Tag Archives: divorce

It’s over.

So, I got divorced yesterday. Wearing pajamas and sitting at my kitchen table. Just like that my marriage was over.

I slept until around 2pm, and when I got up I checked the mail. There it was…

“Final dissolution of marriage”

Surprisingly, I didn’t cry, I wasn’t even upset. I was simply sad, and relieved at the same time. Part of me wonders what my ex will do as he reads his letter…I have a feeling he will not be quite so calm…

After 14 months of separation, 11 months of divorce proceedings, it is finally over.

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My heart hurts…

My heart hurts tonight…don’t worry, my metaphorical one this time.

A friend was telling me today about his struggles with his young adult daughter, who has obviously become associated with “the wrong crowd” and has been making some really poor choices, almost definitely involving drugs.

All I could do was look at him and say “I know”. I could see the pain in his eyes, literally feel the hurt permeating the air around him, and I just wanted to cry for him…because I DO know. I know that hurt. I know it so well.

That hurt, the one that says…

“I just want to help you.

I’m trying.

I’m giving, and giving…and giving,

I’m loving.

All I get in return is lies, sneaking around, insults and threats.

What more do you want from me?

What am I doing wrong?”

As much as I wish I could, I know from experience that there is nothing I can really DO to help him. So I just listened, because I know how much I needed someone to listen when that was me. Then I told him the things that, while seemingly cliche and obvious, are what I know are the answers to the questions going through his head…

“You can’t fix this”

“This is NOT your fault”

“You didn’t do anything wrong”

So my heart aches tonight, because this time last year I was feeling every single one of those things about my husband…and I know how much it sucked, I can’t even begin to imagine how much harder it would be to have it be your child.

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The end of the end (Warning: Language…sorry)

Well, I have a hearing set for my divorce. It’s a month from now, and apparently I’m already freaking out just a teensy bit…

In a way I kind of can’t wait for it to be over; mostly just so people can stop saying crap like “oh I bet you’re excited!”, or “are you looking forward to it?”.

No, I’m not fucking excited. No, I’m not looking forward to it.

It’s the official, for-real, no-going-back-now, this-is-a-big-fucking-deal, end of my marriage.

Why the hell would I be excited for that?!

It’s not an exciting thing. It’s not a thing one looks forward to. It’s a thing that hurts like hell. It’s a very very sad thing.

It’s a necessary thing.

It means going back to my maiden name, a person that doesn’t even feel like me anymore. It means a whole new signature, new credit cards, and explaining to everyone and their mother why my name is suddenly different (doctor’s offices are the WORST about this).

Although on the plus side it also means no more thinking of him every time I have to spell his name out for someone, no more explaining to people why I have a Hispanic last name when I am most definitely not Hispanic, no more hearing “oh congratulations!” when I tell someone I haven’t seen in a while that I got married, and best of all, no more explaining to people why they don’t need to be congratulating me after all.

I am, however, very glad that my soon-to-be-ex has sworn angrily to not attend this hearing. I think it might break me to have him there; not for me, but because I couldn’t look at him without seeing how much this is killing him. I’ve seen it in his face every time we have to discuss the divorce, like a wounded puppy, and it breaks my heart and makes me cry every single time. I can see him, I can be friendly with him; just not that day, not there.

So, I lied, it might upset me a little bit too…I’m not really sure. As ok as I have been lately, and as much of a positive thing this divorce has turned out to be for me, it still sucks.

I loved him. I still love him. I hate that this happened to us. I miss him. I miss being us.

I don’t really know how I feel, but I can tell you that it is not excited. Sad, hurt, guilty, scared, anxious, and a teeny bit relieved maybe…but definitely not excited.

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Things that suck after divorce: part 1

I’m making this a part 1 because while I don’t have any more things for the list at the moment, I am certain I will find some sooner or later.

1. Bridal showers- I have one to go to tomorrow; and while I am very happy for my dear friend who is getting married, I can’t help but feel sad. I never got a bridal shower. I never got a real wedding. I never got the marriage I wanted either, for that matter.
2. Bridal shower shopping – I never got many gifts either, beyond a few bucks from family members who didn’t get the memo. I made a registry once, just for the fun of it, knowing I wouldn’t be needing it any time soon (That was depressing, and I was still married then). So as I shopped for a gift for my friend (yes, I majorly procrastinated, get over it) I found myself walking through the store noting things my ex would have liked, or things I liked that he would have hated.
3. Weddings – (self explanatory, right?). My friends is coming up, and while I promised her I would go…I’m secretly dreading it. I think may cry, and there will be a ton of other people (from my past) there that I do not want to talk to, let alone lose my shit in front of. 😦

I feel like I want to scream at her “don’t do it!” and “it won’t be like you think”. I’m so jaded, and I hate that.

