This November, after 4 years, I finally got a divorce. I thought I would feel relief or freedom or terrible sadness, but what I felt was a big ole' fat mix of emotions so complex that it just felt like a black tar. I didn't even open the final decree. I filed it with my divorce papers from marriage numero uno and then I swept the living room.
Crazy Time by Abigail Trafford. I'm not much of a self-help book reader. I start out strong, but can never read the whole thing, however, this book (which I still didn't finish) said somethings that I have carried with me and repeated to myself over and over for the past four years. After your marriage falls apart, it is going to get a little crazy. And you my friend are going to be crazy for 2 - 5 years. Re-read. Yes, you read it right......What the fuck?????? At first that made me sick, and then my ego took over and I thought, "Abigail, my dear, you have never met me. I am an exceptional healer. I am great at endings and beginnings, but not so great at in betweens. I will be beyond this pain in 6 months tops." Hahahahaha, I had such high hopes....
Year four has come, and finally, finally, finally I feel peace, and purpose, and settled. I feel pretty nice in my skin. I love being home with my beasts. I have goals and dreams that fit our lives. I am not searching as much anymore, I'm living.
My crazy time was not super crazy, crazy. I did not run anyone over with my car, or take off for days on a coke binge. But there were times that I wasn't a great mom. There were times I drank too much, I slept too much, I yelled too much. There were times I didn't take care of myself, or I over took care of myself. There were many times I was so self-centered I lost sight of everything but me. There were times when I became so obsessed with my children it made me sick. There were times I became so enraged with their father I wished the world would open up and swallow him whole, and I let the whole world know it (except my beasts).
When I was first separated I did not understand how much marriage had shaped me. I hadn't noticed the subtle ways that I had let my personality meld into my husband. I had not realized that, though I was still a whole person, I had strangely morphed into a person with this large appendage called a husband that I had adapted my life to accommodate. It was like Sissy Hankshaw's thumb in Even Cowgirls Get the Blues by Tom Robbins, except she was born with her appendage and I chose mine.
Anyway, when the appendage fell off I didn't have to make accommodations for it anymore, and I was amazed. I was amazed at how lost I was and by how large my life felt. I was amazed that I had been so defined by the role of MARRIED WOMAN. I was amazed at how profoundly being left by the man that I married and who fathered my kids changed who I was and where I thought my life was going. I was fucking LOST.
So for awhile I flitted about searching for what I wanted now that my dreams had been rerouted and my definition of myself had been stomped into little pieces. Sometimes I looked like a butterfly and other times I was like a month continuously banging my head on that stupid light trying to find heaven. Damn, it was a crazy time, and it was a painful time, and it was a hilarious time, and it was a beautiful time. And now it's time for something else.