Oh boy… do I relate to that one liner! What she said: “I married his potential and divorced his reality.” Yup! I had a quieter version of walking in the rain yesterday. Last summer my boyfriend and I would talk a walk every night after dinner that he was over, and even when he wasn’t I would. Fast forward to now, we are not together (tbd if we will repair and regroup) and I have been avoiding that walk because of triggers and sadness and loneliness. But last night I went (not the first time since but still new, fresh) and I felt a peace with myself as I rounded familiar corners and saw familiar markers, but instead of making me weep, I felt… content with my own company. So there is dancing in the rain with giddy happiness along side a boyfriend FOR SURE (would love that for me asap lol) but there is also quiet freedom, rain or not, like we both did recently, knowing our soft bodies can and will love who they love, without feeling trapped by a bad marriage.
This essay was everything I needed. I loved the comedy skit (I guess your husband is really proficient at oral, lol)😂. The idea that we’re contagious is 💯 true.
Thanks for writing this; I enjoyed it with coffee while couch-lounging.
Now… do I send it to my husband, who was the kind of teenager who danced in the rain with me? In hopes he feels likewise inspired to reclaim that part of our story?
Or, do I suppose he will suspect an ulterior motive….
"Joie de vivre has been my trademark state of being for much of my adult life, but since my divorce I’ve allowed it to run unchecked, like an off-leash animal darting into the wild with unbridled enthusiasm." Love this sentence, Steph. I wholly relate to the weed vs wildflower thing - actually did a Note about it a couple of weeks ago in regards to the purple thistles in my area that are considered nuisances by most but beautiful by me. As far as divorce goes, I am very lucky and grateful to be longtime married to my very best friend, but I grew up inside a marriage where I used to beg my mom to divorce my dad. Staying married is sometimes poison for all concerned.
Thank you for that, Leslie, it means a lot. I love that I’m not the only thistle admirer out there! What a powerful last sentence—thank you for sharing that. ♥️
I relate too! “The reluctant stayers…” that’s so true. The only person who gossiped about my divorce ended up getting divorced herself within three years. She was just miserable in her marriage and judged those who left and seemed happy.
I loved the standup skit. So funny. It was the husband's who felt so uncomfortable to be around me, like I was on a mission to convince their wives to leave them. Great post.
I tell people that I collect ex-husbands and college degrees: I have two of one and four of the other. Suffice to say, I have two divorces, one by my choice, the other a result of an abandonment that nearly killed me. But universities are where I always find my hidden self. It felt natural to go back one more time after he left. Long commutes, homework, and the first F in my entire academic career healed me.
When I finally listened to myself, I realized that the marriages were my way of running away from lives that hurt me: a painful childhood and a college dean who seemed determined to make me miserable. School, on the other hand, always gave me a license to move toward something.
In the end, the completion of the last program coincided with the pandemic and reaching the age of invisibility. The combination of all three life events released me from all that kept me chained to the need to make others comfortable around me. No more, my brain flies, I don't hold back, and my ferocity is rekindled.
My divorces certainly do not feel like failures. If anything, I view them as launching pads to exponential personal growth. If that makes other people uncomfortable, too bad.
Beautifully said! I was a reluctant stayer until I became a leaver, and yes, for years I was really uncomfortable with what I saw as feminist glamorization of divorce.
Really though, I was jealous. And I tried to make myself feel better by telling myself I was trying harder. I wasn’t giving up.
Now, having just written a story called, "The Life-Changing Magic of No Longer Being a Wife," I fully relate to the sense of freedom women can claim when they release themselves from the bonds of a not-so-happy marriage. Divorce is a response; it’s not The Answer. The Answer lies in what we make of our lives and how we claim our newfound autonomy after the ink on the papers has dried.
“There is a million-dollar self-help industry dedicated to helping women cobble together the broken pieces of their marriage.”
WELP. This really resonates with me. I spent years doing alllllllllll the therapy, podcasts, books, workshops, you name it because I'd deeply internalized the messages (from inside and outside my home) about marriage being hard work. I put together a big, heavy toolbox of strategies that I hoped would finally enable me to say and do just the right things in the right way at precisely the right times to placate my husband and avoid his rage. What broke me out of the “should I stay or should I go?” fog was one question from my therapist: “If your husband never changes, could you be okay with that?” The answer was an immediate, “Of course not.” When I realized that all my future plans were premised on the idea that my "tools" would someday work, it became a matter of when, not if, I'd leave.
