Just a bunch of different thoughts I've been having.

Six Months On

I’ve been living by myself for over six months now. It was something I had never figured would happen short of widowhood. I had spent a lot of evenings at home alone before the walkout came. Still, we usually spent the night together. Maybe that’s one of the reasons why many of my fondest memories deal with the bed we shared. We exercised there, touched and cuddled, visited, and simply enjoyed being together. When I woke up in the middle of the night (as I usually do for some reason) I would feel the large body beside me and listen to the slow, steady breathing and think about how glad I was to be in love and to have somebody there beside me. Now I wake up at night and just lie awake, unable to shut my mind off. It has taken some getting used to.

The bed was one of the few items that I had not owned before the wedding that I was allowed to keep. Now that I’ve replaced all the appliances I gave away I have everything in the house that I really need. There are only a few items I might still be able to use that I don’t yet have. Most of the small house actually doesn’t look too bare. It had been felt overstuffed when all our belongings were present. Getting the place in order has taken an embarrassingly long time. I haven’t felt like doing much except now and then. At least I’m making gradual progress instead of letting everything go to pot. The home office room now even looks fairly presentable.

At work things are going normally. I still wonder sometimes when the phone rings whether it will be that familiar voice I no longer want to hear making some fresh complaint or demand—though what there could be to talk about, now that we’re fully divorced and have everything divided, I can’t say. Now and then when the service entrance slams I worry for a moment that it might be an angry ex storming in, about to make a scene like last time despite the court order that resulted from that incident. Since M.K. moved out of town I’ve been learning not to worry about that any more. The thought still crosses my mind even so.

Now and then some acquaintance through church or work who somehow hasn’t heard yet about our separation and divorce will innocently ask about us, and I will have to explain that there no longer is an “us.” I feel vaguely embarrassed, even defensive, fearing that this will lead the questioner to wonder whether I did something wrong to prompt the breakup. This makes me feel like I have to go into more detail than I really should about things, to be sure “my version” is out there. Then I come away feeling like I’ve probably said too much, fearing that I’ve come across the wrong way. I wonder sometimes what’s really the right thing to say.

I continue to spend lots of time with Mom and Dad on weekends. I’m glad to do that, but my renewed dependence on them to take care of me when I’m sick and provide transportation while I’m saving to buy a car of my own makes me feel like I’m no longer fully adult. Being married, having a household, and entertaining guests made me feel like a grown-up. Taking care of M.K. during those illnesses and helping out with in-laws, especially children, who needed assistance gave me much of my sense of purpose. Now that is gone. I’m the one who always seems to need help, not the one who can offer it. It doesn’t feel right.

Much though being alone again has made me feel sad, I have to admit that once I knew there was no longer a chance of staying together I also felt a sense of relief. I had not realized fully just how much stress there was, always treading on eggshells to avoid provoking a display of temper, worrying about money but being afraid to ask questions about it, worrying about what might be happening behind my back, always having to take someone else into account in all the plans I made. It’s a relief and gives a sense of freedom to be on my own again. It’s nice to no longer have to find excuses for the inexcusable. It’s nice no longer having to worry about whether I have the love and respect I hoped I had, no longer feeling like I’m regarded as just a pretty face with no advice or ideas worth respecting. I have much less to worry about now, really. I’ve come to realize that I am better off.

My life feels more free, but also more limited. I can go where I please and do as I please, because nobody else really cares about these things. I no longer have anyone to go out with, or to lie down with, or to make love with. I have far less opportunity to get and to give hugs and touches. I still miss these things and more, even if not so urgently as I did a few months ago.

People well-meaningly tell me I can find someone else. One of Mom’s colleagues has spoken of trying to fix me up with someone, since I’m just too good-looking to be alone. That’s all very flattering, but I’m just as glad I don’t live too close to that would-be matchmaker. No, I don’t really want to be alone and celibate for the rest of my life. At the same time, it’s hard to imagine putting myself at the mercy of someone else like that again. How do I know, after all, that I won’t make another bad choice—or that someone who was a good choice won’t go bad? How can I face all the awkwardness of dating and getting engaged and learning to live with someone all over again?

How do I even know I’d really be a good marriage partner, anyway? I was not the one who destroyed our marriage. Yet I can’t help wondering—was I really that good to be married to? Maybe I really was rather dull, since I wasn’t so into parties and going to places with crowds and lots of loud noise. I’ve got a goofy and odd personality. I’m kind of a stick-in-the-mud. M.K. used to brag to friends about my cooking, and what I looked like, and about having sex with me. But there’s a lot more to marriage than all that. Did I really have that much to offer?

I think about things like this more often than I would like. The thoughts come without warning when I’m walking or driving or working or going to church. They get in my way. Sometimes I get sad, sometimes I feel angry. At night, when I go to bed by myself, there’s pretty well no way not to think about them. Before I lie down I say a prayer for M.K., and for the in-law children I’m no longer able to be near. Praying for someone does wonders for keeping bitterness and anger away.

After I’ve felt angry for a while I always come back to feeling sorry for M.K. I think that sense of pity has rescued me the way it did when Bilbo Baggins began his possession of the evil One Ring with an act of pity. Divorce and all the ugly emotions that come with it can eat a person up and destroy the spirit. To begin it with sorrow and not hatred has kept my soul safe. It shows once again the wisdom of Jesus, who said to love those who hate you and pray for those who mistreat you.

I remind myself when I’m alone, at night and at other times, that God remains with me—God the Father, who has all power, and God the Son, who knows and understands what we all go through, and God the Holy Spirit, who offers inner guidance and strength. God has provided me with family, and friends, and even material security to carry me through the bad times. I have it so much better than so many people. I remind myself regularly that even though it isn’t how I wanted it to turn out, the life I’ve been given is a pretty good one.

Nice piece, DL. I am also glad that you are coming to terms with what happened. A friend of mine is going through a divorce right now. Trying to sort out alimony. Dealing with the fact that her soon to be ex moved straight from their house to Twinkie's house. And I think she is very scared of being alone. She is obsessing a bit, instead of taking a breath, stepping back and relearning who she is. I think you need that time alone, to regroup and find out what you really want. Especially coming out of a abusive relationship as you are. You are wise not to rush. And to be thankful for what you have around you that gives you strength.

There is such a temptation to obsess, as you put it! When everything first started I spent most of my waking moments thinking about it, running dialogs in my head, etc. I was so upset I could hardly eat or work. With everything you do or even think about doing you wonder whether you're doing the right thing. It just takes some time to stop doing that.

Having your nose rubbed in the fact that you're being cheated on and left for someone else must be really awful. That's one thing I was spared.