The Husbandectomy: Chapters One & Two -- The News, and The Healing Begins

Two weeks ago, a bomb fell on our house. Actually, it fell in our house, out of my husband's mouth. "I think I don't want to be married to you anymore."

You would have to picture the bluest sky you've ever seen, or the deepest prettiest tropical ocean, to understand the degree to which this came at me "out of the blue." 

We'd been having some marital issues, yes, but nothing marriage-ending. At least, in my mind. Evidently, not in his.

The details of our particular situation are less relevant than the immediate after-effects. The first two or three days were the worst. I just sort of stumbled around in a haze of disbelief. Here, in no particular order, are some of the profound (and not so profound) thoughts I had in the first 72 hours:

1. That bottle of Costco shampoo is probably going to outlast our marriage. (The bottle is only about one-third full.)

2. I never realized how terrible it truly is/was, when someone has, in the past, told me "I'm getting divorced." It's so common -- statistically marital odds are about 50:50 -- that it's easy to overlook how much damage those little words imply. I am not the same person I was three days ago. I may become that person again, but probably not for a long time.

3. Some people have the audacity to go on living normal (even happy!) lives while you're wallowing in grief. (Note to self: avoid Facebook, listening to the radio, and being out in public at all costs.)

4. You still have to go to work. And be functional. If you have kids (or dogs), you still have to care for them, like, feed 'em & stuff.

5. This can't really be happening.

There was a lot of #5. The five stages of grief: Denial, bargaining, anger, depression and acceptance. That may not be the original order, but it doesn't really matter because it turns out the stages aren't linear. They slide around your life and slam into you in random order and at random times, sometimes within the same thought or sentence.

If you are lucky, as I was, people you never even knew to be your friends will come out of the woodwork to support you. If nothing else, this experience has shown me the best of what humanity has to offer: compassion in a time of need.

I don't think I even realized how wrecked I was. But my friends did. They organized activities for me, and checked in on me, and brought me flowers. And food. And lots and lots of ears and shoulders to bend and lean on. And lean I did. Heavily.

However, like training wheels, there comes a time to not rely so heavily on support, and to stand on your own. Or at least try to, sometimes tentatively, at least at first. I am now moving into that time. And so, I see my friends running alongside me as I pedal furiously to keep myself upright, ready to catch me if I fall. But thanks to their love and support, I'm stronger every day.

Now I am realizing I must eventually be my own support, to care for myself the way I would throw support behind a friend of mine who was going through this.  So far, this is what seems to be working:

1. Yoga -- I'm not a huge yoga devotee, but I give it a lot of credit for helping ground me where I am at that moment. During a divorce, there's so much to do, so much to think about: changing the names on the title of the house, calling the attorney, who's gonna get the Calvin & Hobbes boxed book set? Yoga is a good exercise to teach the brain and body to just be in one place for an hour or so, instead of pinballing around to a million places in your overwhelmed and busy mind.

2. Meditation -- Same thing. Be where you are. Breathe. Experience the world but don't get too caught up in it. It's only ten or fifteen minutes a day. (I should've done this sooner.)

3. Write in a Journal -- I love to write, so this is quite indulgent, but it lets me spill all my thoughts out onto the page. And the time it takes to write them down as full sentences helps me to focus what I really mean by that sentence. Sometimes, by the end of the sentence, I realize I meant something else entirely.

4. Friends -- Use them. They want you to. It'll seem like you're doing all the talking, about you, all the time -- and you are. You'll hang up after talking to them for an hour and a half and then realize you never even asked, "But enough about me, how are you?" They won't care. It's an amazing experience, humbling and uplifting at the same time.

5. Exercise -- Yoga is sort of exercise, but not always the kind of "bash yourself against a wall until you're exhausted" activity your body might need to release some endorphins and clear some of the neurotic cobwebs you spin all day, sitting there in your depressed state of mind. Thirty minutes of cardio -- on a bike, on the trails, in a pool -- works wonders.

6. Dogs -- Use 'em. They are pure true beings, even when they're covered in dirt and mud. Perhaps especially when they're covered in dirt and mud. They live in the moment, and that's a lesson you need to learn right now: Focus on this moment. Sleep when you're tired. Eat when you're hungry. Don't be afraid to wag your tail a little, even if it sometimes feels like you will never again have another happy moment in your life. If you open yourself up, happy moments are all around, though they may seem a mere drop in the ocean of your sadness, they are still happy moments. The dogs can tell you where those moments are. And if you can't hear them, then hug them a little harder. Sometimes the secrets are buried deep in the fur of their neck.

7. Wine and chocolate -- Self-explanatory.

Of course, there's wiggle room here to include other things like therapy and support groups (if that's your thing… not mine). Or drugs, the legal kind, if you prefer. But those are things you may have to go find. I compiled my list because there was never a good reason I couldn't do at least two or three of these per day without even leaving the house, or changing out of my pajamas. 

It's important to stay positive. A friend posted a quote the other day, which I found to be quite profound: "Don't let your struggle become your identity." It's a slippery slope. You get a lot of strokes in being a victim. People coddle you and pet you and say nice things to boost your self-esteem. It can become addictive. After all, the person you loved perhaps most in the world just told you he doesn't want you anymore. It's hard not to take that personally. 

