Two years

Today, Feb. 8, marks two years since I divorced the woman with whom I spent more than 20 years of my life. That's hard to fathom. I once read that most people who divorce remarry within two years. That's even harder to fathom, though I admit it probably would have been a healthier path for me. Two years ago, I got to find out what it was like to destroy the person who meant the most to me in my pitiful life. It was about as much fun as it sounds. 

Clearly, I misjudged myself going into my divorce. Someone with my particular psychology and background should not move ahead with a divorce without more support than what I had. My baseline state is so much lower than most people, I simply could not bounce back from my divorce. I don't have the same chemicals in my brain that most people have. It's like I started 6 feet underground and then went further down, all the while trying to get back to the same level that most inhabit aboveground.

My divorce was extraordinarily devastating. It wasn't just the rending of a household. It took away my life's meaning. I put everything I had into that woman. When I left her, I left myself. After my divorce, I was beyond lost. How do I feel about the whole thing two years later? My answer is at the end — a repost of a poem I wrote and posted more than two years ago.

This woman, when faced with losing me, threatened my life (more than once, and once in vivid detail of how she planned to do it). Yes, she cheated on me relentlessly in many ways and made me feel bad for small indiscretions. She did many hurtful things over the span of two decades, but she was the person I put more into than anyone else. I put my heart and soul into her, and losing her was literally like losing everything. She told me once that God was taking me away from her and giving me to Cindy, which was a bizarre statement. Sure, my ex didn't deserve a man like me, but I also didn't deserve a girl like Cindy. I don't know why she said that, but I did see right away her befriending Cindy was a deliberate attempt at sabotage and to make all parties feel guilty, which I believe she accomplished. I could say more about what she did, but let's leave it in the past.

It's been two years since I divorced her. Soon it will be the third anniversary of when we separated, and then the third anniversary of Cindy breaking off our friendship. And many more morbid anniversaries after that. These are the things I keep track of now. These are my anniversaries. No, I won't do this forever. I've made what sense of these things that I could. The memories have mostly faded. The conversations have all been had. The question I'm left with is, would I do it all again? Unfortunately, the answer is yes. Full knowing I would incur the same heartbreak and devastation, I would do it again. Talk about morbid.

What I've learned about myself is I really enjoy having someone to love, even if that love isn't perfect. The greatest blow to my self-worth came when I lost having a person to love. I need to give myself — my time, my energy, my body, my thoughts, whatever — to someone. If I could have had someone to share even some of these things with when I was going through the aftermath of my divorce, I think I would have fared much better. But, that was not God's plan. It was the perfect opportunity for Him to rectify some things in me that were very wrong — before I launched myself into something new. I see the wisdom in that now.
While it seemed incredibly unfair the way things unraveled, I can't help but see God protecting me — and some future girl — by making sure I was walking closely with Him first.

Ya know, I never understood how she thought. A strange sentence, I know. But, most people somehow reveal how they think. Somewhere along the line. Some people flat-out tell you how they think. Some people you can observe and get there. Not with her. I never got that far. There was a hidden level of intimacy that was off-limits. It was behind a veil, a wall, whatever. Maybe she didn't have enough insight herself to see it. I know I didn't. It's amazing, now that I've stepped back, that in a supposedly honest relationship there was this huge thing so intrinsic to who she was that I never understood. Shouldn't you understand how the person you've spent 20-plus years with thinks? It's fascinating I never got that far. Perhaps I never understood how she thought because the truth for her was a moving target. It had to accommodate her instead of the other way around. Or maybe it's impossible to know these things about another human being, even if you live with them forever.

My left-hand thumb still searches for the ring that stopped being on my ring finger two years ago. I used to touch it and spin it on my finger when I felt anxious or fidgety. I don't do that much anymore. Eventually, those habits die, just as everything does. She may have been the one with whom I could share anything, but, as I've gotten older, I've realized not everything has to be said. Some things are better off left unsaid. Perhaps that's how I should leave the rest of my thoughts about this — unsaid.

It's been a strange two years. I've been encouraged by a brother, my mother, my son, and friends to get a girlfriend. I suppose people like to see progress. They just want to see me happy, which I am decidedly not. As my dad said more than two years ago: life is short; enjoy it. Now that I feel closure for my divorce, maybe I can do just that.



You were the storm

I held you today
and it felt like
a thousand times before
you — falling to pieces
and me — unable to catch them

We are broken
never to be put back together
we are liars
if we believe anything else

I was never any good for you
but I always tried
I loved you with all my might
you were the storm
I was always chasing

What I feel
and what I felt
are not the same anymore
there is a strangeness
in hugging you —
almost a panic
like when you've lost your house key

I can't ever go back home
what's left of it
will never feel the same

There's always been that sadness
behind my eyes
you didn't put it there
but you fed it diligently

You and I
were a beautiful disaster
held together
by duct tape and memories,
always trying
and always failing
to remember why we made sense

I didn't destroy us
I just let us go
and all those falling pieces
found their home
scattered around us

I knew a little girl lost
but she was too far gone
to ever be found
she was mine for a moment
but that moment
grew tired of us.