Here's a tip: Don't clean out your closet after drawing up your divorce papers. Just...don't.
Worst idea of my life.
That was on Monday, today is Wednesday. My husband just left to pay the attorney and sign the paperwork...they are filing the papers today. Our divorce should go through around July 31st, a few days after our 11th wedding anniversary. That was the trigger, that was what got me on Monday; looking at the calendar and seeing that.
Anyway, back to Monday. My phone was missing, as I tuck it away somewhere so the baby doesn't get to it. It was my brand new phone, too. I dropped my other one in the Etowah River a couple weeks when I brought the big kids river tubing.
The last place I remember putting it was in my closet, but my search was fruitless. I had been meaning to go through the closet anyway, getting my work clothes ready and everything, so I decided to throw all of my clothes on the bed and re-fold them all and get organized, and hopefully, find my phone in the process.
It didn't take long before I found my maternity clothes. I was balling. Really, I was. Balling. Not because I want another baby, or can't have another baby, but because it reminded me of one of the happiest times of my life. Being pregnant, and growing our family, and decorating nurseries, and making organic lactation muffins and freezing them, and thinking of names (I still love Atticus and Daisy). It was a time of my life when I was on top of the world, and everything was just about perfect, and divorce was the furthest thing on my mind.
Then I found the knitted caps my husband bought me last Spring, before I lost my hair. ''Look, they are cool! They are beanie hats, and look adorable on you.'' He tried, in his way. He really did.
Then I found my braids. I used to wear little braids in my hair, and I cut three off before I buzzed my head, one for each of my kids. In case I didn't make it. They still smelled like my shampoo and everything. I was really balling now.
Then I found my old clothes from I lived in England. I worked in an office for a year while there, and they were my ''business casual'' clothes from Top Shop and Primark and River Island and Zara. I loved the fashion in London, and shopping in Kensington and Camden Market. We used to rendezvous after work for drinks at the pub and a trip to the movies. Sigh...
Then I found our wedding album, and my old passport book with my International Vaccination Certificate and stamp from July 31, 2007, when we flew to London after our wedding in New York. July 31, 2018 and we should be divorced. Ugh. I was really a mess now.
It gets worse. It actually gets worse.
Then I found my late brother's shirt. It was one I chose specifically when I went through his things after his funeral. It felt weird, like I was invading his privacy. It felt weird sitting on the bed that he had died in a few days earlier, going through his things like that. It really fucked with me. Anyway, I chose that shirt because I remember him wearing it once when I visited. I still remember him smiling in it.
So there I was, folding clothes, cardigans here, tee-shirts there, crying my eyes out.
I looked around our bedroom lovingly at the crown molding my husband put in, and the pale green color we chose for the walls, and the burlap tufted headboard we picked out. I looked out at the lake, and remembered the pale green Moses basket my in-laws brought from England before our last baby was born. I used to have his basket perched in front of the window, and rock him to sleep while looking out that window at the lake and thinking how lucky I was, to have this perfect baby in this perfect house with this perfect life.
And now I am walking away. I am walking the fuck away from this life I made for myself.
And another woman will probably end up living in my house, the one I found. I still remember we drove there on a cold March night after my husband came in from work, and it was raining and dark. Is that a lake down there?, we wondered as we peered through the trees. We knew that would be our house, we just knew. Our kids, 1 and 3 at the time, called it ''The Rainbows House'', on account of the prisms that beamed in from the front door glass. It looked like rainbows on the steps.
We renovated it all, picking everything out together. We even built a cottage for the children in the backyard, and a little deck by the lake. We were going to make it like the ones we used to hang out on when we backpacked around Asia. We hosted many parties there, with ponies and petting zoos and giant inflatable water slides. We were going to grow old in this house together, and watch our grandchildren play here one day. And now I am leaving it behind to live in a house by myself for half of the week, with a dog and pink glass candlesticks and my books, and the knowing that I may end up all alone when I had a husband who loved me, in his own way.
God, what an idiot I am.
That night, I cried my eyes out some more. I didn't have my phone, the internet had been down for a week. I was just alone with my thoughts. No t.v., internet, phoning a friend. It wasn't pretty.
Maybe I am making a huge mistake. I even said as much to my husband. He said something to the effect of this is how I have been feeling for a long time, and how he has gotten used to the idea. He said that we are ending on a good note, with a wonderful dream vacation on Marco Island, and happy memories playing on the beach with our children. It is better than letting resentment grow, and anomosity fester, and begin to be annoyed with each other. We still want to spend a lot of time together as a family, and want to continue to enjoy each other's company.
