“Getting over a painful experience is much like crossing monkey bars.
You have to let go at some point in order to move forward.”
– C. S. Lewis
So I have a Divorce Order in hand.
Shit sounds heavy. But basically what a Divorce Order means in the Province of Ontario is that the marriage is dissolved 31 days following the date of the order.
The magic date, you wonder? Let’s just say the wedding anniversary and divorce date shall forevermore converge. Ironic, much?
The entire situation at this moment feels inexplicably odd. A conclusion to the events comprising the train wreck that was 2013 is swiftly approaching in a thankfully undramatic fashion and with an unexpected neutrality of emotion. The torrential rain of tears and grief that overtook me at the beginning of that story have pretty much dried up. Aside from a smidgen of PTSD, all that remains is a sense of relief. I marvel at the thought of where I was, and where I am now, with a beautiful future flowering before me.
Lately I’ve given some consideration to the currently popular term “conscious uncoupling” with varying degrees of nausea. For the few of us who actually had the opportunity to consciously choose to untangle ourselves from unhealthy relationships, I say: congrats on your decision! For the rest of us, who were tossed into a toxic soup of misery and forced to sink or swim in the dark cold waters of grief, I say: congrats on not drowning!
Perhaps it is more p.c. to refer to this divorce as “unconscious uncoupling” rather than “blindsided and tossed into a cesspool of shit”, but the song remains the same. That is to say: Given the circumstances of said “uncoupling”, there really was no “conscious choice” involved here, at least not on my part. That said, onward ho. Yes, I’ll spare you from the myriad of jokes that particular phrase invokes in this situation. You’re welcome 🙂
In any case. The result of a door closing on that painful time is that another door has cracked open to a gorgeous new beginning filled with hope, love, support, peace and understanding.
I’ve come full circle and I’m so very grateful for the lovely path opening before me.
To those who rushed in with super-sized band-aids for my heart when I couldn’t find a way to stop the bleeding: thank you.
To those who stood with me in the flames when I felt I was the last tree standing in a forest fire: you are my heroes.
To those who held me tight when I felt I could no longer stand on my own: I love you.
To those going through similar turmoil and upset right now: hold on. Please hold on. It gets better. Truly, it does.