Finding Forty: Hope for the Hopeless

The sadness is seeping in, ever so slightly, ever so slowly.   Ironically, it is in some of my most happy moments that I suddenly become acutely aware of a melancholy lurking deep and dark within me.

Could it be guilt?   I have definitely moved forward in many ways.  Am I feeling guilty for moving on? Or do I just miss the friendship I shared with A?

The other day, he sent me a text saying he needed to talk to me.   He seemed adamant that we talk in person and wouldn't elude to what the topic was.   Immediately, my stomach lurched and churned.   I'm divorced now, free, so to speak, and I still felt like I'd done something wrong.   Or was it something else?

Did he want to tell me about a new girlfriend?   Had he had a one night stand on his business trip last week?  Did he discover something about me and my new relationship that he needed answers about?  Even though I have no claim to him now and I moved on, those thoughts still haunt me at times.  The possibilities were endless and it bugged me.

All night I tossed and turned.   Finally, at 2:48 a.m. I typed an email telling him the ambiguity of his comment was distressing to me.   I needed to know what he wanted to talk about.

The morning dawned and we exchanged a few more texts about the boys.   He said nothing of the email.   I asked him to lunch to see if he wanted to talk then.   He told me he'd already made lunch plans with co workers.   He then texted that he didn't think we needed to talk anymore.

What?  

At this point, I was frustrated.  It was all sort of starting to feel passive aggressive and manipulative.  

Then I got an email, a response to the one I'd sent in the wee hours of the night.

Basically, he was having a hard time with something about me, about us and he hasn't yet figured out the nature of our relationship or what he even wants it to be, other than co-parents.

My heart broke a bit more as I read those words.   How selfish of me, I know.   I ripped his out and moved right on and I have the nerve to be upset because he's not ready to be my friend.

Thing is, I can't fathom him not being in my life.   For 24 years this man has been there, at least in some ways, and I don't want to lose that.

I know he needs time.  We all do.

And so, the sadness seeps in as the friendship fades.

Is there hope for the hopeless?

Finding Forty: Summer Swells

Is this normal?

I feel happy.   There is a smile that is perched just behind my lips, hidden.   But I feel it dwelling in my cheeks.

It's been four days since my divorce was finalized and I've yet to have those storm clouds and summer swells engulf me, suffocate me, drown me in sorrow.

Instead, I move with an ease through the day, my step a little lighter, my thoughts a bit brighter.

I can't help but feel a bit guilty about this.   While I'm not rejoicing and I do respect the gravity of the situation, I also have this underlying sense that we did the right thing for us.

The main problem I am having is how to let people know that this has happened.   I certainly don't want to post it on Facebook or Twitter.   Yesterday I googled "divorce announcements" and my search resulted in several hateful, spiteful, negative cards.  

I don't feel any of those ways.    I am sorry that my marriage of almost 20 years ended, I have regrets for sure, but I also feel a peace about it.   And it's not a peace that needs to be flaunted or waved about like some sort of flag.  I want to take my victory lap as quietly and amazingly content as possible.

I suppose for now, I will just sit with this new knowledge and let the reality slowly dawn on me.  There is really no need to inform people, other than my HR department and well, I actually can't think of anyone else.

When the time is right or the need arises, I will just politely, calmly tell people.  

Until then, I'll keep coasting on this wave of quiet resolution.

Finding Forty: Divorced

It's done.   I'm divorced.   After years of soul searching, tears, hurtful actions...the end has come.

Tonight I am numb.   Today, in front of the judge, I cried.   I'd like to say that as I stood next to A our years, our time together, the memories we created flashed by.   But in that moment, it didn't.   I don't know if it was nerves or fear or shock, but I wasn't overly nostalgic.

As an uncontested divorce,  I must confess that the entire process was fairly painless.   We were in and out of the lawyers office and the courthouse in less than an hour and a half.

Since we are still amicable, we rode together and even went for lunch afterwards.   It was pleasant and daresay, at times, light hearted.   That lightness is a blessing that I cherish when it is around.   I know it's not always there, so when it is, I'm happy.

When A dropped me back at home, I changed into comfy clothes and have pretty much vegged all night long.   I can't seem to get out of bed.   I've only just cried about it, but I fear the tears will be coming in storm sized waves soon.

Divorced.   Divorced.   I keep saying it to myself to see if it makes any sort of sense at all and it really doesn't.   It's a very strange feeling.

I don't want to dwell on our years past.  At least not tonight.   I don't think I could bear the weight of the hopes we fostered, the love we shared, the lives we nurtured.    In due time, I will reflect and smile through tears about those days, long gone now.

I am not quite ready to think of the future either.   Too vast, too broad, too scary and unknown.   Soon enough, I'll be ready to start dreaming and planning.   And that's exciting.

Tonight I'm content to just be here, in the now.   Breathing in and out as best I can.

Divorced.

Choices

My face is sticky and salty.   The tears have surely stained their way down and are pooling right under my chin.

I'm sad today.

A and I have our court date to finalize our divorce.   July 12.   After all this time, it's finally here and my heart is breaking.

He is such a good man, I feel devastated that I broke him like I did.   My mind cannot grasp how I could have done something so horrible, so wrong, so incredibly hurtful to a person who's only 'sin' was staying busy and not knowing how to reach me in a way that I could comprehend.

If ever you find yourself feeling unhappy, unsure, in a state of unrest about your relationship, please know that having an affair is not the answer.   Nothing good will ever come from the lies and hurt that result due to a relationship outside of your marriage.   Nothing.

I've taken 24 years of friendship and trust and completely thrown it away.  

I'm not saying that our marriage was strong enough to stand the test of time, but it might have been.   We had something special, we always felt so different, we were a team-until I got lost and drifted away.

I should have been honest, upstanding, handled myself with grace and integrity and  instead I chose the path of lies and destruction.  I'm so ashamed.

Saying I'm sorry doesn't come anywhere close to how remorseful I am.

This may very well be my biggest regret ever.