I’ve been through more divorces than I care to count: A couple of husbands, some friends, employers, myself a few times. You name ’em. And as I’ve been doing my own self-reflecting, I realized that though I wished I had strong, unbiased support throughout the process, where I really needed the help was coming to terms with the decision in the first place. I remember the internal struggle, the crowd-sourcing, the not trusting myself to know what’s right for me and mine. The embarrassment. The hope that things would get better. No, the fear masquerading as hope for something that just wasn’t reality. And I think about all the energy I wasted. And the time. Barf.
I remember struggling in my first marriage before we were even married: Couples counseling before the knot was tied. “Relationships are hard work,” I remember being told, and hanging onto that belief for far too long. That divorce brought with it a bankruptcy, a foreclosure, and a burn-it-all-down-&-start-over opportunity. So I did. I could say I made the same mistake again, but I don’t really believe that. In hindsight I can see I was meant to marry my second husband and have children with him because I was meant to be a mom. I believe in shit like that. Nevertheless, now more than ever I can see my repetitive patterns. Barf. Barf, barf.
I will say – I felt so fucked that second time. Do I really wanna end it? This one’s different – we’ve got KIDS! How am I gonna tell everybody? What kind of life are my girls gonna have? What kind of life am I gonna have? Spoiler Alert: We have a beautiful life.
You will too once you figure out what you wanna do.