My First Morning as a Divorcee

It’s a strange feeling. Yesterday I was a married woman in the midst of a brutal divorce fight with all of my energy going to defending and protecting my children and myself.

Today I am a single Mom.

It feels surreal, like I’m walking on the battlefield after the battle, surrounded by carnage, the sounds of gunshots and clink of swords echoing around me. I’m covered in the blood and wounds of battle, and looking around at all the broken dreams and hopes around me, and my ears are muffled from the new silence after being assaulted over and over again by the war. We’ve been battling for so long. Is it really over? Or will he come back swinging for a surprise attack? Am I still standing? Am I still whole? Do I have wounds that are tearing me apart that I can’t see? I look at my hands, my arms, scan my body in slow motion.

Am I okay?

Yesterday in court the judge sent us out of the room over and over to change wording in our agreement. After four hours of this, I sat down next to my ex and finally laid my head on his shoulder. Even with all the betrayal and pain, he always had a good shoulder for my head. He put his arm around me and we sat, watching the judge and the bailiff and the movements around the courtroom like we were in a movie. He whispered, “If only you had let me be a little more me.” I whispered back, “If only you didn’t have a wandering weiner.”

We snickered like we were in 7^th grade and not two full-fledged grown-ups.

Finally, the judge looked at both of us and said, “An irretrievable breakdown of your marriage occurred and you agree that there is no hope of putting it back together?”

(Well, she said something like this.)

He said Yes.

I said Yes as the tears bubbled up.

Then she said, “I hereby grant your divorce.”

Like a Fairy godmother granting wishes, except she’s granting the worst wish ever—divorce and all the pain that goes with it.

If marriage represents two souls leaping into life together, with great love and devotion, with the brightest of hope that they will walk by each other sides for the rest of their lives, that they will love and cherish and be loyal and faithful to each other and grow old together and take care of each other—divorce is the opposite.

Divorce is despair, hopelessness, darkness and deep sadness.

The great dream is officially over.

We walked out into the courthouse hallway and collapsed in each other’s arms, sobbing, both of us saying “I didn’t want this.”

I never thought in a million years that I would ever end up married. I was happy being a glamorous aunt to my nieces and nephews, and I never wanted to depend on a man, partly because I was happy as I was and partly because my worst fear was being abandoned. I didn’t want to give my heart and soul to someone which I consider treasures, only to have them throw it all on the ground and stomp on it.

And I never thought in a million years I would end up divorced.

My heart and soul…

So I’m taking them back.

All these years, I had a sign over my front door that said , “Fairy Tales do come true” because my husband and children were my fairy tale. I couldn’t believe I had created something so beautiful, and for me, rare and precious. The three of them were my pinnacle in life, and I thought if I never do anything else with my life, it’s okay because I have this.

I threw the sign out in the trash after that horrible morning when it all fell apart.

And now it’s the next morning, and I’m walking in slow motion among the carnage. It will take some time to take it all in.

But I woke up this morning and ordered a new sign to put over my door.

Fairy Tales Do Come True.

I’m rewriting the fairy tale.

No sleeping princesses here. I’m awake.

No dwarves to mine for jewels for me. I’m doing the mining myself.

No bluebirds to do my dishes. I’m doing it myself.

If the castle was surrounded by thorns during divorce, they are now cut away, replaced by buds and blooms so beautiful I want to weep.

No prince is galloping in to rescue us.

But we don’t need rescuing, because I am here.

The only galloping and rescuing being done around here is being done by me.

And guess what?

I’m not afraid.

And so I invite blooming flowers and singing bluebirds into my home along with generosity and abundance, love, light and laughter, harmony and peace, justice and fairness, integrity and honesty and clarity…

Oh my goddess!

I can now have a home filled with these things that are so important to me.

The darkness is gone.

I can’t believe it.

As Anais Nin wrote so beautifully, “Last night I wept. I wept because the process by which I have become a woman was painful. I wept because I was no longer a child with a child’s blind faith. I wept because my eyes were opened to reality… I wept because I could not believe any longer and I love to believe. I can still love passionately without believing. That means I love humanly. I wept because I had lost my pain and I am not yet accustomed to its absence.”

And for the record, I still believe.