I’m just sad.

Just when I think I’m getting better, something hits me and I am so overwhelmingly sad again.

Confession: sometimes late at night I put my wedding rings on and wear them for a little while.

I miss my husband (or at least who he was before the slide into darkness happened). I miss being married. I miss the weight of the rings on my finger. I miss coming home and him being there. I miss hanging out with him. I miss using the word “husband” when talking about him…I hate this term “ex”.

I saw him a couple of weeks ago; I offered to help him out with something. So we were sitting and waiting, and I mentioned my pacemaker surgery. He started off being mean with a below the belt comment about my “new boyfriend” holding my hand during surgery, to which I replied “I don’t have a new boyfriend, I don’t need one”. Then he teased me, just like he used to, about me just needing my mommy to take care of me. I said “oh I definitely need my mommy”, and he laughed and told me I’m adorable. Just like he used to.

I miss that.

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Akhilandeshvari- no my cat did not just walk across my keyboard

So I’ve had kind of a negative attitude lately (ok, a really negative attitude)…especially this week since it’s been kind of a rough one; well today I read this post on Elephant Journal, and I decided that I am going to try to change that.

 

Akhilandeshvari:

“Ishvari” in Sanskrit means “goddess” or “female power,” and the “Akhilanda” means essentially “never not broken.” In other words, The Always Broken Goddess. Sanskrit is a tricky and amazing language, and I love that the double negative here means that she is broken right down to her name.

But this isn’t the kind of broken that indicates weakness and terror.

It’s the kind of broken that tears apart all the stuff that gets us stuck in toxic routines, repeating the same relationships and habits over and over, rather than diving into the scary process of trying something new and unfathomable.

Akhilanda derives her power from being broken: in flux, pulling herself apart, living in different, constant selves at the same time, from never becoming a whole that has limitations.

 

This goddess has another interesting attribute, which is, of course, her ride: a crocodile.

Crocodiles are interesting in two ways: Firstly, Stoneberg explains that the crocodile represents our reptilian brain, which is where we feel fear. Secondly, the predatory power of a crocodile is not located in their huge jaws, but rather that they pluck their prey from the banks of the river, take it into the water, and spin it until it is disoriented. They whirl that prey like a dervish seeking God, they use the power of spin rather than brute force to feed themselves.

By riding on this spinning, predatory, fearsome creature, Akhilanda refuses to reject her fear, nor does she let it control her. She rides on it. She gets on this animal that lives inside the river, inside the flow. She takes her fear down to the river and uses its power to navigate the waves, and spins in the never not broken water. Akhilanda shows us that this is beautiful.

 

 

I love this so much. Somehow it was exactly what I needed to read today.

Between my divorce and recent health discoveries and frustrations I feel so broken. I feel like over the past year that crocodile has dragged me into the river and spun me around over and over and over until I don’t know who I am or where I’m going anymore. I am so afraid; of where my life will go from here, if I will ever get well or rather just continue to get worse and worse until something kills me, if I will be alone forever, if I am too sick and stupid to accomplish anything with my life. Those are just the ones I can vocalize, I feel like there are so many more fears hiding under the surface that I don’t even understand enough to be able to describe them.

So today I have decided to be a goddess; I will get on my crocodile and ride my fears right to something beautiful. I will be never not broken, and it will be amazing.

Akhilanda is also sometimes described in our lineage like a spinning, multi-faceted prism. Imagine the Hope Diamond twirling in a bright, clear light. The light pouring through the beveled cuts of the diamond would create a whirling rainbow of color. The diamond is whole and complete and BECAUSE it’s fractured, it creates more diverse beauty. Its form is a spectrum of whirling color.

Image

With brokenness comes great potential not only for change, but for refining and smoothing and shaping.

 

So now is the time, this time of confusion and brokenness and fear and sadness, to get up on that fear, ride it down to the river, dip into the waves, and let yourself break. Become a prism.

All the places where you’ve shattered can now reflect light and colour where there was none. Now is the time to become something new, to choose a new whole.

 

Read the full article here: http://www.elephantjournal.com/2011/06/why-being-broken-in-a-pile-on-your-bedroom-floor-is-a-good-idea-julie-jc-peters/

Pictures from the article, and google, respectively.

 

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Hooray for wigs and new beginnings!

I did it.

I said I wouldn’t, but I did.

I got a hair cut.

I know, I know, big deal, right? It’s just a hair cut.

Except it’s not just a hair cut…for a handful of reasons.

First, I have can count the number of hair cuts I have gotten in the last 5 years on one hand and have fingers to spare.

Second, my head is significantly lighter now…10 inches lighter, to be exact.

