You know that the problem is you.
My divorce was easy.
Not for me. For me the journey was hellish, the day itself felt like I was drowning, but comparatively. Divorces are not like other break-ups; they are deeper, more intense, a death. I have spent my whole life one-upping everyone else in my head (my childhood was worse, my boyfriend was worse, anything you can do, etc) but I am not so self-involved that I can't step back and see that without children, without property, without a clear-cut victim, that my divorce was easy.
All I had to do was own up to my mistakes. All I had to do was: accept I was having an affair with a stupid terrible man to avoid addressing any actual problems in my life; admit I was having an affair to my husband; find out he was also having an affair and that he had been for the duration of our decade long relationship; decide to end our relationship; and create a plan for living a solo life.
I had never been solo before.
I had never even really been single.
My entire life I had either been committed the to well-being of another person or scraping by in survival mode. I lived with my emotionally oppressive mother until I was 16, then relied on the immense kindness of various other friends' families to house me and keep me safe until I was 19. From there, I shacked up with a boyfriend/ got an apartment with a friend/ resumed shacking/ moved it with another friend, and finally landed in the long-term relationship that would lead to my doomed marriage. I never made much money, always less than the men in my life, and wasn't programmed to make intelligent financial decisions. By the time I set out on my own, I had over $20,000 in credit card debt and not a lot to show for it. One of my ex-husband's smartest moves to control me was hiding how much money he actually earned from me, keeping our finances totally separate, making all the money decisions, and not assisting me in paying off my debts.
So there I am, Spring 2010, 30 years old with no savings, without a set of my own pots or pans or dishes, with a modest salary my calculations told me I could possibly barely scrape by on if nothing bad ever happened. No family to fall back on, no longer a wayward child who could crash on a couch or in the basement somewhere. It was up to me.
Sometimes life feels like a movie, where plot points just develop, and things fall in place neatly and cleanly. The man with whom I betrayed my husband lived in the Lehigh Valley area of PA (we lived around Cherry Hill, NJ). I spent enough time there that it wasn't an entirely new and strange place, so when a job opportunity presented itself there I wasn't adverse to applying. I told myself I'd at least have one person to hang out with there (within 3 months of my move we were no longer speaking). My boss was excited about promoting me, but skeptical that I'd want to return to NJ and my old life at some point. I assured him me and my man were done, that I had no qualms about being an hour away from familiarity, and I started the process of starting completely over. With my increased salary, I had more confidence and more options. I found a one bedroom apartment around the corner from the mall, I bought plates and cups with multi-colored octopuses on them, I decided red was my favorite color, I added a shitton to the debt-pile. Strong male friends helped me move and set up my electronics. Then everyone left, and I was alone.
Work consumed me; I stayed at my store hours longer than I was scheduled. When I came home, NCIS and Daniel Tosh were my roommates. I had chosen a sofa bed, where I slept for months, making my bedroom semi-useless, creating the feeling that I was staying at a hotel. On Fridays, when my friend Dan always had people over for a movie hang out night, I cried and cried. I mourned the loss of everything. When I envisioned it in my head, living alone was chill- pizza every night, always a great movie on tv, friends I magically made (maybe nerd neighbors to play D&D with), cool new hobbies. As it turned out, without a boyfriend as a beacon I was lost; I didn't know what I wanted to do with my own time. I never really had to consider it before. I also had to be careful with my cash, so I couldn't really embrace anything. Without friends to spend time with, I felt like I would be alone forever. I was miserable. It's no surprise that I wasted no time rushing into another relationship, it was a clusterfuck of astronomical proportions, and only exacerbated many of my issues. The guy lived in NJ, was emotionally distant, and didn't ever want to come to PA. I journeyed to NJ as often as I could, and spent a fortune on gas and events for us. Things got worse over time, but in the beginning we sure did have some fun. Thankfully we are still friends.
In January 2012, I decided I needed to get divorced. I hated seeing his name snuggled up next to mine; I felt strange being legally attached to someone. I felt like property. There was an issue with a Jeep of his that was in my name, and I was resentful this ongoing situation was still my problem. My ex-husband (lets call him Satan, because we did) and I had kept in touch, off and on. I would visit my cat at his place, we went to dinner a few times. Some part of my felt good about this ("I have salvaged a friendship from this, we just weren't meant to be") and part of me knew it was unhealthy ("this guy's name is Satan for a reason, you cannot trust him in any capacity"), and I realized I needed an ending. I cannot remember my conversation with him about it. He has always (and still does) made me feel guilty for walking away; he would have you believe his love for me is pure and eternal. I don't think he gave me a particularly hard time about it though; he was probably thankful his role was so limited. This was one of my many stresses- all of the work was my responsibility. I went to the Divorce Center and paid $650 of my own money. I filled out confusing legal documents in triplicate. I went to the notary, the courthouse, the notary, the courthouse. I filed, I waited. Anxiety kept me from getting through the process for weeks. I was frightened of submitting false inaccurate information; I was concerned my request would be denied. I was not looking forward to changing my name again, of explaining myself repeatedly. It never occurred to me to have anyone look over it with me. I guess I was getting used to being alone after all.