''This would be so much easier if we hated each other'', he said. He was right. It really would be.
It's hard to walk away from your best friend after 11 years of marriage, where you've hardly had a fight. It's hard to walk away when you still love each other. It's just not the kind of love I need.
''Are you taking the KitchenAid mixer?'' he asked before we went to the attorney.
''Yes, it was my birthday gift when I turned 25, remember? I am leaving the KitchenAid electric tea kettle, though.'' British people love electric tea kettles.
''Really? That's nice of you. What will you have then?''.
''A whistling one. Like I used to have before we got married.''
''I could see it now; you, in your cottage, with your dog and your whistling tea kettle. Wow, that's going to be so cute.''
The way he said, with happiness, affected me somehow. I guess it was how he could envision me in my own house, and that made him happy. It used to make him sad, when we tossed the idea around a few months ago. But now, he seemed okay with it. I guess I always figured that he would never be able to envision his life without me, and the fact that he could saddened me in a way.
When I would get upset, I would think of the cottage, and Poe, and the whistling tea kettle. I was trying to make it my happy place I guess.
Suddenly Poe and whistling tea kettles and pink glass candlesticks didn't matter so much anymore. I just wanted my old life back, before I had cancer. I wish I never had stupid cancer, and it never made me see things I cannot unsee, and feel things I cannot unfeel. I wish I wasn't so broken and fucked up.
Earlier that day, on the way to the attorney, we stopped at our local bagel shop. We are regulars there, the owner even hugs me every time I come. There was a 20-something guy behind the counter I never paid much mind to, until he said something to me about my hair. ''Excuse me?'', I said. I wasn't paying attention.
''Your hair. It's growing in nicely. I mean, it looks nice.''
It's growing in nicely. It made me feel weird, I guess, that a person whom I haven't paid much mind to was following my hair growth. It reminded me of last summer, when I would go to pay for a meal at restaurant, only to find that a stranger picked up the tab. That happened about 10 times. I was so taken aback by the kindness of strangers, but hated knowing the reason they did was out of pity for me, since I clearly had cancer. I remember one day my husband and I went out for a date, and I was just about to have dessert. I didn't wear my headscarf because it was so hot, so I went bald. This older man approached and said, ''You look beautiful, being bald. Is it breast cancer, by any chance? My wife had that. She died, but I am sure you will be okay.'' It was one of the saddest moments of my life, when he said that. Knowing that people were looking at me. Feeling different. Anyway, when this bagel shop dude said that to me, it reminded me of that.
That evening I went out to buy food for a barbecue at home. I stopped by the hair aisle for shampoo and stuff, and saw flat irons. I decided to buy one. I decided I was sick of my stupid chemo curls. I guess I just wanted to feel like me again, in some way.
I straightened my hair, and came to a surprising discovery. It was as long as my shoulders. It had been growing this whole time, but because it was so curly I didn't even realize it.
Anyway, the flat iron kind of reminded me of myself. I am growing and evolving into this new person and even though it seems like my life is in shambles and the walls are closing in around me, down the road I may see that actually I have made tremendous progress. Maybe my life is just curled up right now, and I can't see the progress. That doesn't mean it isn't happening.
Just because you can't see something doesn't mean it isn't there.
That night, there was this most amazing sunset. It was pouring into the windows. I went down by the lake to take a few pictures, and it was gently raining with the fireflies coming out. Out of the blue, this majestic deer appeared out of our woods. Usually we don't see many deer in the summer, but that was the second one I had seen in a week or so. The other one was standing by the mailbox a few moments before a surprise letter arrived from a far-away friend. It was one of the most magical experiences I had ever had, the gentle rain and this incredible sunset and this majestic deer and these swarms of fireflies. It was beautiful.
My initial thought was, ''Wow, I really am an idiot to be leaving my home. An idiot.''
Then I thought about how life is full of unexpected surprises, like letters in the mailbox and deer in the summertime. It gave me a bit of hope, that there will be a wonderful surprise waiting for me, and that my life isn't in shambles after all. It is just in transition, and sometimes transitions hurt. A lot.
So here I am, on Wednesday, at home while my husband is paying the attorney as we speak.
The funny thing is, he complained about paying for the marriage counselor, deeming one visit enough. But he hasn't really complained about spending $3k for an attorney.
Whenever I have my doubts, as I sit here sobbing, I remember what brought me here. I even think about how he recently said, after being intimate and everything, as we discussed finances, ''Well, I did kind of get you out of a hole. When I met you, you were living in that tiny studio apartment.''
A hole? A hole?
