I’ve endured an overly-long, painful, and tedious divorce after a very lengthy and painful marriage. Yesterday, we finalized our ending.
We went not with a bang but a death march.
Migrainous, spent, surrendering to his will just to be finished, I donned dark glasses and dressed in black. Seven hours in the courthouse negotiating away everything. In the end, he got exactly what he’d wanted all along.
My absence from this blog has not been self-imposed. My ex-husband managed to control the volume, pitch, frequency, and content of my speech, right up to the very end. He’d even used random copies of obscure paragraphs he pulled from my blog in his divorce court documents (these insertions were never relevant), with the purpose of sending me a message; I him heard loud and clear: SHUT UP.
His insidious control was creepy, distorted, nonsensical: True to form.
I’d relented and fell silent here, concerned something I wrote would make him even less willing to cooperate, or do the right thing. And in the end, I learned (yet again) that nothing I do or say could alter his path, or warm his heart.
My silence was for nothing.
That’s okay. If I’d continued writing, and he behaved badly as he did, I’d’ve wondered if it was something I’d said/did.
Lesson learned, again.
When the dust settles, I’ll know what it is I’m feeling. I know it’s complex.
Meditation and yoga have helped me remain present.
My children have kept me fed and focused.
My friends have helped me sort through the shards.
I’m not sure what I need to do next in order to help myself and family heal.
Right now, I’m just exhausted, still running on fumes and too-little sleep, hurting all over.
Eventually I’ll work through the rubble, allow myself to exhale, and try to hear what my heart has to say.
photo credit: Elizaveta Porodina, Cocoon