I did ask my boyfriend to come with me; he didn't. Later he defensively said he couldn't possibly have taken off of work. Satan certainly didn't go. So, the court appearance was on a Wednesday morning. I drove from PA to NJ after work Tuesday, arriving at my BF's around 10:30pm. He was playing World of Warcraft and barely acknowledged I had shown up. I sat in the living room watching tv, wondering what kind of person wouldn't think to be comforting their (girl)friend on the eve of such a momentous emotional occasion. The next morning he seemed supportive, telling me to keep in touch throughout the day, and that we would go out to dinner to celebrate after. The whole issue was black and white to him; for me, all greys. This sounds insincere considering my transgression, but I took my vows seriously. The intent was never to back down, to give up. Many people think we cancelled each other out, and neither had a right to be mad at the other. This isn't true. I did try to make things better before I self-medicated with another man. I know ultimately leaving was the right thing to do for my survival, but I despise that I had to take that road. I resent it. I hate that I wasn't wiser, stronger, when I was 22.
My trip to the courthouse that late April morning was a combination of almost everything that makes me panic: fear of getting lost; possibly parallel parking/ parking illegally; official business; being alone. I worried I'd be late, be at the wrong building, go in the wrong room, say the wrong thing. There was no one to hold my hand, to think for me, to speak for me. I do not know how I arrived at the right place at the right time- I felt like I was blind as I drove.
I can't do justice to this feeling with my words. There was nothing but the pounding of my heart for 20 minutes; I don't even think I breathed. It was the most harrowing mundane experience I can imagine. Suddenly I was there, and I was inside, and I was sitting in a chair outside a set of tall thick double wooden doors. People kept disappearing behind them, emerging minutes later as new people. Would I enter there, shed my skin, and spend the rest of the day flashing my fresh scales? Would I go in and be swallowed? Would I be judged?
Finally my turn. Simple questions yet I tripped over answers. Irreconcilable differences; no children; returning to my maiden name. And it was over. Quietly, no fan fare. A gavel bang and I was divorced.
And I've been divorced ever since.
An invisible badge. The culmination of so many fuck ups. Springboard to better things.
It was awful. But still. I escaped. I survived, and flourished.
Now that is's years behind me, I can tell you it was easy.
Not for me. For me the journey was hellish, the day itself felt like I was drowning, but comparatively. Divorces are not like other break-ups; they are deeper, more intense, a death. I have spent my whole life one-upping everyone else in my head (my childhood was worse, my boyfriend was worse, anything you can do, etc) but I am not so self-involved that I can't step back and see that without children, without property, without a clear-cut victim, that my divorce was easy.
All I had to do was own up to my mistakes. All I had to do was: accept I was having an affair with a stupid terrible man to avoid addressing any actual problems in my life; admit I was having an affair to my husband; find out he was also having an affair and that he had been for the duration of our decade long relationship; decide to end our relationship; and create a plan for living a solo life.
I had never been solo before.
I had never even really been single.
My entire life I had either been committed the to well-being of another person or scraping by in survival mode. I lived with my emotionally oppressive mother until I was 16, then relied on the immense kindness of various other friends' families to house me and keep me safe until I was 19. From there, I shacked up with a boyfriend/ got an apartment with a friend/ resumed shacking/ moved it with another friend, and finally landed in the long-term relationship that would lead to my doomed marriage. I never made much money, always less than the men in my life, and wasn't programmed to make intelligent financial decisions. By the time I set out on my own, I had over $20,000 in credit card debt and not a lot to show for it. One of my ex-husband's smartest moves to control me was hiding how much money he actually earned from me, keeping our finances totally separate, making all the money decisions, and not assisting me in paying off my debts.
So there I am, Spring 2010, 30 years old with no savings, without a set of my own pots or pans or dishes, with a modest salary my calculations told me I could possibly barely scrape by on if nothing bad ever happened. No family to fall back on, no longer a wayward child who could crash on a couch or in the basement somewhere. It was up to me.
Sometimes life feels like a movie, where plot points just develop, and things fall in place neatly and cleanly. The man with whom I betrayed my husband lived in the Lehigh Valley area of PA (we lived around Cherry Hill, NJ). I spent enough time there that it wasn't an entirely new and strange place, so when a job opportunity presented itself there I wasn't adverse to applying. I told myself I'd at least have one person to hang out with there (within 3 months of my move we were no longer speaking). My boss was excited about promoting me, but skeptical that I'd want to return to NJ and my old life at some point. I assured him me and my man were done, that I had no qualms about being an hour away from familiarity, and I started the process of starting completely over. With my increased salary, I had more confidence and more options. I found a one bedroom apartment around the corner from the mall, I bought plates and cups with multi-colored octopuses on them, I decided red was my favorite color, I added a shitton to the debt-pile. Strong male friends helped me move and set up my electronics. Then everyone left, and I was alone.
