The thing nobody ever tells you about divorce when youâve been with the person for pretty much all of your adult life is that a part of you dies. Iâm not talking metaphorically because yes, self-help books and therapists will mention the grieving process. Thereâs actually a chunk of your personality, your identity as a human being walking this earth that literally withers, rots, blackens and ceases to exist. And what else is that besides a death?
And not just a small part of you, like the tip of your toe falling off from severe frostbite when the nerves and blood vessels crystallize to the point where they can never recover. Thereâs a half of you that you didnât even know was there that belongs to that other person, that IS that other person, this partner, your former lover, and you realize after it all comes crashing down that SO MUCH of you simply cannot continue to exist either. Itâs a series of incredible shocks, you donât realize it all right away. It burns brightly into your awareness, the little pieces leaving your soul one by one, falling like charred embers and the light flickers out as they drift down into the void, and the panic sets in. Itâs a scary feeling, shocking and painful all at once, excruciating, and thereâs nothing you can do but ride it out. All the funny movies, comfort foods, spa treatments and cheerleading friends in the world canât squash the misery. Only time will (or so Iâm told) but itâs hard to believe when youâre in the thick of it. Talking helps but you start to get sick of hearing yourself.
You certainly canât talk to your ex about it. You could, but it doesnât change anything and only makes them feel worse. And thatâs not what you want, is it? Maybe you do, sometimes, when the rage comes out in fits and starts, bubbling up from the depression, and in those moments you want them to hurt for hurting you. It must be a primal defense mechanism, just like youâd defend yourself against a physical attack. You want to know that theyâre suffering, too, just as much if not more, because then you wonât feel so alone. You want to know that youâre not feeling this loss so acutely for someone who doesnât feel the same way, who wasnât as invested, who is happily fucking some other chick without a care in the world, because that thought is too much to bear, and if you knew that you might just lose your marbles.
Everything else loses importance and your focus. Work? Here come the stupid mistakes, if you can get your work done at all. Dating? You might dive into swiping right every chance you get as a distraction, but chances are when youâre sitting across from a stranger sipping your coffee making small talk, youâre fighting the urge to tell them âIâm fucked up! My ex-husband doesnât love me anymore! Pay attention to me! LOVE ME!â or give them an honest answer when they ask what you did last night (Oh, cried myself to sleep â again, LOL, how about you???). Heâs still in the back of your mind when youâre awkwardly saying goodnight, knowing you probably wonât be calling them again and having the distinct feeling they wonât call you, either.
And THAT pisses you off even more, because why should he ruin your opportunities to move on? He doesnât want you, and yet youâre essentially wallowing in your post-split hell, drowning in doubt and cannot for the life of you figure out if youâll ever get your self-esteem back. But despite the fact that your friends, Oprah, your family and your therapist all tell you how amazing and beautiful and strong you are and that you just have to get back on your feet, you canât stop the constant tightness in your chest, the flutter in your heart when you remember your new reality, the ache when you think of what was and what your life is like now.
Your therapist asks a series of questions to determine if youâre suicidal, and one of them is âDo you have feelings of hopelessness?â. You probably donât feel like life isnât worth living, that nothing in your life will ever be good again, that youâll never find another cute affordable house (actually scratch that, because you got fucking lucky last time and that may never happen again, but whatever, you can rent), or open that pie shop, or travel to that little town in the Alps youâve always wanted to visit. But you do feel hopeless for that part of you that died along with your relationship, and thereâs something else. Youâre not quite ready to accept that ITâS FUCKING OVER, thereâs still a little dumbass part of you thatâs clinging to the hope that maybe, just maybe, someday your paths will cross again, when youâre both over your respective shit that made it so hard for you to exist together, you finally are content and have a creative outlet and figured out how to work part-time and still make six figures, he finally learned how to put someone else above his own needs and love unconditionally, and youâll happen to be in the same town again, reach out to meet for a drink, thereâs no bitterness left or hurt, and then youâll keep in touch, see each other more, suddenly itâll be like nothing ever happened, and youâll start dating again but this time youâll take it super slow, cautious, and the deep caring you still have for one another blossoms again into full-blown romantic, intense love, but even deeper this time, no foolinâ, and this time itâll last. Youâll have been through the ringer and your appreciation for each other will have grown ten-fold, youâll never take each other for granted ever again. Youâll both have had experiences that have made you stronger, more whole, and have learned from past mistakes enough to never repeat them. And it will be everything you could have hoped for, and more.
But the smarter, non-dumbass part of you also knows that this will never happen, and the feeling of hopelessness for that lost dream is palpable. But that takes too long to explain to the therapist, so you just say ânoâ.