Yes, when I met him, I didn't have much money. I worked two jobs, went to college at night, and had a tiny studio apartment. But it was clean and neat and decorated nicely and was mine.
I had very good friends, the kind who take you to IHOP for pumpkin pancakes on your birthday, and drive down to the beach listening to Toots and the Maytails with you, and jump on a train and head out to Greenwich Village for the day on a whim, and go camping in the mountains and drink Meade with at the Renaissance Faire.
I had brothers whom I was very close with, and my Grandma who was my best friend.
I left behind my life to marry my husband and move to England and build a new life, with him.
Sure, I didn't go to Paris or Australia or Egypt like he had done before he met me, but still, my life had meaning. And I left it all behind...for him. For us.
To be told 11 years later that he thought that life I had before him was equatable to a ''hole'' shook me to my core. It really, really did.
Especially after I lost a lot of friends over the years due to time and distance, and wasn't there for my Grandma as she died from dementia, or my brother when he was balling a drug addiction that would kill him. It almost felt like it was all for naught in a way, when he said that to me. He later said he was sorry, he isn't good with words. But you don't have to be good with words. That was really what he thought.
So, when I have doubts, I think about all of those little things, and how I never wanted to feel that way again. Not by him, not by anybody. He didn't say it to be malicious. He is actually a really nice, sweet, funny person. Very charming sometimes. That is just how he is. He says things and does things, little things, that hurt me. I think what breaks up most marriages isn't a big thing; it's just lots and lots of little things.
Friends, I am going through a hard time now. Truly. I know this is a good thing, ultimately, I know that I am fortunate to have had 11 wonderful years filled with memories and love. That's more than a lot of people ever get. I am fortunate that I will have an ex-husband who still loves me, and I love him, and we are devoted to being a family and raising our children together and giving them the amazing life that they deserve. We just aren't in love with each other anymore. And all of the flowers and Ferrer Rochers and spicy mushrooms and craft beer and eyes filled with tears in the world will change that.
I have a lot to look forward to; starting my new job, meeting my new students, looking for a new house, meeting new people on my trip to the Pacific Northwest, adopting a dog. Lots of excitement on the horizon. Really, I should be over the moon. I guess it is just a lot of ''new'' all at once.
I am mourning the person I was as I am welcoming the person I am becoming. It isn't easy letting go of something so beautiful and facing the unknown.
Please send me good vibes. Please send me a long distance hug. Please tell me I am going to be okay.
Much love. XO
"It's always darkest before the dawn''. Link below to ''Shake It Off'' by Florence and the Machine
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WbN0nX61rIs
Worst idea of my life.
That was on Monday, today is Wednesday. My husband just left to pay the attorney and sign the paperwork...they are filing the papers today. Our divorce should go through around July 31st, a few days after our 11th wedding anniversary. That was the trigger, that was what got me on Monday; looking at the calendar and seeing that.
 |
| Celebrating our 1st anniversary in the Cotswolds, U.K., July 2008 |
''Most people would write on their anniversary cards, 'Thanks for 11 years. I can't wait for 11 more!' while ours will say, 'Thanks for 11 years. We've had a good run. Good luck!' ''. He can be really funny when he wants to be.
Anyway, back to Monday. My phone was missing, as I tuck it away somewhere so the baby doesn't get to it. It was my brand new phone, too. I dropped my other one in the Etowah River a couple weeks when I brought the big kids river tubing.
The last place I remember putting it was in my closet, but my search was fruitless. I had been meaning to go through the closet anyway, getting my work clothes ready and everything, so I decided to throw all of my clothes on the bed and re-fold them all and get organized, and hopefully, find my phone in the process.
It didn't take long before I found my maternity clothes. I was balling. Really, I was. Balling. Not because I want another baby, or can't have another baby, but because it reminded me of one of the happiest times of my life. Being pregnant, and growing our family, and decorating nurseries, and making organic lactation muffins and freezing them, and thinking of names (I still love Atticus and Daisy). It was a time of my life when I was on top of the world, and everything was just about perfect, and divorce was the furthest thing on my mind.
 |
| Six months pregnant outside of our first apartment in Atlanta, March 2010 |
Then I found my braids. I used to wear little braids in my hair, and I cut three off before I buzzed my head, one for each of my kids. In case I didn't make it. They still smelled like my shampoo and everything. I was really balling now.
Then I found my old clothes from I lived in England. I worked in an office for a year while there, and they were my ''business casual'' clothes from Top Shop and Primark and River Island and Zara. I loved the fashion in London, and shopping in Kensington and Camden Market. We used to rendezvous after work for drinks at the pub and a trip to the movies. Sigh...
