After One Year

I'm not lonely. Someone - in her infinite wisdom - pointed out that doing things solo is not new for me. I was a solo act even before I wasn't.

My life is still intertwined with his in more ways than I'd like it to be. Mostly, these are financial connections. I just try to remind myself they are temporary.

I'm continually surprised by how deeply this has impacted my relationships. Mostly, the impact has been positive. I am generally overwhelmed by support and love and caring. Old friendships have strengthened, and new friendships have formed. Occasionally, though, being "New Barb" challenges my friendships. I'm not the same person I used to be, and my friends seem to be in varying places with their support of this. This isn't just an adjustment for me.

I am disappointed. I'm disappointed in him for not wanting to fight and work for us when things got tough. I'm disappointed in him for just giving up. I'm disappointed in myself for taking our relationship for granted, for not seeing that things got bad before they were beyond repair.

I'm not where I thought I'd be. Okay. I don't even know what that means. A year ago, I had no plan for where I wanted to be. I still don't. Maybe it's more accurate to say I'm not satisfied or comfortable with all aspects of where I am.

I still cry. I'm crying now. I'm considering staying in my pajamas and crying all day.

I've found new things I love - sushi, gin, Taylor Swift, Max Brenner chocolate, and eye liner (to name a few).

My pronoun use hasn't adjusted. "We stayed in a treehouse when we visited Seattle." "Our house is for sale." 

I'm damn proud that it's me who has built a new life. It's me who has found happiness in a new city. It's me who is satisfied with a new job. Those are the very things that he said would make him happy. Has he gone after them? Nope. But, I have.

Apparently, I'm also a little bitter. 

I have a stash of stuff from my married life. A box labeled "Wedding Dress," plastic bins of photos and letters, my rings. I can't sort through them yet, and I can't bring myself to just throw them away.

I get incredibly nervous thinking about seeing him (or someone who is part of his team) somewhere unexpectedly. 

I'm afraid of becoming one of "those" bitter divorced people - the woman who doesn't trust, who says negative things about men, who tells stories of her divorce, who commiserates a little too emphatically with other divorcees.

What to say?

What to say about today?

Today I am overwhelmed.
I am angry.
I am disappointed in myself.

I do a decent job of keeping everything together, of seeming okay.
(I even rocked a very big work thing today. Go me!) 
I deliberately plan things to look forward to.
I am great at finding diversions.
I laugh a lot.

Tonight it all has the better of me, though.

Two weeks is d-day. Instead of facing the deadline with organization and bravery and a fuck-it attitude, I'm stuck. I've put off the paperwork; the deadline is too close. I'm back in a not-good place that I didn't really ever want to have to go back to.

Tonight, it is just too hard to pretend that everything is okay.
I wish more people would be honest about that.

I want to remember.

Screen shot. My Facebook timeline from about one year ago.

Not too long ago I caught myself telling someone, A year ago, I never would have guessed my life would turn out this way. And, a year from now I hope I can forget this part.

I'm sorry I said that. I don't want to forget this part.

This is the part where I got brave. The part where I started taking care of myself. The part where I realized the things that it never occurred to me I wanted.

And, the really hard truth is that I don't want to forget the part where I was married either.


No matter how much it hurts right now to think about being married, there are some things I want to remember about it.

Being folded into a big, safe hug after a difficult day. Enjoying time by myself as a special treat - little things like Thai take-out eaten on the couch while watching Gilmore Girls. Cooking and sharing Sunday breakfast. Cutting down a Christmas tree together. Reminiscing about shared moments and memories.

I don't want to forget those parts.

They are part of who I was, am, and will be.

Friday Wisdom, Vol. 5

Found via Pinterest from Isabella.Nina.

Actually the art of Sabrina Ward Harrison.

I'm the kind of person who always has a plan. I often fail at the steps needed to get to the plan, but I generally have some kind of a plan or scheme, some sort of grand next steps, something to work toward, or just something to countdown and look forward to.

I can't remember what that was in my marriage. 

Awaiting a holiday, putting other commitments on the calendar, getting promotions at work. None of that is really something meaningful to work toward together. 

I truly can't remember the last time we really had something we were working toward together. 

We worked toward a house. . . 7 years ago. We planned a wedding. . . 8 years ago. We moved from one city to another. . . 9 years ago. 

And, I'm not even really confident we is the right pronoun to apply to any of that.

But, really. We were holding onto a future together for a whole lot of years with absolutely no plan or direction. Why was it such a surprise, then, that things fell apart?

What really matters right now, though, is the choice to let go of all of that planned life.

What I've gained by letting go of that is a life I never ever realized I wanted.

And, that's pretty damn awesome.

Perspective

I'm not feeling real steady or even or certain or confident these days.

In the moments where I'm feeling the greatest happiness. . .

• After a fabulous weekend with friends
• Noticing small details about the town where I live
• Sharing a meal with friends
• Accomplishing a whole lot all by myself
• Enjoying being able to see my bestie any time I want to

. . . the happiness is replaced with some pretty sudden sadness.

This part of my life is ending.

The sadness is followed by all sorts of anger and frustration.

I cannot believe he did this to me.

Happiness turns into anger and I begin to feel like a victim.

He did this to me.

I'm trying hard to remember to turn this around. 

I'm trying really hard to teach myself to instead think,

His choice made me a better person, a stronger person.

His choice helped me realize how blessed I am. I have amazing friends who will support me and step up to do anything I need. Really. Anything.

His choice helped me remember that I can (and should) rely on my family. They are good people who love me no matter what.

His choice helped me remember that I am hilarious and a whole lot of fun to be around.

His choice helped me believe in myself enough to take advantage of an opportunity I'd turned down several times.

His choice helped me find the strength and direction I lost somewhere along the way.

Yay. He did all of that to me, too.