The yearning to move on has simmered inside the deepest part of this weary soul for years now. Somehow, my body is compacted and pressed back into a slingshot and flung at the wall by my ex daily against my will, either directly or indirectly through the children. My catlike reflexes are no match for the spirit of divorce. “If I stop writing,” I thought, “maybe I can start over?” It seems writing was directly correlated with the life standstill, or I preferred to escape by believing that if I stopped writing, the abuse would stop too.
Let this be your warning: a divorce with children doesn’t end the abuse. If anything, divorce turns up the heat several notches, but it is no longer on your doorstep, which is the benefit of living separately. The days have been a blur since I stopped writing. The intention of this is not to tell a story, but to inform you that your endurance is REQUIRED during this process.
Ignorant. Starting this process, the name that would be appropriate is ignorant and hopeful. Hello, my name is Ignorant Hopeful, don’t flatten me too much so that I still stay recognizable. See the edge here on my shoulder, that’s from falling asleep on the couch at midnight every week, from being too exhausted to move. See that receding hairline, that’s from lack of nutrition and worry. See that look of despair, that’s from looking around for help and finding none.
Divorces continue to swirl around in the media, and I keep thinking, why am I the only one having this experience? Jovial podcasts have popped up about divorce, throwing terminology and tips around like it is fodder for entertainment. Head buried in my hands, shaking side to side, “This can’t be real life. What happened to the things that I thought were true?” My reality is twisted more than ever before in the last 5 years than in the last 10 years altogether. People entrusted to be confidants, mentors, and friends have melted away as if they never existed in the first place. Turning slightly, reflection reveals the toxicity has stuck to the bottoms of my soles and sticks to whomever is in my path. One foot lifts, and then the other. The tar-like goo clings to me as if it has leech properties and no cleaning solution will disintegrate the chemical bonds. INSERT: scream of turmoil and suffering.
Does it ever end? According to this article Legal Info Lawyers it does end, but that’s not my experience; therefore, FIGHT since fighting is the only thing that feels life-giving. The battle is not over. It is not over with dissolution. It is not over with bifurcation. It is not over with the settlement and negotiating away your rights to make it end. Divorce life does not end when you must share CHILDREN. Gather your gear. Arm yourself with weapons of mass destruction (figuratively of course). Prepare for the worst battle you can imagine. It’s WWII without the blood and gore. It’s September 11th with no visible signs of ash to the outside world. Be ready. It is terrible. It is long. It is grueling. Keep going.
FYI Divorce 