It gets worse. It actually gets worse.
Then I found my late brother's shirt. It was one I chose specifically when I went through his things after his funeral. It felt weird, like I was invading his privacy. It felt weird sitting on the bed that he had died in a few days earlier, going through his things like that. It really fucked with me. Anyway, I chose that shirt because I remember him wearing it once when I visited. I still remember him smiling in it.
So there I was, folding clothes, cardigans here, tee-shirts there, crying my eyes out.
I looked around our bedroom lovingly at the crown molding my husband put in, and the pale green color we chose for the walls, and the burlap tufted headboard we picked out. I looked out at the lake, and remembered the pale green Moses basket my in-laws brought from England before our last baby was born. I used to have his basket perched in front of the window, and rock him to sleep while looking out that window at the lake and thinking how lucky I was, to have this perfect baby in this perfect house with this perfect life.
And now I am walking away. I am walking the fuck away from this life I made for myself.
And another woman will probably end up living in my house, the one I found. I still remember we drove there on a cold March night after my husband came in from work, and it was raining and dark. Is that a lake down there?, we wondered as we peered through the trees. We knew that would be our house, we just knew. Our kids, 1 and 3 at the time, called it ''The Rainbows House'', on account of the prisms that beamed in from the front door glass. It looked like rainbows on the steps.
 |
| Before, 2015 |
 |
| After, 2017 |
God, what an idiot I am.
That night, I cried my eyes out some more. I didn't have my phone, the internet had been down for a week. I was just alone with my thoughts. No t.v., internet, phoning a friend. It wasn't pretty.
Maybe I am making a huge mistake. I even said as much to my husband. He said something to the effect of this is how I have been feeling for a long time, and how he has gotten used to the idea. He said that we are ending on a good note, with a wonderful dream vacation on Marco Island, and happy memories playing on the beach with our children. It is better than letting resentment grow, and anomosity fester, and begin to be annoyed with each other. We still want to spend a lot of time together as a family, and want to continue to enjoy each other's company.
 |
| My daughter looking at the lake from the porch of her cottage |
''This would be so much easier if we hated each other'', he said. He was right. It really would be.
It's hard to walk away from your best friend after 11 years of marriage, where you've hardly had a fight. It's hard to walk away when you still love each other. It's just not the kind of love I need.
''Are you taking the KitchenAid mixer?'' he asked before we went to the attorney.
''Yes, it was my birthday gift when I turned 25, remember? I am leaving the KitchenAid electric tea kettle, though.'' British people love electric tea kettles.
''Really? That's nice of you. What will you have then?''.
''A whistling one. Like I used to have before we got married.''
''I could see it now; you, in your cottage, with your dog and your whistling tea kettle. Wow, that's going to be so cute.''
The way he said, with happiness, affected me somehow. I guess it was how he could envision me in my own house, and that made him happy. It used to make him sad, when we tossed the idea around a few months ago. But now, he seemed okay with it. I guess I always figured that he would never be able to envision his life without me, and the fact that he could saddened me in a way.
When I would get upset, I would think of the cottage, and Poe, and the whistling tea kettle. I was trying to make it my happy place I guess.
Suddenly Poe and whistling tea kettles and pink glass candlesticks didn't matter so much anymore. I just wanted my old life back, before I had cancer. I wish I never had stupid cancer, and it never made me see things I cannot unsee, and feel things I cannot unfeel. I wish I wasn't so broken and fucked up.
 |
| Playing dragon with a broken tree climb in the backyard, 2018 |
''Your hair. It's growing in nicely. I mean, it looks nice.''
It's growing in nicely. It made me feel weird, I guess, that a person whom I haven't paid much mind to was following my hair growth. It reminded me of last summer, when I would go to pay for a meal at restaurant, only to find that a stranger picked up the tab. That happened about 10 times. I was so taken aback by the kindness of strangers, but hated knowing the reason they did was out of pity for me, since I clearly had cancer. I remember one day my husband and I went out for a date, and I was just about to have dessert. I didn't wear my headscarf because it was so hot, so I went bald. This older man approached and said, ''You look beautiful, being bald. Is it breast cancer, by any chance? My wife had that. She died, but I am sure you will be okay.'' It was one of the saddest moments of my life, when he said that. Knowing that people were looking at me. Feeling different. Anyway, when this bagel shop dude said that to me, it reminded me of that.
 |
| I didn't choose the headscarf life, the headscarf life chose me. Savannah, Georgia, July 2017 |
That evening I went out to buy food for a barbecue at home. I stopped by the hair aisle for shampoo and stuff, and saw flat irons. I decided to buy one. I decided I was sick of my stupid chemo curls. I guess I just wanted to feel like me again, in some way.