Oh boy… do I relate to that one liner! What she said: “I married his potential and divorced his reality.” Yup! I had a quieter version of walking in the rain yesterday. Last summer my boyfriend and I would talk a walk every night after dinner that he was over, and even when he wasn’t I would. Fast forward to now, we are not together (tbd if we will repair and regroup) and I have been avoiding that walk because of triggers and sadness and loneliness. But last night I went (not the first time since but still new, fresh) and I felt a peace with myself as I rounded familiar corners and saw familiar markers, but instead of making me weep, I felt… content with my own company. So there is dancing in the rain with giddy happiness along side a boyfriend FOR SURE (would love that for me asap lol) but there is also quiet freedom, rain or not, like we both did recently, knowing our soft bodies can and will love who they love, without feeling trapped by a bad marriage.
God that is so beautifully, perfectly articulated. I relate so deeply. Love you. 💜
The feeling is mutual!! Grateful for you and this space.
This essay was everything I needed. I loved the comedy skit (I guess your husband is really proficient at oral, lol)😂. The idea that we’re contagious is 💯 true.
That means so much to me! Thank you!!
I submitted to you!
Thanks for writing this; I enjoyed it with coffee while couch-lounging.
Now… do I send it to my husband, who was the kind of teenager who danced in the rain with me? In hopes he feels likewise inspired to reclaim that part of our story?
Or, do I suppose he will suspect an ulterior motive….
Ha! That is a very good question. 😉 I'm an eternal optimist—maybe a united reclamation of your teenage rain-dancing selves is in order. ❤️❤️❤️
"Joie de vivre has been my trademark state of being for much of my adult life, but since my divorce I’ve allowed it to run unchecked, like an off-leash animal darting into the wild with unbridled enthusiasm." Love this sentence, Steph. I wholly relate to the weed vs wildflower thing - actually did a Note about it a couple of weeks ago in regards to the purple thistles in my area that are considered nuisances by most but beautiful by me. As far as divorce goes, I am very lucky and grateful to be longtime married to my very best friend, but I grew up inside a marriage where I used to beg my mom to divorce my dad. Staying married is sometimes poison for all concerned.
Thank you for that, Leslie, it means a lot. I love that I’m not the only thistle admirer out there! What a powerful last sentence—thank you for sharing that. ♥️
I relate too! “The reluctant stayers…” that’s so true. The only person who gossiped about my divorce ended up getting divorced herself within three years. She was just miserable in her marriage and judged those who left and seemed happy.
Funny how that happens sometimes, isn't it?
I loved the standup skit. So funny. It was the husband's who felt so uncomfortable to be around me, like I was on a mission to convince their wives to leave them. Great post.
Yes! I can always tell which husbands in particular don't like having me around. It's palpable. Thanks for that, Ellyn. ♥️
Loved this so much ❤️😮💨
I tell people that I collect ex-husbands and college degrees: I have two of one and four of the other. Suffice to say, I have two divorces, one by my choice, the other a result of an abandonment that nearly killed me. But universities are where I always find my hidden self. It felt natural to go back one more time after he left. Long commutes, homework, and the first F in my entire academic career healed me.
When I finally listened to myself, I realized that the marriages were my way of running away from lives that hurt me: a painful childhood and a college dean who seemed determined to make me miserable. School, on the other hand, always gave me a license to move toward something.
In the end, the completion of the last program coincided with the pandemic and reaching the age of invisibility. The combination of all three life events released me from all that kept me chained to the need to make others comfortable around me. No more, my brain flies, I don't hold back, and my ferocity is rekindled.
My divorces certainly do not feel like failures. If anything, I view them as launching pads to exponential personal growth. If that makes other people uncomfortable, too bad.
Beautifully said! I was a reluctant stayer until I became a leaver, and yes, for years I was really uncomfortable with what I saw as feminist glamorization of divorce.
Really though, I was jealous. And I tried to make myself feel better by telling myself I was trying harder. I wasn’t giving up.
Now, having just written a story called, "The Life-Changing Magic of No Longer Being a Wife," I fully relate to the sense of freedom women can claim when they release themselves from the bonds of a not-so-happy marriage. Divorce is a response; it’s not The Answer. The Answer lies in what we make of our lives and how we claim our newfound autonomy after the ink on the papers has dried.
“There is a million-dollar self-help industry dedicated to helping women cobble together the broken pieces of their marriage.”
WELP. This really resonates with me. I spent years doing alllllllllll the therapy, podcasts, books, workshops, you name it because I'd deeply internalized the messages (from inside and outside my home) about marriage being hard work. I put together a big, heavy toolbox of strategies that I hoped would finally enable me to say and do just the right things in the right way at precisely the right times to placate my husband and avoid his rage. What broke me out of the “should I stay or should I go?” fog was one question from my therapist: “If your husband never changes, could you be okay with that?” The answer was an immediate, “Of course not.” When I realized that all my future plans were premised on the idea that my "tools" would someday work, it became a matter of when, not if, I'd leave.
WHOA
"I married his potential and divorced his reality."
That is an entire novel right there