A little wallowing is to be expected, I think. But it doesn't do to wallow too long. It doesn't make the situation go away. When you wake up in the middle of the night, there's still the realization that he's not coming back. 

It's a new life now. And it helps (me, anyway) to counterbalance those feelings of fear and despair with something more positive like strength and determination. (Not hope. It's too early yet for hope.)

I am not healed. But I am healing. I have good moments and bad moments. I still sometimes think it's all a big misunderstanding. But, of course, it isn't. All I can do is stand up straight, keep my dignity, and continue looking forward.

How to Choose a New Haircut

You know those days when it's all you can do to keep yourself from grabbing a pair of scissors, twisting your hair into a ponytail and cutting it off right at the base, consequences be damned? Yeah, I've been having that day for about three months now.

It started (well, for some of us [women, especially] it doesn't ever REALLY go away) with the hot weather last summer. At least once a day, I'd find some strand of hair defying the ponytail and stuck with sweat (yes, I said it) uncomfortably to my neck or back or face. Of course, I was also saturated with bug dope and/or sunscreen at least 90% of my waking hours, helping add to the general stickiness of the situation.

Sleeping on a ponytail at night -- because the alternative was too heinous to consider -- found me greeting the mornings with a kinked neck and cranky attitude (as if the heat, plus 22 hours of daylight each day weren't enough).

I've also been swimming laps at the local YMCA this summer, so the little wispy escapee strands would drift around in the water, successfully evading my swim cap as well, ending up in my mouth or trapped under my goggles and tickling my eyes. Joyous, especially when I'm really focusing on minimizing swallowing the pool's water, what with all the kids in the YMCA pool.

So I've been thinking about cutting my hair. Short. Unfortunately, I hate to do anything with my hair. "Product"? What the hell is "product"? Go to the grocery store, and there are aisles and aisles of the stuff: gels, sprays, ... do they even make "mousse" anymore, or am I dating myself (again)?

First, I secured the OK from my spouse, because, after all, it is he who has to look at it every day. And I do know that my husband, like most men, do not put "short hair" and "sexy" together in the same sentence, at least not often.

(Maybe it's the horse.)

I'm not even sure this is a woman. In any case, the implication appears to at least want to be "sexy," though the only thing that remotely conveys that is the hair.

***

Of course, I want all sorts of impossible things from this haircut. Not only do I want it to be trendy, adorable, and easy to manage, as well as age-appropriate, but I also want it to give me a new lease on life. And maybe even mow the lawn.

Not surprisingly, I have a vague idea in my head of what this hairdo looks like. But it seems, at least in the past, I've had, ummm, "difficulty" communicating my ideas to a stylist. Certainly, I've come out of the chair in past experiences with a "Uhh.... no, that wasn't what I had in mind … at all" reaction. 

And it's kind of like finally deciding you want to buy a new car. Suddenly, every car on the street is being judged for its shape, color, wheels, styling…. The other day, I followed a woman around Costco for about 10 minutes just because I thought she had a good hairstyle. I was just about to ask her the name of her stylist when she caught me staring and glared at me, startling me into "run away" mode.

So I thought the magnificent omniscient, omnipotent (and certainly omnipresent!) inter-web could help. But where to start? "Best Hairstyles Over 40"? "… 50?" Not until November. Is my face oval or heart-shaped? Am I more of a Demi (square) or Reese (heart) or Gwyneth (oblong)? 

Gaaah! That's WAY too much looking in the mirror for one day! 

And of course, as we all know, you only get out of a computer what you put into it. Choose the wrong search terms and it can be, if not frustrating, then certainly amusing. Still, I was surprised that no matter what phrasing I typed into Google's little box, I couldn't find "it." I couldn't find an image of the 'do that would rock my (and everyone else's -- why aim low?) world.

I found some haircuts I feel like I've seen in every single styling book and magazine since I was, like, six years old and sat in the waiting room while my mom had her hair done:

(This one even has the psychedelic dots from the 60's. I'll bet this model is about 74 years old by now.)

(Sure it looks great the very first day, but as soon as the ends start to grow?)

Who gets their haircut like that? Even the style sections of the Sunday Times and Vanity Fair don't risk such avant-garde choices. Fashion Week in New York? Paris? Nope.

Then there are the perpetually frustrating Beautiful People who could drink a fifth of tequila in one sitting, then pick up a pair of dull scissors and still come out looking beautiful (That's right, Halle Berry and Natalie Portman, I'm talking to you!):

You can't even SEE her hair in this picture. But who cares, right? You know she looks great. -- Bitch.

I think this was right after Hugo Weaving cut her hair during "V for Vendetta." No touch-ups needed.

And somehow even this guy ended up on my page of "women's short hairstyles," though admittedly I can see how that might happen:

So, then I thought, shouldn't a competent hairdresser be able to help me out with this? Shouldn't s/he be able to look at me and say, "Oh, yes, dahling, a reverse asymmetrical cropped bob with some highlights would look gorgeous on you!" (OK, so my hairdresser is gay.) Alas, a Facebook failed to provide a clearcut recommendation for the Very Best Hairdresser in All of Alaska, so I continue to stew in my indecision.

So for now, the cowardly path of leaving it long is probably most appealing. I'll still end up paying a small fortune for a haircut no one will even notice ("Just a little shaping, please"), but at least I can have this same dilemma again three months from now.