I straightened my hair, and came to a surprising discovery. It was as long as my shoulders. It had been growing this whole time, but because it was so curly I didn't even realize it.
Anyway, the flat iron kind of reminded me of myself. I am growing and evolving into this new person and even though it seems like my life is in shambles and the walls are closing in around me, down the road I may see that actually I have made tremendous progress. Maybe my life is just curled up right now, and I can't see the progress. That doesn't mean it isn't happening.
Just because you can't see something doesn't mean it isn't there.
My initial thought was, ''Wow, I really am an idiot to be leaving my home. An idiot.''
Then I thought about how life is full of unexpected surprises, like letters in the mailbox and deer in the summertime. It gave me a bit of hope, that there will be a wonderful surprise waiting for me, and that my life isn't in shambles after all. It is just in transition, and sometimes transitions hurt. A lot.
So here I am, on Wednesday, at home while my husband is paying the attorney as we speak.
The funny thing is, he complained about paying for the marriage counselor, deeming one visit enough. But he hasn't really complained about spending $3k for an attorney.
Whenever I have my doubts, as I sit here sobbing, I remember what brought me here. I even think about how he recently said, after being intimate and everything, as we discussed finances, ''Well, I did kind of get you out of a hole. When I met you, you were living in that tiny studio apartment.''
A hole? A hole?
Yes, when I met him, I didn't have much money. I worked two jobs, went to college at night, and had a tiny studio apartment. But it was clean and neat and decorated nicely and was mine.
I had very good friends, the kind who take you to IHOP for pumpkin pancakes on your birthday, and drive down to the beach listening to Toots and the Maytails with you, and jump on a train and head out to Greenwich Village for the day on a whim, and go camping in the mountains and drink Meade with at the Renaissance Faire.
 |
| Shortly before I was married and rescued from the ''hole''. Central Park, April 2007 |
I had brothers whom I was very close with, and my Grandma who was my best friend.
I left behind my life to marry my husband and move to England and build a new life, with him.
Sure, I didn't go to Paris or Australia or Egypt like he had done before he met me, but still, my life had meaning. And I left it all behind...for him. For us.
To be told 11 years later that he thought that life I had before him was equatable to a ''hole'' shook me to my core. It really, really did.
Especially after I lost a lot of friends over the years due to time and distance, and wasn't there for my Grandma as she died from dementia, or my brother when he was balling a drug addiction that would kill him. It almost felt like it was all for naught in a way, when he said that to me. He later said he was sorry, he isn't good with words. But you don't have to be good with words. That was really what he thought.
So, when I have doubts, I think about all of those little things, and how I never wanted to feel that way again. Not by him, not by anybody. He didn't say it to be malicious. He is actually a really nice, sweet, funny person. Very charming sometimes. That is just how he is. He says things and does things, little things, that hurt me. I think what breaks up most marriages isn't a big thing; it's just lots and lots of little things.
Friends, I am going through a hard time now. Truly. I know this is a good thing, ultimately, I know that I am fortunate to have had 11 wonderful years filled with memories and love. That's more than a lot of people ever get. I am fortunate that I will have an ex-husband who still loves me, and I love him, and we are devoted to being a family and raising our children together and giving them the amazing life that they deserve. We just aren't in love with each other anymore. And all of the flowers and Ferrer Rochers and spicy mushrooms and craft beer and eyes filled with tears in the world will change that.
I have a lot to look forward to; starting my new job, meeting my new students, looking for a new house, meeting new people on my trip to the Pacific Northwest, adopting a dog. Lots of excitement on the horizon. Really, I should be over the moon. I guess it is just a lot of ''new'' all at once.
I am mourning the person I was as I am welcoming the person I am becoming. It isn't easy letting go of something so beautiful and facing the unknown.
Please send me good vibes. Please send me a long distance hug. Please tell me I am going to be okay.
Much love. XO
"It's always darkest before the dawn''. Link below to ''Shake It Off'' by Florence and the Machine
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WbN0nX61rIs
I'm sorry for what you're going through. My heart goes out to you. I really wish that y'all could work things out. I know relationships are hard and can be painful at times. Something I heard once was that a successful marriage consists of two good forgivers. It sounds like y'all are on good terms. Anything is possible if you believe. I will pray for you and your family. I hope the very best for you all. God bless you. Jesus loves you. ❤
ReplyDeleteThanks, Hillary! That means a lot to me. :)
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