I can’t believe it’s almost August. It seems like just yesterday it was the beginning of May and my life was falling apart. Some days I still feel like it is, but most days I feel like it’s falling back together, if that makes any sense. I’ve reconnected with old friends and made new ones. I’ve taken on more responsibilities at my job. I joined the Junior League and I’m looking forward to community and social events that come along with that. In the midst of the progress, the forward-steps, I’m still walking around with the wrong last name. It can’t be changed until November and feels awkward to me. When I tell people my name, I feel like I’m lying somehow. It doesn’t feel like my name anymore.
I’ve been trying so hard to not be mad at K. Like I’m some zen jedi-master with some twisted idea that if I can’t be *good at being somebody’s wife, well then I’ll just be the best damn ex wife you’ve ever seen. I won’t yell at you when you call me, even when it’s well-deserved. I won’t write horrible emails to you or your family members and I’ll keep all your secrets. I’ll give you (most of) what you ask for in the divorce, including the property we own together, and I’ll be the one to move out. When people hear about the divorce and express sympathy, I’ll say things like “It just wasn’t working out” or “We were just two different people” instead of the real reasons you left. When I do this, I feel somehow like I’m letting you get away with murder, but I haven’t figured out a better way yet. I’ll let you talk condescendingly to me in emails and I’ll be the one to apologize for miscommunications, when you still have yet to apologize to me for anything.
You know that well-intentioned quote about anger? The one we’ve all heard before? It goes something like this: Holding on to anger is like drinking poison and hoping the other person will die. I really believe that quote. Holding onto anger is not good. But I think I forgot that it’s okay to be angry for awhile first. Especially when you’ve been wronged, betrayed, DIVORCED. In fact, it’s normal. I have been trying so hard to skip past this messy part – this painful part – and just get back to the “I’m okay” part, that I’ve been entirely too kind to this person who does not deserve it. I’m not saying that hateful emails would be helpful at all; I’m just saying they might be a little more genuine right now. If I am really going to heal and get to the “okay” and then to “surviving” and someday to “thriving”, I need to be honest and real about where I am right now.
I’m beyond hurt.
The English language does not even have words to describe the kind of hurt I feel.
I can tell you that shame is involved, as it is in most cases where there is rejection.
I feel lost.
I have so many questions and very few answers. There is so much uncertainly in my life at the moment, which gives me anxiety. I’m still breathing though the anxious moments as best I can, but I think the effect of the denial-drug is finally wearing off. Denial exists, as it turns out, as a powerful anti-anxiety coping skill. You think I would know this, being a therapist and all. It’s a lot harder to identify these things in yourself.
Perspective and gratitude are still my best friends. They help tremendously, and the people in my life who offer them to me on an as-needed basis (even if that basis is minute-to-minute) are the most wonderful human beings I’ve ever known. I’m so thankful.
*I was a damn good wife. That’s all.