I hate being divorced. It’s so stupid. It’s stupid that all of these years later it is still there.
I love where I am right now. I love my husband. I love my life and my children and my home. I can even confidently say that I love myself. And none of those things would be without my past. But I still hate it.
I hate that it makes me cry out of nowhere. I hate that it makes me feel like all of the things that should feel permanent might just disappear one day.
I hate it more now that we have come all the way out the other side. Last week when we sat on the beach and exchanged pleasantries, I hated every minute. When I realized that more time had passed since I had seen him than ever before in the last 18 years, I hated it. When we spoke last week and I said “how was your day?” and he laughed and said “not good” I hated that my heart seized up in my chest because I am so ready for all of his days to be “all good.” He deserves that much.
I hate that I don’t know where he works exactly or what the inside of his home looks like because I used to know everything, even things I wish I didn’t know.
It was easier when I got to say that I was divorced but that he was still my best friend because he was the person that knew me best. He was the person that had known me the longest. But the truth is, the last six years have changed us both so much that unless we are talking about “the good old days” (which we both know weren’t really very good at all most days) it is like talking to someone I just met.
If it is possible to stand side by side with someone and feel like it all happened to other people how can you not fear that the now, the present that you love so much could all just go up in smoke?
To recap: I love right now, today. And I loved yesterday and I am certain that I will love tomorrow. And in spite of the Fear that creeps up in me sometimes, I refuse to feel Doubt. I will smile and hold on and be 100% certain that I will love my life decades from now.
MQD made a wind chime this weekend. We talked about getting rocking chairs for the front porch and I smiled and teared up. I gave him a pair of rocking chairs when we had not been dating very long at all and said something cheesy about how it would be nice to sit and rock in them together one day a very, very long time from now. That was years ago and that pair of old rocking chairs never made it to our new house.
Even though I am divorced and even though that first pair of old rocking chairs rotted beyond repair – I still believe. It won’t be easy. And we might have more than a few pairs of rocking chairs in our future because it’s true, nothing lasts forever. But dammit, I won’t let hating my divorce keep me from loving my marriage. Because that doesn’t make any damn sense at all.
To second chances, spring time, windchimes and rocking chairs. To divorce and marriage and Love and tears and starting over. Cheers!
Edited to add: It’s strange that I am grieving now of all times. It was easier when it hurt all of the time. I understood that. This part, the part when it is ancient history is a whole new kind of hurt. J, it was really good to see you. It made me happy. And seeing you happy made me happy. And then it made me sad. Ugh. Miss me? Ha! -K