Work consumed me; I stayed at my store hours longer than I was scheduled. When I came home, NCIS and Daniel Tosh were my roommates. I had chosen a sofa bed, where I slept for months, making my bedroom semi-useless, creating the feeling that I was staying at a hotel. On Fridays, when my friend Dan always had people over for a movie hang out night, I cried and cried. I mourned the loss of everything. When I envisioned it in my head, living alone was chill- pizza every night, always a great movie on tv, friends I magically made (maybe nerd neighbors to play D&D with), cool new hobbies. As it turned out, without a boyfriend as a beacon I was lost; I didn't know what I wanted to do with my own time. I never really had to consider it before. I also had to be careful with my cash, so I couldn't really embrace anything. Without friends to spend time with, I felt like I would be alone forever. I was miserable. It's no surprise that I wasted no time rushing into another relationship, it was a clusterfuck of astronomical proportions, and only exacerbated many of my issues. The guy lived in NJ, was emotionally distant, and didn't ever want to come to PA. I journeyed to NJ as often as I could, and spent a fortune on gas and events for us. Things got worse over time, but in the beginning we sure did have some fun. Thankfully we are still friends.
In January 2012, I decided I needed to get divorced. I hated seeing his name snuggled up next to mine; I felt strange being legally attached to someone. I felt like property. There was an issue with a Jeep of his that was in my name, and I was resentful this ongoing situation was still my problem. My ex-husband (lets call him Satan, because we did) and I had kept in touch, off and on. I would visit my cat at his place, we went to dinner a few times. Some part of my felt good about this ("I have salvaged a friendship from this, we just weren't meant to be") and part of me knew it was unhealthy ("this guy's name is Satan for a reason, you cannot trust him in any capacity"), and I realized I needed an ending. I cannot remember my conversation with him about it. He has always (and still does) made me feel guilty for walking away; he would have you believe his love for me is pure and eternal. I don't think he gave me a particularly hard time about it though; he was probably thankful his role was so limited. This was one of my many stresses- all of the work was my responsibility. I went to the Divorce Center and paid $650 of my own money. I filled out confusing legal documents in triplicate. I went to the notary, the courthouse, the notary, the courthouse. I filed, I waited. Anxiety kept me from getting through the process for weeks. I was frightened of submitting false inaccurate information; I was concerned my request would be denied. I was not looking forward to changing my name again, of explaining myself repeatedly. It never occurred to me to have anyone look over it with me. I guess I was getting used to being alone after all.
I did ask my boyfriend to come with me; he didn't. Later he defensively said he couldn't possibly have taken off of work. Satan certainly didn't go. So, the court appearance was on a Wednesday morning. I drove from PA to NJ after work Tuesday, arriving at my BF's around 10:30pm. He was playing World of Warcraft and barely acknowledged I had shown up. I sat in the living room watching tv, wondering what kind of person wouldn't think to be comforting their (girl)friend on the eve of such a momentous emotional occasion. The next morning he seemed supportive, telling me to keep in touch throughout the day, and that we would go out to dinner to celebrate after. The whole issue was black and white to him; for me, all greys. This sounds insincere considering my transgression, but I took my vows seriously. The intent was never to back down, to give up. Many people think we cancelled each other out, and neither had a right to be mad at the other. This isn't true. I did try to make things better before I self-medicated with another man. I know ultimately leaving was the right thing to do for my survival, but I despise that I had to take that road. I resent it. I hate that I wasn't wiser, stronger, when I was 22.
My trip to the courthouse that late April morning was a combination of almost everything that makes me panic: fear of getting lost; possibly parallel parking/ parking illegally; official business; being alone. I worried I'd be late, be at the wrong building, go in the wrong room, say the wrong thing. There was no one to hold my hand, to think for me, to speak for me. I do not know how I arrived at the right place at the right time- I felt like I was blind as I drove.
I can't do justice to this feeling with my words. There was nothing but the pounding of my heart for 20 minutes; I don't even think I breathed. It was the most harrowing mundane experience I can imagine. Suddenly I was there, and I was inside, and I was sitting in a chair outside a set of tall thick double wooden doors. People kept disappearing behind them, emerging minutes later as new people. Would I enter there, shed my skin, and spend the rest of the day flashing my fresh scales? Would I go in and be swallowed? Would I be judged?
Finally my turn. Simple questions yet I tripped over answers. Irreconcilable differences; no children; returning to my maiden name. And it was over. Quietly, no fan fare. A gavel bang and I was divorced.
And I've been divorced ever since.
An invisible badge. The culmination of so many fuck ups. Springboard to better things.
It was awful. But still. I escaped. I survived, and flourished.
Now that is's years behind me, I can tell you it was easy.