I’m getting divorced.
That’s a fun sentence to type, and to say. It carries a weight to it, a faint bitterness that sits on the tongue after the words are out. I’m thirty-two, with three kids, and I’m separated. That’s not how it’s supposed to go. I’ve also come to realize it’s the look on other people’s faces, the slight pitying grimace they give then you tell them. I have news, this doesn’t make me a failure, it doesn’t make us failures. It makes us human.
I’ve considered starting this post multiple times over the last months, but it never seemed the right time. Then I began to wonder if it wasn’t the right time, or was I letting fear hold me back?
There have been too many instances where I find myself worrying about what other people think. I’m done with that. I went into 2018 with a set goal, I would put myself first. Raise myself from the pit I had fallen into, and improve my life. As the adage goes “You can’t pour from an empty cup.” That’s a quote I keep in my head. Because that was exactly what I was doing, and my kids? They were sucking up the dredges. That was all I had left. I no longer liked the person I was.
It’s a daunting thing, pledging to improve. To look at the dark, hidden recesses of your self and pull all those shadows out into the light. It’s a long and arduous process, and when you come to realizations that are almost too painful to bear, it’s tempting to shove them back where they came from and close the lid. The problem is, the things we try to hide have a way of crawling out, even when you to contain them.
Very quickly it became clear to me where a lot of the problems in my life lay. I will not point fingers or lay blame. It was never any one person’s fault. Sometimes, no matter how much we believe something is right, it isn’t.
I count myself lucky in a lot of ways. My marriage wasn’t abusive, or bad. It was just two decent people, who care about each other, trying to make something work that wasn’t meant to be. It could have been so much worse, and at the same time, it wasn’t right.
Coming to the decision was the hardest thing I’ve had to do, but when it was done, I felt an incredible sense of freedom. I took on an instant lightness, and I do not mean this to sound cruel or harsh. It wasn’t the impending freedom from him, the prospect of the pain I was going to cause was still crushing me, but it was the weight of a huge, life changing decision being lifted. I’d faced it and made a choice.