On a Serious Note

I often joke about, well, pretty much everything.  I believe that life is much too fun to be taken seriously.  However, I do have a serious side. 

I have a friend (several, actually) who is going through a trying time in her life.  She confided in me that her world feels like it's falling apart due to the dissolution of her marriage.  As I listened to her story, I just wanted to hug her and tell her, "Your feelings are completely normal.  You're going to be okay.  I promise, just be strong".  These words of advice I would not have been able to provide her a little over a year ago. 

Let me preface this by explaining that I went into my marriage like most do, confident that we, together, could withstand anything. I faced a lot of judgement throughout the course of my divorce, all from outsiders whose opinion truly meant nothing to me.  They have no idea what we went through.  Nor will they ever.

It takes more than one person to ruin a marriage.  Neither one of us was perfect.  I decided in May of 2009 that I could no longer pretend to love the stranger Ken turned out to be.  It took a lot of sleepless nights before I mustered the courage to tell him that things had to change.  This was the hardest thing I've ever faced.  This was the man I was supposed to devote my life to.  I took vows to love him through thick and thin.  What was wrong with me?  He treated me like a princess, sending me flowers for no reason, leaving me notes, providing me with a beautiful home.  I could never want or need for anything.  I was an awful person.  Why would I want to walk away from the only life I've known since moving to Florida?  I packed up a small bag of belongings, and went to a co-worker's house.  After sitting awake in her living room all night, I got in my car and drove down Gulf Boulevard.  I pulled into the parking lot of Gull Harbor, a 55+  condominium community, and parked.  There I sat. 6:15 a.m., facing a generic white three story building , wondering what I had done.  I had no place to go, and I had no one to call.  Nobody knew I wanted out.  We appeared so happy.  What would anybody say when I told them I left?  I wasn't ready to face the judgement yet.  All I wanted was someone to hold me while I cried.  I sat at Gull Harbor until about 8:30.  I grabbed the Sunday paper and started looking for rentals.  By 5:00 that night, I was a train wreck.  I hadn't found a rental, and I had no place to go.  I ended up back at my co-worker's house.  Her parents' winter home had been vacated for the season, so she handed over the key. 

I battled with the guilt of leaving Ken day and night.  I went for days without sleep.  My personal life was affecting my professional life.  I talked to Ken daily. Everyday, he'd cry and beg me to come home. How could I walk away from this man, whom I had given my all for just a year prior?  I moved back home after about a month.  He promised he'd change, and I promised myself I'd make myself fall back in love with him.  It felt so good to be home.  I was back with Moose, and my creature comforts.  Ken surprised me with a weekend escape to St.Augustine.  He reserved us the honeymoon suite at Casa Monica, took me for a horse-drawn carriage ride, and bought me jewelry.  This did nothing to make me fall in love with him again.  His obsession with material things was actually a major contributor to the demise of our marriage.  He never wanted to hear that when I'd try to communicate that.  A week before my 30th birthday, another one of his lies unraveled.  That was the end.  I told him this wasn't going to work.  I tried everything I could to make myself love him, but his promises of change were empty.  I found a fully furnished condo on the beach to rent.  

The following year, the guilt and the doubt haunted me.  I had regular contact with Ken, since he kept Moose, and we had cars, boats, and jet skis to sell.  The nights were so lonely, there in bed with my thoughts.  "What if I tried harder?"  I gave up EVERYTHING when I walked out on my family.  To me, that's exactly what I felt I did, was walk out on my family.  There were days I couldn't get out of bed. There were nights I'd fall to the floor sobbing uncontrollably, praying for the pain to go away.  I tried to function at work, but my performance was slipping.  I stopped teaching Zumba.  I stopped running.  I was alone now.  Nobody has ever felt like I felt.  Or so I thought.

I have been blessed with some of the most amazing parents in the world.  When I did get the courage to tell them I left, my dad drove down here from Pennsylvania and stayed with me until the divorce was well underway.  They were the only ones who never questioned why I left.  Finally, my shoulders to lean (and cry on) were here. 

A divorce isn't just a separation of a married couple.  A divorce is the separation of an individual from everything that grounded them and kept them whole.  For some, that's children.  For others, it's the life and home you created together.  As I mentioned earlier, a lot of people were quick to judge.  Without getting into the details of the divorce, nobody knows the whole story except the two people involved.  I refuse to get into the details of the divorce.  It's water under the bridge now, and as part of the healing process, I refuse to rehash that.

On June 20th, it will be one year since my divorce was granted.  I moved from that furnished condo into an unfurnished house.  I took this as an opportunity to move forward.  Ken relocated to parts unknown, and we have not been in contact.  He left me with nothing but a closet full of my clothing, Moose, and the world at my fingertips.  That's all I needed. 

It still hurts to dig up some of the wounds. They are still pretty fresh.  I'm not going to lie.  I cried writing this.  It's the first time I've cried over this in a long time, though.  That's how I know I am healing.

So I say to you, my friend, please know you are not alone.  Unfortunately, things may get worse before they get better.  You are so strong.  You can do this.  Please know that you have a non-judgemental shoulder to cry on.  Remember, we have predetermined this path for ourselves for a reason.