THE DIVORCE
So, I got a divorce.
Huh? What?
Yep. It's true.
We started dating my freshman year of college. Nothing too serious. Just having a little fun. Taking up a little time. Something to do on the weekends. When I graduated college in order to avoid the "what does it all mean?" spiral that was waiting for me, I decided to take it to the next level. We got a little more serious and moved away from our college town and tried hard to learn how to be a grown up in the "real world." We hit some bumps, but made it through. Got engaged and then married. Bought a house and a car and settled in. There were challenges, but at the end of the day, I knew the relationship was supporting me and it was comfortable.
In order to distract myself that the relationship really wasn't fulfilling me anymore, I dug in deeper and made big decisions. Moved to a big city and devoted myself to making it work. And, it did for a while. My friends and family started to have conversations with me about my happiness and reminding me of the things that were important to me just a decade ago. I brushed it off and continued to tell them and myself lies to make it through the days. Told myself that every relationship has ups and downs. Not every chapter is going to be a good one. That I'd be better and stronger for pushing through. I can't give up. Nope, not me. I don't fail. I don't quit.
Besides, where else would I go? I didn't want to start dating again. I didn't even know what to look for or where to go to start over. "You deserve better," they'd say, "You can do more." I'd nod and change the subject.
Until I started believing it. Until I got so tired of the same thing day in and day out. Until I noticed that I was clinging to things that were dissolving in my hands. Until all the passion was gone. Until there was nothing left.
I ran away on vacation to the beach to clear my head. Not knowing what would be left when I'd return. Knowing conversations had to be had. When I accepted the truth, it all became clear.
I came back and filed to divorce my job that I'd been with for 13 years. Roughly 40 percent of my life devoted to it. The only thing I really knew. The comfort. But then, the knots in my gut came loose and the weight on my chest lifted. I cried a lot. Happy and sad ones, some full of relief. It was like I was purging everything I had carried through my eyelids.
"Finally," pretty much everyone said. "I'm so happy and excited for you! What are you going to do now?"
Well, I didn't exactly know. I still don't. It's been a month since the paperwork was finalized. The day after I moved out, I woke up feeling like a new person. Feeling the weightlessness of hope and the freedom of starting over.
It has truly taken a month to decompress from a decade. To get to know myself again. I accepted a full-time job of taking care of myself mentally and physically. Some days it's hard to cut through the fog to see the future and others I roll out of bed before the sun comes up to take on the world. Feeling all of the high highs and the low lows that rock back and forth and hanging on tight. Neither direction is exactly easy, but I've never felt for a second I made the wrong decision and I know ultimately, I'm going somewhere new.
I'm putting myself back together. Finding my way back to some things (like this) and discovering new things. I'm trusting mysef more than anything. And appropriately answering "yes" and "no" decisively to all kinds of things I didn't have the energy and maybe the courage to before. I'm developing relationships with people and nurturing ones that had been neglected. Taking risks that are almost always rewarded. Leaping without looking. Going through mountains and deserts. Sleeping better. Laughing harder. Becoming more inspired.
I'm not bitter that I invested so much time and so much of myself into that relationship. I'm glad it happened. I'm a different person because of it. I learned more lessons than I could ever list. I grew up. I was supported. I didn't fail. I didn't give up. But, I did quit. I quit lying to myself (and everyone else) and hiding from myself (and everyone else).
So, I'm a divorcee now. But, more importantly, I'm open and I'm free and I'm ready.
Huh? What?
Yep. It's true.
We started dating my freshman year of college. Nothing too serious. Just having a little fun. Taking up a little time. Something to do on the weekends. When I graduated college in order to avoid the "what does it all mean?" spiral that was waiting for me, I decided to take it to the next level. We got a little more serious and moved away from our college town and tried hard to learn how to be a grown up in the "real world." We hit some bumps, but made it through. Got engaged and then married. Bought a house and a car and settled in. There were challenges, but at the end of the day, I knew the relationship was supporting me and it was comfortable.
In order to distract myself that the relationship really wasn't fulfilling me anymore, I dug in deeper and made big decisions. Moved to a big city and devoted myself to making it work. And, it did for a while. My friends and family started to have conversations with me about my happiness and reminding me of the things that were important to me just a decade ago. I brushed it off and continued to tell them and myself lies to make it through the days. Told myself that every relationship has ups and downs. Not every chapter is going to be a good one. That I'd be better and stronger for pushing through. I can't give up. Nope, not me. I don't fail. I don't quit.
Besides, where else would I go? I didn't want to start dating again. I didn't even know what to look for or where to go to start over. "You deserve better," they'd say, "You can do more." I'd nod and change the subject.
Until I started believing it. Until I got so tired of the same thing day in and day out. Until I noticed that I was clinging to things that were dissolving in my hands. Until all the passion was gone. Until there was nothing left.
I ran away on vacation to the beach to clear my head. Not knowing what would be left when I'd return. Knowing conversations had to be had. When I accepted the truth, it all became clear.
I came back and filed to divorce my job that I'd been with for 13 years. Roughly 40 percent of my life devoted to it. The only thing I really knew. The comfort. But then, the knots in my gut came loose and the weight on my chest lifted. I cried a lot. Happy and sad ones, some full of relief. It was like I was purging everything I had carried through my eyelids.
"Finally," pretty much everyone said. "I'm so happy and excited for you! What are you going to do now?"
Well, I didn't exactly know. I still don't. It's been a month since the paperwork was finalized. The day after I moved out, I woke up feeling like a new person. Feeling the weightlessness of hope and the freedom of starting over.
It has truly taken a month to decompress from a decade. To get to know myself again. I accepted a full-time job of taking care of myself mentally and physically. Some days it's hard to cut through the fog to see the future and others I roll out of bed before the sun comes up to take on the world. Feeling all of the high highs and the low lows that rock back and forth and hanging on tight. Neither direction is exactly easy, but I've never felt for a second I made the wrong decision and I know ultimately, I'm going somewhere new.
I'm putting myself back together. Finding my way back to some things (like this) and discovering new things. I'm trusting mysef more than anything. And appropriately answering "yes" and "no" decisively to all kinds of things I didn't have the energy and maybe the courage to before. I'm developing relationships with people and nurturing ones that had been neglected. Taking risks that are almost always rewarded. Leaping without looking. Going through mountains and deserts. Sleeping better. Laughing harder. Becoming more inspired.
I'm not bitter that I invested so much time and so much of myself into that relationship. I'm glad it happened. I'm a different person because of it. I learned more lessons than I could ever list. I grew up. I was supported. I didn't fail. I didn't give up. But, I did quit. I quit lying to myself (and everyone else) and hiding from myself (and everyone else).
So, I'm a divorcee now. But, more importantly, I'm open and I'm free and I'm ready.
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