have been peaceful and she’s gone to bed without issue.
As for me? My body is still trying to recover. I’ve lost 5 pounds since Friday, and I’m still not eating much. My body seems to be rejecting too much food and frankly, that’s ok with me for now. I’m still tired. My body is also apparently really angry with me for losing a full night of sleep.
I hope to be unpacked completely sometime before the turn of the next century. All kidding aside, I have managed to get the kitchen completely done and we even hosted my ex FIL and step MIL for dinner on Sunday. It was a simple meal, but it was a lovely feeling to have them there and have a nice home cooked meal.
As for the buyers of my old house? They were the most unreasonable people I’ve ever met in my life. We had been told all along that we’d have 3 days once escrow closed to vacate. We were given one. And no notice that it was only going to be one. They were completely unwilling to work with us in any way, even refusing to rent the house back to us for a day so that we could move as planned.
I feel as though I should send apology notes to my old neighbors for the person we have inflicted upon them.
I do believe in karma. And when the karma bus hits this woman, I hope it backs up and smacks her a second time.
Backwards Forwards
Ava likes to play a little game with her Grandma. She runs forward then lurches backward. It’s a teaching moment, to learn what backwards and forward mean. It makes her smile and giggle in the process, which of course, is the best way to learn.
Every single day, people ask me how I am doing. Am I ok? Most days, I can honestly tell you, yes, I am. I am ok. Don’t get me wrong. I have moments, hours, sometimes, days where I falter. I get scared. I worry about the future. I have times when I wonder, maybe we should give it another shot, if only…
But there is no going backward. He does not want it, and in truth, neither do I. When I’m honest with myself, I see now how unhappy I was. How I was desperately searching for something to fill the emptiness I felt. I made some bad choices in how to fill that space. Choices I regret, and are in large part the reason I am at this fork in my road.
I’ve been told “I don’t know how you can act like nothing happened.” I”m not acting like nothing happened. What I am choosing to do is to move forward. Forward into a new life. Moving forward doesn’t mean that I don’t feel anything about what happened in the past. It doesn’t mean that I don’t care about any hurt I caused, or hurt I have.
Moving forward means I have to figure out what lessons to take away from it. I see where I went wrong, and more importantly, WHY. The why here is everything. Now I know how to recognize unhappiness in myself. I’ve been given the tools to see that, and so, with those tools, I move forward, knowing I am much better equipped emotionally to handle life and everything that comes along with it.
To stay, mired in sadness and loss…is going backward. To stay mired in that means I cannot make progress and be a better person. I don’t want to go back to the unhappy, lonely person I used to be. I want to live a life full of love and laughter. A life of good friends and family.
And so, I choose to move forward.
Impending – Pending
Some days it is a blank white canvas. It awaits colors and images. Fresh and new. Blank. It could be filled with people, love, laughter. New friends, old friends. The hope of new love. The hope of something better. It might be filled with bright flowers, a new home. One child becoming two.
Some days it is a black hole. Nothing is visible but darkness. No light creeps in from any corner. The road ahead invisible, blocked by a mountain of doubt and uncertainty.
I am a planner by nature. I don’t wait around to see what everyone else is doing and then figure out my own plans. I am a take charge, let’s get this done, person. Which is a difficult personality type to have when your life has been turned upside down.
I am stuck in neutral at the moment. Waiting. Waiting for this home to sell. Waiting for a date from the court to tell me this marriage is legally over. Forget practically. The expiration date on that has long since passed. Waiting on an agreement to find out which holidays I will get to enjoy with my sweet baby girl. Which ones I will spend alone.
Something I took for granted for so long: the simple joy of being with my child every day. No longer. Now her time will be split between between two homes. Two parents. Something that should be so easy for her – turning at once to both parents for security and love. She will have to do one at a time now.
She’s my baby. I carried her in my body for nine months. I was strapped to a table and cut open so that she could be born into this world. Born of my body. My flesh. My blood. The thought of going days without seeing her has ripped my heart to shreds.
Now I wait to see if we can agree on which days those will be. I wait to see if this house sells so I can choose our next home. I wait to see where my life travels next.
There are changes afoot. There are changes impending. But they are all pending something else.
And so. I wait.
New Normal
Last night I slept alone.
It was time.
Gone are the days of turning over at night, taking comfort in knowing there is someone there beside me. Someone who would hold and protect me. Someone with whom I could share my fear after a night mare, or to talk me down during a panic attack.
Truth be told that person hasn’t existed in a long time. We’ve just been two people sharing a bed. No true connection.
As much as I would like to turn back the clock, and have a do-over, I have to keep moving forward. If I allow myself to keep looking back, it will paralyze me. I can’t allow that to happen.
I spend my evenings alone, in quiet solitude. Sometimes with the television, sometimes with my iPod or Blackberry and Twitter to keep my company. Ava goes to bed early, leaving me with several hours to fill before it is my turn to fall into slumber. This is my new normal.
Mornings are spent in silence. Sitting beside someone who is at once familiar, and yet a stranger. No words are spoken, not even good byes. The new normal.
In the weeks and months to come, there are going to be so many more changes that will usher in the beginning of a new era. Papers will be filed. Our home will be going on the market. I will begin the process of finding somewhere new to live.
I am both terrified and oddly excited at the prospect. Terrified to be doing it alone. Nobody to help me make the hard decisions. Terrified at the thought of weekends and nights without my daughter. But excited to find a place that will be mine. Excited to build a home for her, and for me, that will be warm, inviting and safe.
I hate that we are about to turn her world upside down. Not just one new place, but two. The days of having both her parents under the same roof, giving her reassurance when she is anxious or frightened, gone. I don’t want her to have to come to terms with a new normal. Life as she knows it is all about to change.
God, don’t let us fuck it up.
Quicksand
Yesterday I lay on my bed, staring out the open window. Outside there is a plum tree and tiny little birds were zipping in and out of it’s branches, chirping. I wondered how many more times I would get to see their little show.
I spend a lot of time on this bed. It’s one thing that will remain mine after this messy division is complete. I am clinging hard to it. It is concrete in a world of quicksand. Crushing me as I sink deeper. One minute something is mine, the next I realize it is not.
The fridge I have taken for granted for almost 9 years. Will I soon be dependent on a small one, part of a new apartment? The wall of DVDs in the family room. Will any of those remain in my possession? The TV that I know is coming with me…what on earth am I going to set it on? Do I keep the curtains or let them go with the house? That freezer out in the garage…will I have to cram food into a tiny freezer above an even tinier fridge?
Eleven years of accumulating things. Things acquired as part of building a life. I was able to paint my walls. I love my walls. The colors were soothing to me. I used to love coming home. Now I dread it. I hate it. I feel as though I am simply living on borrowed time. And indeed, I am. Soon enough this house, this life that was lived within it’s walls will be nothing but a memory.
These may seem like silly things to think about. And indeed, in the bigger picture, they are. But they keep me from focusing on the harder things. The things that send me into a spiral of tears and lead me to the floor of the bathroom at work. The things that I know I will have to sort through, work on and get over.
Right now, I just want to lie on my bed and hope the quicksand doesn’t take me.
I write here
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