Divorce took a lot from me. Sometimes a loss isn’t always a loss. Sometimes it is.
- My Home. I carefully and excitedly picked every color on those walls, the window treatments, the rugs, the tile in the bathroom, the shade of the stain on the wood floors, the new counter and the fantastic cupboards in the kitchen. I lovingly hung each frame on the wall with a plan in my head. The light in the kitchen I got for a steal and was perfect. I had cute tablecloths for each season. I often took pride in getting the wood floors shiny and bright. I used to plant flowers and maintain a small modest garden. I had little lawn decorations for each holiday. The nursery was fun and again every little detail I poured my heart into. Gone.
- The Boat. Materialistic. Yep. But it was his family’s boat we inherited and it was so much fun. Now I don’t have one. I never even went after the value of the boat in the divorce. I just let it be his. But it stings now to see my little guy talk about “Daddy’s boat” and the picture I had commissioned of the dog in that boat hangs on my wall now. Just a reminder of what I have lost.
- I always thought I was above having my heart broken, I was invincible. I used to think to myself “Phew I’m married, so now I will never have my heart broken” I seriously always felt that he loved me a little more than I loved him. He was always chasing me when we were young and stupid and I was always trying to be too cool. Settling down with him felt like the natural next step but part of me always thought, he loves me more than I love him. Looking back, we were really great friends. Shitty lovers. He took that from me. He cheated on me. Ripped my heart right out and tossed it like it was spoiled food. He killed me from the inside. Not invincible.
- Fairy tale. I used to think that was what we had. What we were living. So naive. My stupidity really shows when I admit this huh? He took that perception from me and replaced it with uncertainty and fear. Now I have to navigate a life I never wanted. Full of co parenting, mediation, ex husbands, step family, dating, different last names, being misunderstood in regards to my family structure. This is a twisted version of a fairy tale now.
- Security. I was robbed of knowing my future. It was stolen from me so suddenly. I spend a lot of time lately unable to really feel “safe” where I am.
- I lost a little bit of me. That innocent trusting bit. That was optimistic and always knew that things will work out. That is gone. I cannot trust that anyone will keep a promise, or a vow. I do not think that anyone in my life other than my parents is ever in my life only because they care for me. I am firmly of the frame of mind that if something is good… wait… because the bad is coming. I miss that girl sometimes. And other days I look at her in the mirror and I smile because she’s gone and now I am stronger in her absence.
- Freedom. I have shoved my life in a bedroom back at my parents. I share every milestone and private moment with my son, with my parents. I feel like a teenager some days. I miss my life of having a home. A sense of freedom. I miss privacy. I wonder if I would yearn to live back home if I was off on my own?
- SOME of my pride. In divorce most people say things they cannot take back. Many times they regret it. Some people do things out of character and find they also regret it. I am sad to report I only a tiny bit regret my actions. But I know in the process I’ve lost a bit of pride.I remember telling him he never satisfied me sexually (a chunk of truth to it) and that was cruel. I told him that I’d rather die that be divorced. I was so desperate. I remember getting on my knees while he was working at Home Depot and BEGGING him to love me. I peed on his tooth brush. I cleaned the toilet with his toothbrush. I hacked loogie in his whiskey. I stalked the “other woman” and I obsessed about her. I called her phone and hung up. I called a secret complaint to the store about her. I broke things. I broke glass on the floor and walked on it in my bare feet, so I could show him pain. I broke our wedding photo over my knee the day I moved the last of my stuff. Lots of blood that day. In a fight I put my hand on his shoulder and I gripped him, pulling him back. I remember ripping my hand off and looking at it in shock. I vented my private life on Facebook and caught A LOT of shit for it (no concrete details just some hints… “vaguebooking”) None of that is how I conduct myself.
- Being controlled and manipulated. It wasn’t all the time. It wasn’t some unbearable existence. But it was something I was very aware of once it was over. Something as simple as wanting to go have dinner at my parents was an argument. And I was made to feel guilty for going with out him. And I’d rush home to him, not enjoying myself. Every argument, every time I would air a concern I was made to feel like I was wrong. He had a magical way of turning a situation into something that was bigger than it was. As opposed to a simple open conversation or a calm discussion. He turned it into an attack. Always on the defense with his hackles up. I felt at some point that was just what marriage was supposed to be. You just move on from it. But I see how unhealthy it became for both of us.
- Friends. Old, new, mine, his. Gone. For various reasons. Some hurt more than others. Some I carry the burden for burning the bridge. Others I smile at the memories but feel lighter without them.
- My ability to be a chronic optimist. I now see the perpetual and ginormous list of things that can and will go wrong. I don’t believe anything is ever certain. Permanent. I look at other people and I see all the bad, all the harm they can and will do to me. Old me was a dreamer. A believer. An idiot.
- My freakin crock-pot (it was like the Cadillac of crock-pots), All of the baby stuff (jumpers, swings, walkers) because he SOLD THEM ON CRAIGSLIST (Still pissed can you tell?), Baby clothes!!! The clothes he came home in, the clothes from birth to about 9-12 months that I had saved to make a quilt for him. Free tickets to off broadway shows, not that I would want to go because they were with his mother. The coolest spice rack ever. OK now that is just whiny. But stuff! Stuff that was mine. And now gone, or just not mine.
So. Some of the “losses” were gains. Some are just stuff. Stuff I will get back. Some are holes that will ache. I think it may be time for a good list of what I have gained.