More like a death than a divorce

Secretly, some days I think if he had died instead, this would all be less complicated. I know you’re cringing. I am going to lose some of you right away for saying that. It’s totally perverse, and I feel so much shame for thinking it, but I have thought it.

It’s like when I hear people with a rare disease say they wish they had cancer instead. CANCER? What?! No one wants cancer. That’s a horrible thing to say, but when doctors, family and society can’t comprehend how severely you are suffering, it is not rare at all for people to say, “At least if I said I had cancer, people would take my suffering seriously.”

When a loved one passes, that memory is in tact. In time, the very best memories rise to the surface. Their imperfections drift away. You cling most to the joy and love you shared, and their best attributes shine. That’s what I want for him. I want his legacy to be in tact, and to be part of my heart… for him not to have broken it.

In a divorce, even if you shared a long, loving and sweet relationship, the breakup and divorce process turns it all sour. I wish there were a way to put 16 years in a time capsule, and then just sweep away the last 9 months.

I want so badly to remember him as he used to be. It’s impossible to look back at the relationship with the love and sweetness it deserves without the ending shading every single moment beforehand. That’s how bitterness blooms.

I don’t want the best years of my life to be erased by a few months of the worst. Many have advised to just let go of it, but you can’t just punch out half of your life. I can’t move from this so quickly. Especially not when it ended so abruptly. It deserves to be felt. I loved him that much that I’m willing to feel it all.

I want to grieve the man I love like the widow grieves her departed. I want to cherish the love we shared like the treasure I believed it to be. I want to bury our marriage so it rests in peace. 

My other secret is that I pray for him. That he is well, and God is taking care of him.

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About abodyofhope

I do not know why it is that we must wade through tragic circumstances to find truth. We nearly drown! But under the water, there are pearls. I hope in writing this blog, more will come to the surface. Over the past 13 years living with chronic pain, patient advocacy has affected my life through so many remarkable young people, women and men: SURVIVORS. These individuals are HOPE personified. I wish to honor them in the same spirit they have encouraged me to press on. Six years ago, I became bed-bound from a variety of chronic illnesses after a procedure meant to help the pain condition I had been managing for several years- went bust #BIGTIME. In the last 6 years, my entire life has changed. I have changed, but I am still striving to live my best life possible. Along with sharing inspiring pieces, medical/holistic research, and awareness articles, this blog is also an attempt to put my own pieces back together. Welcome to A Body of Hope, and thank you for visiting. [Complex Regional Pain Syndrome/ RSD, Postural Orthostatic Tachycardia Syndrome (POTS), Dysautonomia, Chronic Intractable Migraine, Cluster headache, Trigeminal Neuralgia, Occipital Neuralgia, Hypersensitivity to Sound & Light, Fibromyalgia, CFS/ME, Cerebrospinal Fluid Imbalance......blah, blah, blah] >>> P.S. My headgear is protective for pain. I just rock it hard.

Posted on February 11, 2016, in Being Myself, divorce, Uncategorized and tagged , , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink. 16 Comments.

  1. You don’t have to react the way others think you should. The end of a marriage however it happens, needs to be grieved over and don’t let anyone tell you any difference. Do what is right for you and most of all, feel and think whatever you want!

    Oddly, my blog today, is just about this, not divorce, but the importance of letting your emotions being felt.

    Take care and celebrate the good times, as well as be angry about the bad. You can do both.

    Liked by 3 people

    • Thank you for the kind compassionate words and wisdom. I was very thankful to read your piece and see the reassurance of life well lived, despite great challenges and pain. I believe in that deeply.
      You know as a person with chronic illness, we tend to move from bad news more quickly than most. This is “trauma” that isn’t so fast to move from.
      You are always an encouragement, be it on twitter or your blog- I’m certain you leave an inspiring mark wherever you go. Hugs.

      Liked by 1 person

  2. The first paragraph is what makes you human, so don’t feel ashamed.
    I too have come across people in MS forums saying they preferred to have cancer. I don’t agree but I get it. We’re running marathons, with chronic illness, with loss, with grief, but sometimes we wished we were just sprinting.

    Liked by 1 person

    • I appreciate your warmth and reassurance. I hope your day isn’t full of “dramedy” today. All the spoons in the drawer to you, lovely xo

      PS, I don’t like when people use the cancer vs. invisible illness analogy either, but I relate to the frustration that gets people to saying it.

      Liked by 1 person

  3. awww sweetie, it is ok to feel this way. What happen to you was so traumatic and unexpected. It doesn’t make it easier that he was also your caretaker who knew how well to care for you. You shared a great bond that for whatever reason he just couldn’t continue. You have every right to grief every part of your relationship and to hold on the the good days. As you have said you had many good years with him. You don’t have to let the last year turn you bitter… it is just part of the journey. Grief how you want, there is no book. Always on your side sweet friend and always here to listen and encourage. Hang in there.. Julie

    Liked by 1 person

  4. It is a death! You feel how you feel and there’s nothing wrong with that. I’ve said many times since being diagnosed with RSD, lupus and others, that if I had something more serious – something less “invisible” – people would get it. We’ve all said it/felt it/thought it. You’re not alone in that. Please allow yourself to feel it, whatever the day to day brings, and know that it’s your truth. It may not always be that way, but for now, that’s just where you are. Sending you gentle hugs & lots of good thoughts. Xoxo.

    Liked by 1 person

    • I am so grateful for your wise and comforting response. Thank you for the reminder that this is for a season and I won’t always feel so strongly about this.
      And RSD/CRPS and Lupus are very serious, even if those around you are ignorant to what they can do to your body and life. Wishing you strength for your journey xo

      Liked by 1 person

  5. Just Plain Ol' Vic

    It’s tough now but I speak from experience, you can make it through it all and come out the other side a stronger person.

    Liked by 1 person

    • Thank you, Vic. I appreciate your words of wisdom and experience. I know I’m walking a path many have carved out before me, and it gives me great encouragement.
      Time and faith have already been very healing thus far.

      Liked by 1 person

      • Just Plain Ol' Vic

        In a sense time does heal a lot of the raw emotions you are feeling now. Literally well over a decade after my divorce, I feel no enmity towards my ex-wife. There are good as well as bad memories, which are tempered by age. If nothing else, that troubling time period shaped me into the person that I am today, which I think has made me a better husband and father.

        Liked by 1 person

  6. Divorce is a death of a relationship and that’s hard especially when the other person is still around. Acknowledging and working through your emotions will help you find peace. There’s a saying that the deeper that sorrow carves into our being the more joy we can contain. Wishing you joy & peace. Lori

    Like

  7. In my opinion, you have every right to grieve this loss. And just as in grieving someone’s physical death, it is a process that will have good and bad days with good and bad memories. I wish there was a way to wipe away your pain, but I am here if you ever need a smile and a gentle hug ❤

    Liked by 1 person

    • You’re so right, Kathleen. Grief is complicated, no matter what the loss is. Thank you for being a good friend and always bringing me comfort ❤ I hope today is a good day for you. Gentle hug on its way back to you!

      Liked by 1 person

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