And just like that, the papers were signed.

It’s over. It’s finally over. It has taken ten long years to get to this point, but my divorce is finally over. Spent an entire day in court last week, but it’s finally over. And it’s kind of sad.

While we were sitting in the courtroom waiting to be called up, The X looked over at me and said, with tears in his eyes, “It’s kind of sad.”

He was right. It was kind of sad. But we both ultimately knew we didn’t want to be with each other anymore, and that proved true by the fact that both of us had already moved on to other relationships. It didn’t mean we couldn’t be friends. It didn’t mean we had to stop coparenting RJ. And it didn’t even mean we had to stop talking. But I totally understood what he meant. And as I drove away from the courthouse, I cried too.

I’ve written about this before, in a previous post about the divorce being final, but now that it’s actually happening, the feelings are much stronger. And I don’t think I was prepared for that.

There will always be a special place in my heart for The X, simply because we shared a lot of years together, and have a son together, but, ultimately, I know we’re both glad to be rid of the other. At least in marriage.

Here’s to hoping my next marriage brings on happier times.

Marriage.

“Marriage is harder than parenting. We have this inept and unconditional love for our children that is just there. Marriage is work. You must reinvent and change as time and life changes you, and you must do it together as one. Really, it’s a very long three-legged race on a rocky trail. Marriage is compromises beyond your imagination. Marriage is forgiveness ahead of pride. Marriage is humbeling. Marriage is a beautiful privelage and should not be taken lightly. Be honest with yourself before taking the leap. Its not a leap of faith…this is a concious choice. There should be no doubt, no uncertainties, no banking on potential. Marriage is part of who you are. It’s a sum of two people. You should move, act, and behave as one. Marriage should be the most unselfish thing you do, besides being a parent.”

This quote came from a blog post of a friend. It speaks volumes to what I’ve been feeling lately.

Over a week ago, The Ex and I signed the final divorce papers that will officially end our marriage. It’s been a very long ten years waiting for this moment, but it’s finally here. The papers have been sent off to the judge for signature, so in six to eight weeks, we’ll get them back and be officially divorced. It’s the greatest feeling ever.

So why do I feel so afraid? Why do I suddenly feel vulnerable and naked?

The first person I dated after The Ex and I split up, was Jeffy. No matter how many years we spent together, and how close we got, there was always a safe barrier that stood between us. It was my marriage. I was still legally married in the eyes of the law, so knew that our relationship could never turn into anything more concrete. I felt that same sense of safety from that barrier once SS and I started dating. Now that my barrier is gone, I feel a little scared. I feel that I don’t have anything holding me back anymore, and the thought of possibly getting married again some day, scares me.

SS and I have been together for three years now. In those three years, we’ve moved in together, taken vacations with each others families, contributed to each others children, and created a life intertwinded with each other. It’s a life we have created together, through a rollercoaster of emotions, both good and bad.

Unquestionable love. Compromise. Forgiveness. Unselfishness. All the things of which a marriage should be. And all the things I’m scared to completely give in to.

As I walk through this new chapter of my life, I hope that my fears aren’t so overwhelming and that I learn to embrace the vulnerability of being divorced.

 

Getting to know an absent parent

I can remember sitting in the judges chambers some room at the courthouse at the age of 7 with my sister and mom. I can also remember sitting in the judges chambers some room at the courthouse with my sister and my dad. I remember dad getting down on the floor with us and mom keeping her distance as she watched over us playing alone together. I can remember hearing the man conducting the session say dad plays with the children more. At the time, I just assumed he was thinking out loud as he wrote his notes down, but 24 years later, I’m not so sure. Why did that man say those words out loud? Those six words have run through my mind every single day since. Haunting? Perhaps.

I remember on the drive home from school one day, asking my mom did the judge decide we should live with you or dad? Secretly I was hoping she’d say dad, because I was NOT fond of mom’s new boyfriend, but she didn’t. We were on one of our last drives to the ‘family’ home, and for the first time I can remember, I experienced true sadness. I wanted to cry. Why was someone other than my parents allowed to tell us who we could spend our time with? Why couldn’t we just spend equal amounts of time with each parent? Why, at the age of 7, was I having to think about this stuff, when all I wanted to be doing was comparing sticker books with Doreen and Nicole.
As the weeks, months, and years went on, we saw less and less of dad. He was a ‘weekend father’ and had become sort of a background parent to mom and the boyfriend who had now become “the husband”, AKA: The Stepdad. He very rarely attended events we had (band competitions, basketball games, choir performances, etc), but was it because we had grown so far apart from him that we didn’t invite him or even want him there? Or because we knew he wouldn’t attend? Or was it something completely different? Am I holding a grudge about this for the wrong reason?

As I start to think about what it’ll be like if I get to have weekend visitations with Ryan, I have to admit, I’m scared of one thing, and ONE thing only. He’s 10. Is he already at that point that I had reached with my dad? Has he become so close to his father and so far from me, that he’s already developed a sense to push me away? It doesn’t seem that way by the way he acts around me now, but how can one tell when nobody will let me be around him for longer than two hours? Grrr @ the whole situation.

I have so many other questions that bring on other questions and – knowing my history of anxiety – will bring on fears. I can’t let that happen. That’s not who I want to be. Where is my best friend when I need her?

Losing someone you love

Losing someone you love is never easy. Whether it be by death, the loss of communication, moving away, or the simpleness of growing apart, the struggle one sometimes endures when having to deal with it face to face, can be difficult. For me, it will be.

Fear not, nobody has died.

I'm not good at dealing with the loss of someone close to me. Abandonment issues from childhood bring upon me fears I would rather not face, but as I grow up, I would like to think I am a little less judgmental on such things as divorce. When a marriage has run it's course, and both parties have tried everything they can, I do not hold it against either to peacefully walk away. I went through the horrible divorce of my mother and father at the age of seven. Now, 25 years later, I promise it hasn't gotten any easier.

As I watch my mother walk away from her second marriage and not look back, I’m left with lots of questions. Most importantly, “Why?”. The man I didn’t like for so many years, is now the person I’m trying to defend.

At the age of seven, you don’t understand everything. I heard a lot of things from my parents that I shouldn’t have, and I had specific hates for each of them for what they’d say. Today, it isn’t hate I feel, but sadness, because as an adult, I’m learning that even the best of relationships just sometimes don’t work. It makes me fear that no matter how hard I try at my own relationships, sometimes there’s just no saving them.

If I never get to see him again, I will forever miss the man who raised me as his own daughter. The man who taught me to turn the light off when I leave a room. (Something many people I encounter every day can’t seem to figure out.) The man who has taken on the responsibility of grandpa, to a child who isn’t his blood, yet is so much like him. I love you, Frank.