Some Unfiltered Thoughts About the Finalization of My Divorce

This is what I wrote on the day that I get divorced.  I could edit this, but that would seem to dilute the true meaning.

If I had any sense, I would keep this to myself.  I would at least of the good sense to at least sleep on it and at least edit.

But I won't.  Maybe raw and fresh wounds heal faster when they are given some air.

This does not feel like I thought it would.  Instead of using a list of adjectives that are rendered meaningless in such circumstances, I will use an anology.

Getting the final papers is like throwing in the last handful of dirt into the grave.  The shock and grief of the death are over and you just want to get in the car, drive away and eat.  Only there are no condolescenses, no awkward hugs from relatives you only see under such cirmstances, no "it will get better looks" from friends.  It is like going to your own funeral after a suicide.  No one knows what to say and it's your fault.  You are invisible.

I am the only guest at my own wake.  On the way back from my ex's house, the home I lived in for eight years, I picked up a pack of cigarettes and a peanut butter m & m's.  Sugar is my real drug of choice.  I don't even enjoy smoking and the chocolate in the m & m's tastes cheap and waxy, but I want to punish myself.  For what, I'm not sure.  It was truly a "no fault" divorce.  Whatever that is.

I feel the nicotene and sugar hit my blood stream making feel numb and jittery at the same time.  The chemicals swirl with my sadness and self-defeat making me feel exactly the way I think I deserve to feel, miserable.  I am almost disappointed that this is the extent of my self-destruction.  There have been times that I would do far worse things to my body for far less cause but this time its different.  This time, I have self worth.  I love myself.  And once you love yourself, you become damn intolerant of those who doesn't share your opinion.

Sitting in my ex's house, having a mostly civil discussion with only the occasional emotional outburts (on my part) , I look around and it doesn't look like "my house."  It just looks like a house.  It is nicely furnished and tastefully decorated.  It is quite clear that I was the messy one of the house.  And I don't think I flatter myself too much to also note that I was the vibrant one.  I made that house a home.  But home is where the heart is.

My heart belongs to another now.  I can give myself to him fully.  Now that I am really free, I can't help but fear that we will not return my affections. It is a fear that is completely unfounded because he just called me to make sure I was okay.  He tried to joke with me, but I wasn't in the mood.  I am at my own funeral and a funeral is no time for jokes.
 
I am giving myself until the end of this small single serving size bag of m & m's and about three cigarettes to grieve something that is long past dead.  Because really, its just paperwork.  Even tonight, talking with a man that I spent more than a decade with,  basically my entire adult life (so far) I shared his bed and his life, I see how many ways are really incompatible.  Not how he is "bad" or I am "bad" just .... not working.

I will not sit here and lie and say it was all a mistake.  That is not fair and not accurate.  I will have a tender spot in my heart for him.  Right now that tender spot is a bruise.

I know my boyfriend has loved other women.  I am sure that those women have come to his mind from time to time.  And a few of them I'd like to thank for making him the man he is now.  We are not children.  We are not blinded by love.  We are going into this thing with our eyes wide open.  With our hearts open too.  Sometimes a heart has to break to be broken open to accept a kind of love your former self could never imagined before.  Sometimes you have to die to be reborn.  To realize you weren't really alive.

I have to thank my ex.  It is because of him that I am the woman I am today.  He really did finish raising me.  I was so young.  Maybe not chronologically, but I was so naive.  We both were.  We could not be our true selves if we stayed together.  So we did the kindest thing we could have done for each other and let go.
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The new love of my life will be over in a few hours.  He will hold me in his arms and make me feel safe, treasured, and loved.

I am reborn.


****I had a boyfriend when I wrote this.  These are out of order, but I thought that this needed to be in here.