It was so nice, wasn't it? So uplifting and positive and … sane. What I didn't know was that this was what was actually going on:
It turns out I was writing that first blog post from the top floor of the building shown above. I was wearing earbuds at the time, so I didn't hear the explosion or feel the vibration. What happened next is easy enough to predict:
A pile of rubble.
In no particular order, here are some of the more dramatic things that happened to me in the couple of weeks immediately following that first blog:
- hours of uncontrollable weeping every day and most nights
- weight loss of fifteen pounds in two weeks
- loss of sleep down to three or four hours a night
- bought a new sports car with no questions asked (I don't even know where the spare tire is)
- commission of a misdemeanor crime
- panic attack trip to the Urgent Care center
- many hours of therapy
- lots of drugs -- for nausea, anxiety, sleeping, hypertension
- lots of self-help books
In the first divorce blog, I was brass bravado: Fuck him! I'm awesome! I'm gonna be GREAT!
And then came Grief.
Like, real grief. Not "Oh, I'm sad my marriage fell apart"grief, but "Holy shit, I think I'm going to die -- I can't breathe" grief. And even though I feel much better now than I did even a couple weeks ago, I've been advised (by people who should know), I'm not done yet. There's more Grief lurking. And it will not be denied.
Funny thing about Grief: it will have its way with you, regardless of your plan or your strength or your resolution. I thought I was a tough chick -- bring it on, I can take it! How hard can it be? Suffice it to say, I was utterly unprepared for the steamroller that just moved over me and paralyzed me in its wake.
Of course, I'm not past it yet. A divorced friend said he read something that said you might spend up to a month grieving for every year you were married -- For me, that's sixteen months, a far cry from my current place on the timeline at a meager three months. So I must be patient and understanding and forgiving of myself -- none of which are particularly easy for me.
Fortunately, one of the self-help books I'm reading talks about Grief as a natural sequela to loss, but one not necessarily a reflection of the depth of love felt. I confess, that's been a comfort to me, as I initially thought my subconscious eruptions might've been an indication I was more attached to my ex than I even realized, which was substantial enough on its own. I worried it meant I would never get better. It's not an exaggeration to say that I stopped believing people when they told me "You will survive this." I wasn't so sure.
It's now been about nine weeks since I wrote the first blog, and about three months since he announced he was leaving… and left. Six weeks since the magistrate said she didn't see any objection so would approve our petition for divorce. I recently received the final papers in the mail. One hundred days ago I was married. Today I am divorced. An ex-wife. A member of the First Wives Club.
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| (When does the fun, smiling part start? Is it the cigars?) |
So, where am I now, psychologically & emotionally? Well, strangely enough, I'm sort of in the same place I was in at the end of the first blog. Moving forward. Administering self-care as needed (yoga, meditation, dog love, exercise).
However, it must be said that this experience, this trauma, has made me a humbler, more subdued survivor than I thought I was in the first blog. But that still makes me a survivor, nonetheless.
