So it has been 9 months since my husband and I parted ways. For us it was not a gradual thing. Well, maybe for him it was….
[I’m going to get through this without talking about his personal details.]
On my end, I knew he had been struggling all year, and I was trying to be uplifting. One day, I was texting him love messages, silly photos (which are now just embarrassing), funny videos, and anything to try to help him smile at work. The very next day, I was living at my parents’, confused, and unsure what happened the day before, or why.
I don’t remember much about that conversation after he got home. I do remember messaging a friend in a daze asking what I should take with me, and Google searching
: “what do you take in case of a fire.”
In some ways, 9 months has flown by, and in other ways, it has dragged on much too slowly. It has felt impossible at times for my heart to catch up to all that has occurred, the choices that were no longer mine to make, the quickly unraveling dreams that were out of my control. I was often reminded that I had experience with surrendering, and making peace with pain, and could do it again if forced to. (I think people with disabilities are resilient in that way, and though it feels like every day is a fight, we learn adaptability which is a gift!) On the other hand, I felt continually impatient. If you have ever waited for test results that would almost surely come back with an outcome you don’t want to hear, something within you cannot help but crave the knowledge of it, no matter how bad. Almost like the tree of good and evil. Waiting was like an itch I couldn’t scratch. A part of me wanted to know my future in certain terms, and with immediacy. The rest of me was at peace to wait a lifetime in limbo, however impractical that would be.
That afternoon was our last conversation as husband and wife; I didn’t know it was goodbye at the time. You may remember, I wrote A Season of Waiting just after. Now you know the inspiration behind the message.
And while so many months can seem like a very long time, with a new life emerging beneath me, there are still huge landmines that explode in my face when I least expect it. Several exploded from the mail box right after breakfast this morning. It was a hard day, but not the first, not the last, and I’ve certainly not seen the last good day either. The “process” ended just last month, but THIS process is only beginning.
I’m trying to grow accustomed to managing life on my own. …Without having someone to share these pitfalls and triumphs with. Loss and heartbreak is certainly not new to humans; and I will adjust to it better and better. I confide in God, and it is incredibly humbling to share my worries with the creator of the universe.
I’m thankful to be ending my day with you, eating bacon and drinking chocolate coconut milk. (I get to eat that kind of thing, because I have POTS… at least that’s my story.) That IS my story… at least part of it.
Have a good night. And avoid those landmines.
New page, Disabled and Divorced
PS, Check out the counter for my sister’s wedding at the bottom of the page. Getting close!
You read my blog. And you might read my tweets. You might even know me on facebook or in a support group. But, chances are, you probably don’t know what has been going on in my life this past year. For the next month, I’m going to crack the lid off of my mess. For better or worse…
That last line is ironic for more than one reason.
My husband of 14 years divorced me just last month. And, my sister is about to get married this month. Oh, how the universe laughs at us!
What else? You probably know that I have had chronic pain for the last 11 years, and then 4, going on 5 years ago, I became bedbound due to a failed procedure causing several other chronic illnesses. I’ve had to fight for my life, my pain has been…I can’t find an adjective to describe this pain…and the illness I experience is like every part of my body is at war with itself.
What’s new with my health? I am in home physical therapy, I’ve hired a home care professional, and I believe I am beginning on a slow, steep path to “recovery.”
I haven’t been physically able to tolerate more than whispering sound and very low light for years, nor have I been able to walk outside, walk unassisted, sit upright, or stand up completely without passing out, but I am planning on attending my sister’s wedding ceremony at the end of the month!
Yes, please take that in.
This will be the first time I have left the house, except for being taken to the doctor or emergency hospital visits in over 4 years…and I will be my sister’s maid of honor. It’s huge, and it has been an amazing motivation for me. Now that the day is getting so close, I admit, my determination and excitement is wavering as reality is sinking in.
As I prepare for the coming wedding: mentally, physically, and emotionally, I will also be dipping my baby toe into the divorce, my loss, the transition, and possibly, at times, wholly plunging into those bubbling emotional waters- once I start writing, who knows what will happen!
This has never been a journal-type blog, but for at least this month, I am going there. You are invited, if you want to come with.
New page, DisabledandDivorced just launched.