As cliché as it may sound—life never goes as planned. We all envision different scenarios for ourselves, in my case it was the white picket fence, a 9-5 job, the husband and 2.5 kids. Coming from a person who is constantly seeking adventure and excitement, I secretly wanted simplicity—and I was well on my way to getting it. But life tends to throw curve balls your way when you least expect it, and it ruins that daydream you felt was just at your fingertips.
Almost two years ago—right after my father’s funeral might I add—my (now ex) husband uttered the four words I would have never imagined; I want a divorce. Shit right? Well I won’t get into details as to the why unless I want to channel my inner Katniss Everdeen and start a revolution in the name of all scorned women. I’m sure you can put the pieces together, but I do want to talk about the afterwards. It was such a daze for me because to make matters worse, I’m not really an emotional person. I know, it sounds like another cliché but I swear it’s something in my DNA. The only way I could get a proper reaction was from watching P.S. I Love You on repeat with a bowl of Chunky Monkey ice cream—and let’s be honest, Gerard Butler had cancer, it doesn’t count! But I digress. I had a hard time either way when I moved back home feeling like a failure. Another statistic. And being the prideful person that I am, it was a hard pill to swallow.
For the first two months, I uncharacteristically called and texted him as if we were still together. Worried he’d forget to pay a bill or do laundry—still in wifey mode. And I thought maybe he was just going through some crisis and didn’t really mean “it.” Yeah…you know those girls on TV that always go back to their loser boyfriends that treat them like crap but they love him anyways? That was totally me! After two months of holding on to whatever scraps, it hit me like a slap in the face. When did I become so weak? When did I ever need him (theoretically speaking) to survive? I’ve always been such a strong and independent women, that when I had looked in the mirror, I could no longer recognize that stranger in front of me. I let him take my power away, unbeknownst to him, and I had to get it back. Now I know that sounds all New-Agey and stuff, but it’s true, I let him take who I was and it was stupid of me.
Now let’s all fist pump the air in unison for girl-power—hell hath no fury like a women scorned!
Okay, I’m going overboard but that was kind of how the next month went. I became the stereotypical “feminist” and man-hater. All I have to say to that is…it was a dark time. So I needed clarity. I had to find something to get me over this rut I was in. I felt like this was all just some cosmic joke and the universe was out to get me. Yes, I’m very dramatic, but what had I done to deserve such cruel unfairness? I pay my taxes damnit!
What I’ve learned from the multitude of questions I screamed at to the man upstairs, is this: shit happens. At the moment, it may feel like the worst to ever happen. That all your dreams are dissolved and things will never get better. But it’s all momentary.
“Throw me to the wolves, and I’ll come back leading the Pack.”
We’ve all heard that saying, and it seems silly and juvenile—but it was just what I needed to get back up. I had always thought myself to be invincible, an arrogance that eventually came to bite me in the ass. So instead of hating the world, and stalking him on Facebook, I did the next best thing…I started to read. Wow, that was so anticlimactic. But seriously, I immersed myself in books and got lost in different worlds that made me forget about my woes in real life. And once I read myself into a migraine from straining my eyes so much, I did what I do best—I started to write again. Now I’ll never publish these works, but I wrote my ex into multiple plot lines and killed him off in different and very painful ways—it was very therapeutic. Some of you might think of me as immature but eh, who cares, it was my way of detoxing. Once it was over, I went from thinking about the D word every day, to every couple of days, to weeks, to months, and well you get the picture. It’s almost nonexistent now. Not that I’ll forget, but it isn’t a hurt that I carry in my heart anymore. I’ve found peace.
I get this question every time, “do you regret marrying him?” And my answer, no matter what my mood, is no. Does it sometimes feel like I’ve wasted years on something that was never meant to be? Yeah, but I learned so much about myself that I wouldn’t know if I hadn’t gone through this. In the aftermath, I’m stronger than ever—I know what I want and I’m not taking anything less. (insert fist pump here)
Some of you may be going through a divorce or a break up and let me start by saying that we all handle things differently. What works for me, might not work for you, but that’s okay. Find your niche and run with it. You may not discover it today or tomorrow, but don’t give up, sometimes things come to us when we least expect it.
Have you found your cure for the Divorce Blues? Tweet us @DirtyandThirty & @TweetsByKarina