Third, those 10 inches will now be made into a wig for a child fighting cancer. ❤ This is a big deal for me as my aunt is a breast cancer survivor and I remember her struggle to find a wig that made her feel comfortable.

Fourth, it means something.

 

About a week before my ex-husband and I started dating I chopped off all of my hair. I don’t know why, just felt like it I guess. Well, he was upset…he told me I shouldn’t do that again because he liked my hair long. So I didn’t. Don’t get me wrong, I know that makes him sound controlling and he really wasn’t; I actually liked my hair long anyway, and I wanted him to like how I looked (what girlfriend/wife doesn’t?). So I haven’t had a real hair cut since then.

So the other day when the urge to chop it off struck me (it does that periodically), I just got a hair cut. Simple as that. For once I just made a decision without stopping to think what he, or anyone else would think about it.

It’s really quite freeing to just make decisions, without worrying about how it will affect someone else or what anyone will think (wow, getting a little deep here…it’s just a hair cut…or is there more on my mind tonight than just hair?)

Hair cuts have always felt like new beginnings to me; a new style, a new way of doing it every day, maybe even a new color! (Still contemplating that one…)

I feel like I just cut off the last 5 years of relationship…and the new grows now will be me, and only me.

 

Plus there are definite perks to this short hair thing:

1. Uhm, it’s suffocatingly HOT outside…enough said

2. I actually feel like I can safely manage to wash it all by myself, even on bad days (thank goodness for shower chairs too!). That used to be one of the things that I had to have help with when I was very sick.

3. I can actually hold my arms up long enough to style it, most days. Feeling like I am pretty is soooo important for my mental, and therefore physical, health.

4. A lot of it was falling out anyway…and it’s much less annoying to lose hair when it’s short.

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Bed time thoughts

I did it.

Last night I slept in “our” bed, alone…for the first time.

The nice, king size one, that it was his idea to buy for me because it would help my pain. The one with the two, husband and wife sized, indents in it. The one where I lay as I sweated and shook from withdrawal. The one where we talked, and laughed, and argued. Where we watched The Colbert Report together every single night, and where he insisted on watching The Price Is Right every single morning, even though that show drives me nuts. Where he used to stay awake playing video games, and take embarrassing pictures of how I was sleeping. Where I spent hours laying, staring at the ceiling, feeling like I was dying and convinced I was. Where he gave me many, many back massages. Where we ate countless meals, and satisfied random middle of the night cravings for things like pickles and scrambled eggs. 

We spent most of our life in bed.

Most of the end of our marriage in this bed.  

But I did it. I slept here, and I didn’t even cry…barely

I’ve been told this is one of those things that gets easier. I hope so.

I hope one day soon I won’t have to remind myself that I don’t have to lay on “my” side. That I won’t roll over and smell the essence of him lingering. That feeling the vast emptiness that is this bed, and my life, won’t make me sad anymore.

But really…who knows…

For now, I’ll just make jokes…

Ways to know if your bed is too big for only 1 person:

You have to roll over twice to reach the snooze button

You can pile half the bed full of all the books, papers, etc. you want and still have more than enough room to sleep.

You can practically make snow angels in your bedspread.

 

Time for night #2…goodnight friends. ❤

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The spirit of relationship past…

The other night I was doing that thing I do, you know, where I dance around the kitchen to my favorite song of the week and sing while I cook?

You used to laugh at me for it. I used to make you leave the room. 

Only this time I wasn’t “home”, I wasn’t in “our” kitchen, and you weren’t in the other room watching tv.

It was the first time I had let loose like that since…you know. It was nice. 

But as I was dancing, and cooking, and singing to my music, I felt you. If I didn’t know better I would have sworn you were there, sneaking up behind me like you used to do, about to wrap your arms around me, kiss my cheek, and probably tickle me (knowing you). Back when we were happy, you did things like that. I half expected to see you there when I turned around. But of course, you weren’t there. 

Never again will you do that to me, or make me smile like that.

Never again will we be that kind of happy. 

That makes me just a little bit sad. 

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Being a grown up is overrated.

So my birthday is coming up in…11 days. Woo hoo? I think this is the first time I’ve ever been really not excited for my birthday. I guess that makes me officially a grown up now?

I mean, I’m excited to spend time with family and friends, and I always make it a point to treat myself to something for my birthday and spend a little time relaxing (it’s basically the only time I do that all year), so that’s exciting.

But it’s also the first birthday I’ve spent alone in 5 years, the first birthday since my parents moved out of state, and the first birthday where I really feel like my life is slipping away.

This is SO not where I thought my life would be at 25…and that’s depressing. 😦

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Friendship and romance

“It’s bullshit to think of friendship and romance as being different. They’re not. They’re just variations of the same love. Variations of the same desire to be close.” Rachel Cohn

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May 15, 2014 · 3:22 pm