It’s been a crazy 36 hours.
I got divorced yesterday. At 8:30 in the morning.
I found myself sitting next to a complete stranger; a person I might have thought was cute had I passed him on the street, but still, a stranger. This person sitting next to me on the bench felt oddly familiar at times. His voice, his mannerisms, his clothes (I think I bought the pants he was wearing), those were like distant memories of someone I used to know. Someone I used to love. That person is long gone.
The only difficult part of the actual proceeding was having to answer this question:
“Do you believe this marriage to be irrevocably broken?”
It hurt like a knife twisted in my belly when he answered ‘yes’ right after I did.
But it’s the truth. The marriage is broken. There is no going back after what transpired last year. There is no hope for reconciliation, no arms wide open running toward each other in an open field. It is done.
There is closure. I like that part. There is empowerment; I will never be beholden to another man, ever again. There is a future filled with hope and endless possibilities. I get my name back!! The name that my parents gave me when I was born. My last name that was a part of my identity for the first 30 years of my life. The same last name that my dad had.
But, for the most part, it is bitter-sweet. There is no more family. My kids now come from a ‘broken home’. The children are the only real victims here and there is literally nothing I can do to fix that; to make it better. They will spend half of their lives with me and half with their dad. HALF! I grew those two perfect humans inside of my body. I pushed them out after a combined total of 30 hours of labor. My son weighed 9.1 pounds! My daughter weighed 9.14 pounds! You are telling me I get half of their precious lives?! BULLFUCKINGSHIT. They say that the baby leaves behind some of its cells in the mother after it is born. Parts of them live inside of me and this feels like the universe’s most powerful gift.
I am never really alone. They are always with me.
I am coming to realize that the family piece is what held us together for so long. It became the most important piece of our puzzle until it couldn’t hold us together any longer. And we broke.
A few weeks ago, I was explaining to the kids that their mom and dad just don’t fit together anymore. My son replied: “It’s like a puzzle. You had all the pieces when you met. Then you lost one. And the puzzle broke. And maybe you’ll find it someday. But maybe you won’t.”