8.23.2011

Waiting

Sunshine leaping into my arms.

In a few days I will be divorced. 

It will either be the day before my birthday or just after.

I no longer feel things.

This really should've been written in Haiku.  Divorce Haiku.

You hope beyond hope
Stars stutter your mind and heart
Wrong, pain, shit, stillness

My mother said something significant to me recently.  She asked if I was sad about the divorce because she "couldn't tell."

The truth is I am a master at concealing my feelings -- and let's be honest, it's a whole lot easier to believe that someone is ok rather than it is to believe they're unraveling one slimy scale at a time -- and I don't even mean to be. 

I don't try to deceive or misrepresent. I just can't share.

I've been loved and supported throughout this process and I have soaked it up like a desert-walker at a trough, but I only take what is offered.  I don't ask.  I simply cannot. 

This divorce has murdered me.  The Jessica that was is really no more.  And I don't say that to be dramatic or to illicit sympathy.  It really and truly just is.  I'm sure Rooster could say the same thing, or anyone who's ever gone through a traumatic and significant shift in their life.  It changes you.

I was changed after Dad died.  I was changed after Hawk was born. And now I am changed again.  Irreparably.

I have so much to say every day, but find that it's intense and sad.  I should probably write more to get it the fuck out of me, but I am embarrassed by the immensity of it, its boringness.  I read so many amazing blogs from people I really admire and I wish I could be more like them: pithy and bright, not dark and morose.  But... fuck.  I don't know what else to do. 

I have a post planned about how to muddle through a divorce with a 3 year old.  I think I have some really incredible tips, but I feel like such a failure (in life in general) that I haven't been able to muster the shell of self-acceptance needed to put it out there for public scrutiny. 

I can't believe one person even still reads this.  

But, here I am... tick-tacking away... doing my thing.  I'm ashamed and not ashamed all at the same time.  How can one human being be so goddamned conflicted anyway??  I'm exhausted.

Hawk is the light of my life.  He asked for me to come over and play with him while he was at Rooster's house the other day and I about had a fit I was so excited.  He's never done that before.  When he opens my bedroom door in the mornings his face is split in two with a smile and he says magical things like, "Good morning, sunshine!  Did you have good mommy-dreams?  I'm still a giraffe-tiger!"  What. the. fuck.

I'd like to say things will change around here, that the mood will get lighter, but that's a goddamned lie.  I have no idea when that will happen (at least I'm confident it's a "when" and not an "if").

Rooster is still my closest ally through all of this and that's almost as painful as if he were my biggest adversary. We're as thoughtful and considerate in the shredding of our relationship as we were in the braiding of it.  Ah, the irony. 

And there go the dozen emotions in as many directions.  I'm like a bomb that went off: shrapnel, broken bits, a splatter.  Divorced.

16 comments:

  1. HUGS. HUGS. SUPER DIRTY HUGS from yours truly!!!!

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  2. I'm still reading.

    Hits very close to home with me. I can tell you it does get better. Not soon but it will. Just picture you and Hawk and the life you want to have with him. Don't worry about the how, the why and the when... focus on the big picture. Will happen faster than you could hope.

    Believe.

    Hugs.

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  3. You are in my heart tonight. I love you and for what it's worth I have and still do admire greatly how you are coming through this.

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  4. I still read your blog. I am still here. Reading. And thinking of you. Know that there are MANY people thinking about you and hoping things get better for you. Yes, we care. Very much. Your readers.

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  5. I love you and hope you find comfort in knowing we all support you and I for one don't ask you because I don't want to pry, and also because I'm not there :(. You make me smile every time I read your tales of your son. There is so much love in your life. I can feel it through the 'net.
    I'm still reading and rooting for you!

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  6. Jessica - This is WorthwhileAugust 24, 2011 at 12:35 PM

    Thanks, everyone. I always feel the love when I put myself out there :)

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  7. I, too, still read each post you send. I love how you write. I love your passion for Hawk and his development (I'm that way with my kids). Even though I can't relate to being divorced, I can relate to situations that make you numb with sadness. And, how you get so tired of hearing yourself talk about it when people ask. So yes, at that point it's worth lying and saying "I'm fine." However, you know that we often become a product of our thoughts. So, like a Lindseyjay above said, try to "focus on the big picture"...for this next chapter of your life. :) If that means positive daily affirmations and/or encouraging visualizations to get you through this slump, so be it--whatever works! You know the power of positive thinking and taking control of your thoughts. You said it earlier, the lifting of this mood is a "when" not an "if". Guess who has control of the "when"... :) I know what I'm saying is easier said than done, but who else can initiate the healing of you? Perhaps through this process you'll experience new ways to help others cope and overcome the pain that comes with change. Regardless, like your blog name reminds us, each step in life--regardless the direction--is "Worthwhile". :) Warm and empowering thoughts to you, my dear! -Michelle

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  8. Still reading. Keep writing.

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  9. I love every. single. one. of your posts... Your writing is so real. I can feel the rawness of your emotions, and your words always touch me - they mirror my own feelings as I go through a similar journey. Feeling hopeful for the future has been my biggest challenge. I would love to read the post you're working on about divorce with a 3yo!

    Speaking of 3 yr olds, the way you talk about your son...it makes me smile as well.

    Sending healing thoughts your way...

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  10. Reading and loving it (your writing, not your sad life events) and feeling so much for you.

    Have you read Eat, Pray, Love? That's a great story of what divorce feels like from the inside and how she gets beyond it... what you are saying about it reminds me of her talking about divorce. I don't know if it'd help.

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  11. *elbow bump*

    *nod*

    It does get better, not quickly, but big enough shit sure does change you - knocks a shiteload of that naïveté out of one's loving/trusting soul. But in the end, I almost hate to say it, but I think it does make you better, stronger, bigger, cheaper, better, faster ... or at least more resilient ... and appreciative of what you have - aka big H.

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  12. Oh Jessica. I am sorry.

    I am always here. I want to read what you have to say.

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  13. Ok, same as --^ those people said. Nothing better to add, but wishing the best for you as you navigate through grief, one hard step at a time. I don't think there's an easier way to do it but go on through, and that sucks. Thank you for writing so we can walk with you in a small way.

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  14. I am getting divorced with a just turned 3 year old and understand this all and I am with you, but I tell you.... all is well, at least, eventually, it will be and I thank you for your honesty and I love reading this. WIsh I could say more, but I can't. Love. Peace. Contentment.

    Reggie x

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  15. From the veteran:

    There is something bigger, better and more meaningful waiting for you.

    Heal sweet girl. Heal. It will be ready when you are.

    xoxo

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  16. I love reading your posts because I feel as though they are real. As much as I don't wish these feelings on you or anyone, you aren't trying to hide behind a veil of pseudo happiness. You're throwing yourself out and I really appreciate that. My heart breaks for you, relates to you (in its own ways) and I wish there were more I could do. But I want to shed light that you will one day mend. You will still be marked by this change but you will mend, somehow and someway, around it with time.

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