One woman digs through the ashes for answers.
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When I finally decided it was time to tell my (almost-ex) husband I wanted him to move out, that I wanted a divorce, I wasn’t ready to walk through the fire. I’d skipped around the burning coals for years, dancing past the cinders, dropping hints through smoke so thick, it choked my ability to be honest with him.
So I drifted further into myself, the cloud of silence growing, the fire building.
When silence didn’t work, we had conversations about what needed to change, what we both needed to work on. I loved him. It wasn’t that. It’s still not that. He’s a good man, a good father. I’ve known him almost half my life. My god, how is that possible?
My feet continued to burn.
I blurted it out one day, “You need to leave!” in a rush before I lost my nerve, my soles on fire.
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I blurted it out one day, “You need to leave!” in a rush before I lost my nerve, my soles on fire. I couldn’t breathe with his booming voice, his anxiety vibrating, snapping at the very air of his slamming door, slamming drawer, clutter-filled presence. I needed peace. I wanted counter space. To breathe in my own clear air.
My soul burning.
So he left. Not without some protest, a mountain of bills, and the upheaval of our now suitcase-carrying, back and forth children who think I’m being selfish. And that’s okay. I see their point. They are too young to understand that breathing isn’t selfish. It’s more important that we do this thing together, focusing on co-parenting them, and we are. We are friends. He still calls me “Hon,” after twenty-two years together, which is sweet and only slightly strange, as when a child calls you by your first name.
There is no detour when it comes to ending a marriage.
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It’s been easier, and harder, to go through than around. There is no detour when it comes to ending a marriage. “You will have to walk through the fire,” my therapist told me, and she’s right. Nobody does this for you. It’s a grown-up thing, this divorce business.
You dig through the ashes for answers, and realize that you are just as imperfect as you fear, that all those cliches about change are so fucking true. I don’t blame him. I don’t blame me. I don’t even blame change. Maybe I’m fooling myself, but taking a Zen approach to it all has helped immensely.
I realize control is an illusion. We can’t shape a tattered love that’s no longer there, yet I can choose to cherish memories, and be thankful for happy times and amazing kids. That we’ve salvaged enough of it to still care about each other and our family makes me if not happy, at least grateful for this solo walk.
I’m damaged. I’m healing. I’m tending my scars.
The way it is with any kind of burn.
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This post originally appeared on RachelintheOC.com.
Photo: Flickr/JasonParis
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You didn’t just walk through that fire.. you danced! Look at how wonderful you are doing! 🙂 You are so right about how very hard it can be at times. I walked through that fire! I made it to the other side!! 🙂 huge step for me. Much love and hugs! Deborah♡
I need to find my Zen. Thanks for sharing this.
There’s a myth that’s semi-prevalent today that some sort of perfect divorce exists. If there is I haven’t seen it yet amongst any of my friends or family. There seems to always be some sort of wreckage even if both partners walk away amicably. As you say, there are always ashes to sift through — a realization that you’re not perfect just as your spouse isn’t perfect and the marriage becomes more of recognizing how many imperfections can’t be lived through together. It’s not blame shifting or assigning; it’s recognizing the humanness in people. And how human it is for… Read more »
That’s a huge realization, C. Just as there’s no perfect marriage, or relationship, there’s never going to be a perfect breakup, either. So many people see divorce as failure, and I don’t know, maybe it is; but, maybe it isn’t. Taking two people from totally different backgrounds and forming a perfect union — how realistic is that? Who knows?
Regardless, I appreciate your insights. Thank you.
This is such a beautiful piece, Rachel. Your description of what it’s like to realize you need to end your marriage and then endure that disengagement process is spot on. It’s very much a fire, and few of us come out the other side of a divorce without being at least singed by those flames. Your acknowledgement that the process can be brutal validates the experience of so many of us. Thank you.
Thank you for reading and commenting, Bobbi. Nothing about this process is easy, and knowing that going in is likely what keeps most people from making the choice to move forward with it. I know that’s what kept me from making the decision for many unhappy years.
Now, I see divorce as the bridge to thriving, not only for me but for my children, too. It’s not an easy path, and on days like today, where it’s one obstacle after another, it’s especially difficult — but that’s also what continues to drive me on.