Acceptance and Instant Karma

During the course of my life, I have endured the stages of grief many a time. Enough to know how to recognize them when they hit me like ferocious waves.

I have finally reached the acceptance stage.

Acceptance of my breast cancer.
Acceptance of never breastfeeding again.
Acceptance of losing my breasts. My hair.
Acceptance of the fear of recurrence stalking me like an invisible monster.

And, finally...
Acceptance of my divorce.

One day it just hit me; calm.

The sense of calm.

I stopped crying everyday. I stopped feeling angry, hurt, resentful.

I just let it all go, washed away with the waves.

I honestly don't know how I came to this point, it just...happened. I just woke up and felt like this.

Never in my life have felt more relief .

I think a solidifying factor for me was the continued discussion of the house, when my children's father said about them possibly having to change schools if I cannot afford a house in this area:

''Well, it's not exactly like they are coming home as geniuses. And we don't have parents ringing off the hook asking for playdates, either.''

Our children go to a great school with wonderful teachers and classmates. They love the annual movie night, and fall festival, and Field Day. Why should they have to change schools because their father won't offer to let us stay in the house and him to be the one to move to the next town over? Because they're not geniuses? Because they don't have many friends? All that I could think was, ''Fuck you. Seriously, fuck you.''

Our divorce is supposed to go through next week. We are going out tonight, as "BFF's'', to the city to see a show and have dinner. I chose The Canterbury Tales. Normally he would cringe at the thought of sitting through Shakespeare, but he is looking forward to it. Perhaps because he knows this is the end. I guess anything is more bearable when you know it's the last time. Our last time going out for the evening as husband and wife, legally, anyway.

The fact of matter is, we have grown apart. He likes late night drum and bass shows. Going out drinking. He is tired from his manual labor job, and doesn't like hiking on his days off. He loves basking in the heat and the sun and wearing flip flops.

I go to bed early with a good book. I like hiking, and day trips to the mountains. I hate the sun, and prefer cool, rainy days where I can wear boots and cardigans and thick tights. I like having one glass of really nice wine rather than 10 glasses of mediocre beer. I like the theatre, and classical music, and festivals and coffee houses with eclectic furniture and board games.

We still have common interests, like watching scary movies and going out for meals in nice restaurants. And our children, of course. But that has proven to not be enough to sustain us. Perhaps it is best for us to find other mates whom we are better suited for. Perhaps that's why aren't connecting anymore. Meshing anymore. We simply do not ''fit'' together like we once did. And I guess I am finally realizing that is okay. It really is okay.

''Look at you. You're so smart and cute and make nice dinners and are so lovely and sweet. And you're sexier than ever. I can't believe I am letting you go. I am just an asshole. And my hair is really thinning. I am going to be this bald guy trying to find a woman, and you'll end up with some great guy with a head full of hair.''

''I think you're experiencing typical human nature, what is called, 'You always want what you can't have.' You're only saying that because you are seeing me with rose-colored glasses because we are almost divorced. Besides, I happen to think receding hairlines are incredibly attractive...''.

''This isn't a receding hairline, I have patches all over my head. I have to actually comb it over.''

''I don't know what to say except, ''Instant karma?!''.

''That isn't very nice.''

''What? It is kind of funny. That you've been married for eleven years and now, of all times, days away from divorce, you are suddenly losing your hair. The right woman won't care about your hair anyway. I wouldn't. I know it's a clique, but it really is what's the inside that counts.''

''That's easy for you to say, you look better than ever. And here I am, even getting wrinkles...''.

To be fair, I did buy him Nivea for his wrinkles and Biotin thickening shampoo for his thinning hair.  But the funny thing is, all this time I was worried about me, how I would fare in all of this; the cancer survivor, who was bald this time last year, who doesn't have nipples, scars everywhere, chemo-induced freckles and raw skin and am currently losing a nail. Who the hell would want me? I missed my old self so much. My long, wavy hair. My beautiful skin. My strong nails. My breasts, that were soft and not full of weird, hard lumps. God, I missed my old self so very much. But she doesn't exist anymore. Physically, anyway. She is gone. I accept that now.

The irony is, now I am actually feeling confident about myself and it is him, Mr. Cool Single Guy who took Ubers out to rendezvous with the fun European girl in the city who is the one worrying about his looks, about attracting a new mate.

As a matter of fact, I wouldn't even want anyone to see me. In a perfect world, they'd fall madly in love with my mind, my soul, my very being, and my physical appearance wouldn't factor into the equation whatsoever.

But for him, appearances mean a lot. Which is why I think karma is intervening here. Teaching him a life lesson, perhaps? That a good soul is worth more than good looks. And his soul could use a little work in that department...

I thought for sure I'd be crying my eyes out this weekend, but I am not. I am happy to go out with him tonight, actually. This is exactly how I wanted to end things, end us. Going out, and having fun, and enjoying our family. Like when someone dies, and you want their final moments to be filled with love and laughter, not tears. Our marriage is dying, it's in its final moments, and we are saying goodbye in the kindest, most loving way possible.

We are ending our relationship just as we began it: as friends. Best friends.

Without German or anyone else in the picture. Just us. Best friends. And now co-parents.

I guess life does go in full circle after all.

I keep thinking I am in shock or something. Denial, even. How am I not freaking out?

I am about to be divorced! Me...divorced!! How could this be? Maybe it's that after cancer, nothing surprises me anymore. Or that cancer has set the bar so high, that it's like, ''Well, at least it isn't a life-threatening disease. Yay!''. Anything is better than that...even a divorce.

Then I remind myself that I have been through the mourning phase. I have cried myself to sleep many nights. And days. Cried at work. In the car. In the grocery store. At the park. Everywhere.

Maybe I am just sick of crying.

Maybe I am finally ready to just rip off the bandaid that is my wilted marriage and be happy again. Ready to begin to welcome all of the other wonderful things my life getting ready to bloom.

I deserve to be happy again. However that looks. Whatever form that comes in. Wherever that may happen. Whomever that includes.

I am ready to be happy again.