I never, ever in a million years imagined it would happen. But...it did.
I've learned a hell of a lot, and I still have so much more to learn. One huge thing I've seen is that people who haven't been divorced really have no business acting like they know how it feels, how a marriage gets to that point, or saying divorce is the easy way out. It's not. Anyone who's been divorced knows exactly what I mean.
Facebook is riddled with stories about 25 ways to divorce-proof your marriage, advice from some page written by a divorced guy on what he did wrong that you can do right to save your marriage, how putting in the effort will make it all okay. I call bullshit. Seriously.
On a daily basis I see the quotes about how people back in the day didn't get divorced because they lived in a time when something was broken, they took the time to fix it. People flippantly drop words like throwing in the towel, calling it quits, giving up, etc. and they don't realize the sting it leaves for those of us whose marriages ended.
To be honest, unless you've been there, shut your trapper. Better yet...even if you have been through it, you will never, ever know what one particular couple is going through or the depths they went to in order to try and save what they once had - no matter how their lives look on the outside. You can try and try and try, and some things just can't be fixed.
I've learned to listen to my heart - unabashedly. To trust my gut and follow it full speed ahead.
Watching my kids struggle to adjust and make sense of their new lives was probably harder than the daunting task of dealing with my own emotions. The kids adjusted - and continue to do so. We all do. And in the process, we learn more about who we are and what we're made of.
I've learned to appreciate solitude and quiet...I've learned to slow down, to be kinder to myself, and to allow myself to fully experience whatever it is I am going through, unapologetically.
I lost at least 10 pounds in the course of the divorce. I either had no appetite or couldn't keep any food down. I wished and wished that something would sound good. I just wanted to eat again. And one day...I did. And I gained all the weight back, plus a little extra for good measure. Because carbs are my friend. And food is good. I haven't beaten myself up over it. I'd rather have pants that are a bit snug than be unable to keep any food down. And, at some point, I'll figure out a way to make working out a regular part of my routine. Right now I'm okay with sleeping in the morning and giving my body and mind the rest it needs, coming home to relax at night, and heading out for a run when I can.
If I feel the need to cry, I do. I let it out. I love the way tears cleanse the soul. Then, when I've cried enough, I wipe my eyes and move on. I allow myself to be angry, sad, joyful, adventurous, thankful, brave, scared - whatever...I've learned the importance of honoring my emotions whatever they may be.
And I've done the same for my kids. Jack had some horribly nasty fits these past few months...as any 2-year-old experiencing such transition would. He screamed, he threw things, he kicked, he bit, he yelled. He emptied entire bookshelves, threw countless piles of folded clothes off the table. The majority of the fits were easily identified as happening in transition times, so I knew what was going on. As long as he wasn't hurting himself or anyone else, I just let him feel what he needed to feel...to express with his actions what his little toddler mind couldn't yet put into words. And Kaylee was always supported in whatever she was feeling or whatever questions she needed answers to.
There are so many lessons for all of us in this. Life isn't perfect. Dreams don't always last. Our futures are often nothing like we picture they will be.
We don't grow in the easy times. We grow in the times when we wonder how we will ever make it through. We GROW when make the choice to be healthy human beings and do what we know in our hearts we need to do.
I had to take a leap of faith. I believed that things would be okay. Did I need reminders that it would be alright and that I would survive? That I was not ruining the lives of my children? You bet I did. I learned to ask for help. To readily accept it. To let others take care of me some days instead of insisting on being the one to always care for others. To be alone when I wanted to. To shut out the world when it was necessary, and not force myself to give an explanation to people as to why.
I strongly believe in being honest with myself, my kids and those around me. And I passionately believe that one of my most important jobs in life is to being an example to my children that we can survive anything. That family is life, and that family doesn't always mean those we are related to.
They need to see that when we face struggles, we will suffer, we will grow, we will succeed and rise above and we will keep. moving. forward.
We will hold our heads high. We will not pretend it's easy. We will hold the hands of those around us who accept us and love us and hold us up - unconditionally.
Because being brave doesn't mean we don't hurt. It doesn't mean we aren't scared. It means we look at life square in the eyes and refuse to back down, cower, or give in to those things that challenge us, or terrify us.
I chose to believe that good things could come from this. That I would feel happy again, that I would continue to love life, that I would be open to new possibilities, to new experiences, and to believe that life would go on. And it has.
In reality, even on the days when it felt like the world was caving in, with each day, the kids and I were becoming closer to fine...even on the hardest days, and even when we couldn't see it.
