Here is a myth about divorce … you stop loving the other person. For me, it’s not quite like that. I loved my ex husband. I had every intention of spending the rest of my life with him … flaws and all. I knew things weren’t going so well between us, but I also didn’t plan on going anywhere. I was going to work at it. All good things are worth fighting for, right?
When I first shared here that I was divorced, I asked for respect of my privacy and to just know that I had given it a great deal of thought; it wasn’t a rash decision … and it didn’t have anything to do with Owen’s death (although I’m sure it didn’t help the situation between Doug and I). I haven’t found my elegance on my blog since then. Words and stories used to flow through my fingers. I could draft an entire blog on my way to work, and then come home and type it all out to share. It was effortless really. These past months, I feel clumsy. What part of my story am I ok to share, and what parts are still mine to hold secret? They are all woven together so it’s hard to share anything. I feel like the raw parts of me, that I’m used to sharing, are no longer “something to talk about.”
I feel erased from a life that I loved … from someone I loved so dearly. I want to tell you how much better life is, now that I’m not in an abusive relationship. I’m ashamed to say how much I miss him some nights. No one gets married to get divorced. Unlike Owen’s journey, this one is not inspiring or strong. It’s just all messed up.
The first guy to ask me for coffee sweeps me off my feet and drops me to crash on the ground. Not his fault, it’s my own. I should have never let both feet leave the ground. It was nothing really … a lunch and a visit to the museum. But yet, I relive the feeling of being erased all over again when he denies knowing me. Then, me like a loser, wonders if he ever thinks about me. It’s like I’m in 7th grade all over again. Worrying and wondering and being too embarrassed to admit it. Knowing that I’ve been through the death of a child, I should be able to handle these kinds of things like a champ.
The death of a child is far worse than a divorce. Owen is gone, never coming back again. There is no light at the end of that tunnel. But in divorce, there is the possibility of a second chance. I feel stupid for processing Owen’s death with grace and struggling so much with divorce.
Perhaps it’s because Owen’s death wasn’t something I caused or could have avoided. I did everything I could – CPR, sat by his bedside, prayed and trusted God. The autopsy came back without any answers – which to me, was a relief because it means I didn’t miss anything. There was nothing I could have done to save him. In my marriage I see all of the red flags before we got married. I remember trying to zone out what my gut was really telling me. I flash back to losing my temper with him over and over again. There are so many things I could have done differently. If I had only been able to control my anger. If I had only made more of his favorite meals. So much regret and “what if’s.”
So here I am on the night of November 1, 2014 – almost 11 months to the date after my divorce was final, I am working through the truth; to earn back my authenticity with you. We’ve been through so much, why not this too?
One thing I have learned is that you have to allow yourself to “go there.” You have to be brave enough to face what is going on, to be strong enough to go to those low places. If you avoid them, you don’t really get through them. They will continue to follow you in the shadows.
I am strong. I am still wearing the armor of God and know that He is working for good in all of this. My prayer is that one day Doug and I will be able to be friends again. I’m scared to admit that I hope to be in love again some day. I have never wanted to spend life alone. It’s hard to see the path that God is leading me on when I’m so focused on who isn’t with me. I’m not very good at this .. but it’s all about imperfect progress, right?