The atomic bomb of divorce

The sixth in a series of posts on the beginning of the end of my marriage, and a look back at our relationship, from meeting, dating, engagement, and the in-laws (that could be an entire blog in itself, but that’s a story for another day…!).

Borrowing a term Cindy used in a comment to me – calling divorce the atomic bomb – tonight’s post is focused on the effect of my divorce beyond just on me – to my family and friends, and how difficult it was to actually tell people that I was going through divorce.

In fact, as I mentioned in a previous post, I leaned pretty heavily on one of my sister’s to “do the dirty work” and tell some of my friends and family for me, because I couldn’t bring myself to do it myself, because I was partially ashamed and partially because I was physically unable to speak those words, and share what had happened without crying, shaking and being completely unable to even get the words out.

Some of my memories from when the word got out…the atomic bomb begins (beyond what I described when I told my sister Jess, one of the hardest things for me)…

…my mother. I’d told her bits and pieces as the conversations began, but when it was really happening, I remember calling her from my sitting room in my house. I was sitting in a tan armchair and my cats were sitting in my lap. I called her, and I explained everything. And I was crying, tears streaming down my face, my cheeks, my chest. I remember she had a similar reaction to my sister Jess – that he needed to talk to someone, that it couldn’t be me, or us, that it was something else. And when it became clear that this was happening, she was so supportive, even though her mama bear instincts wanted to come out – and came out a little, but lovingly so – and was just the right amount “mom” as she was my friend, my confidant, and my advisor. Thank you…the pride you’ve had for where I’ve come touches me, and makes ME proud. Thank you.

…my sister Jen. I couldn’t even tell Jen, because I was so pained, so sad, and at that point, had only told Jess and my mom. I don’t know why I had such a hard time telling Jen, beyond just the pain of it. But I remember asking Jess to tell Jen, and then she called me. I could barely say hello, because I knew what she was going to say. She was already crying…I was in my kitchen, trying to make dinner for myself, and I dropped everything and slowly sank to the floor and just cried. I barely spoke, she barely spoke, we just cried together. It was a bonding experience, and one of several quite poignant moments between us that I will never forget. A few days later, she sent me a beautiful card and I called her again, and cried, and just felt so loved and supported in the quiet unspoken way that I needed. To this day, thank you Jen, thank you so much for your support and love.

…my BDF (best divorced friend). I had hinted in emails to her that something was going on, but she had no idea what it was. I remember calling her – and mind you, this was a few weeks (or maybe even a month) after it all started. And, as you know, she went through divorce too, and not all too long prior, so she was acutely aware of the pain that comes along with it. So I called her. And she lives in Florida, so we only talked every few months at that point (mostly on email), and I started to tell her, and started to cry. Again, I sunk to the floor, this time in my living room, and just blubbered it all out. I cried. She cried. We both cried, and it was what I needed. It was as if she was right there, crying with me, virtually hugging me, and she just talked and talked, and shared her thoughts and was supporting, and not “anti-Pete” or anything, she just supported. It was what I needed then, and it’s still what I love about our friendship now, I feel supported all these miles away, and now, we laugh, and we talk dating, and we talk life, and it’s wonderful…thank you BDF, you’re the best, and I am convinced I wouldn’t have come through this without your support, and I’m so glad we’re so much closer now, than ever before (and, don’t think I forget when you sent me flowers for valentine’s day last year – it was the most thoughtful thing a friend has ever done for me!). XOXO. Divorce unites us

…my “girls night” friends. My sister Jess again had the task of telling my friends for me – my really close group of friends, that is, in an email. She had me read it first – and I cried. I was shaking, and didn’t want to tell them, even though I really did want them to know. The outpourings of emails back was amazing. I cried over and over as she forwarded them to me…several of them crying when they read the emails, several of them wondering what they could do to help, how they could support me. And above all else – they all stuck by me without “choosing” my side…in other words, none of the bad-mouthed, none of the were negative, they were all just supportive and focused on me, not us, or him. It was exactly what I needed.

…my grandparents and my Nonna. Once again, I was unable to tell either my Nonna or my grandparents about my divorce…my mom did that for me, thankfully, and perfectly so. I remember visiting my grandparents for Thanksgiving – a Thanksgiving I will never forget, as my sister Jen spent it with me, instead of with her husband and in-laws, making the day bearable, and memorable for many reasons – and they didn’t really say much at first, but hugged me, and I could see it in their eyes, their sorrow for what was happening. I remember my grandfather’s prayer at the dinner table, and he mentioned something about being with those in need and I know he was talking about me, and it took all I had in me not to cry. When I left, my grandmother put her head on my shoulder as she hugged me, and said she was so sorry and they were praying for me. Again, it took all that I had in me not to cry and crumple right there. It was the perfect amount of words. And, my Nonna. The last time I ever really got to spend time with her on Christmas Eve, as I have mentioned several times before…are forever engraved in my heart and soul forever. Thank you God for giving me grandparents that mean the world to me, and are as supportive as they ever could be.

~~~

Those are just a few of my most poignant memories…and in terms of reactions, I would have to say that the most poignant reaction is from my brother in law and his reaction to everything.

Now, mind you, he and Pete were VERY close…best friends close. And when this happened – Scott was so angry and defensive – FOR ME – and he was just so taken aback that Pete could just give up, without even trying to fix it. He tried to talk sense into Pete, as did my sister Jess, over hours-long conversations that went nowhere, no matter how hard they tried. Over the months, and now year (plus), he’s been amazingly supportive and I couldn’t ask for more. I stayed over in their guest room almost every single weekend for at least 6-9 months, and they never complained, they always made me feel welcomed, and his parents even took me in as an “adopted” in-law. It was amazing – and their whole family is wonderful.

~~

So, while divorce was an atomic bomb in my life, affecting so many people close to me, it ultimately brought me closer to my family and good friends, and showed me WHO my friends really were, and who weren’t.

~~

To my blog “family” – don’t forget – read this and let me know if you’re interested

We interrupt this series to bring you…

…a fun idea Nicki over at Suddenly Single Journey and I started cooking up this weekend!

Here’s an excerpt from her post:

Okay.  Here it is.  And actually, if it all comes off as we hope…it is a really great thing to be happy about.

Jolene and I were talking about a blog family vacation.  That’s right.  We want to get together in person.  See, the camera doesn’t do me justice.  I’m much thinner prettier younger better in person.  Right.  So, we’d like input.  If you want to join us on vacation in August, let your voice be heard.  Once we know who’s committed, we’ll get specific with location, date, length of stay, etc.  I, personally, am rooting for a nice beach location…or a place with a Margaritaville or a place I can drink margaritas or…who am I kidding?  I’ll pack my own on vacation.  Let’s get working on this.  Six months.  Plenty of time to scrimp and save for some quality time with your blog buddies.  Can’t wait to hear from you.

Doesn’t that sound like fun? We have six months to plan, figure out who can make it, where we want to try and meet up, and book it! We all have so much in common, one way or another, that we’d clearly get along great, and have a blast at the same time. I know I have talked with INRIS, Snarkbutt Divorced and others about this as well, in recent months, and i think we can get a great sampling of our “blog family” together, don’t you? Who’s in?!

~~

On another note, Group Kick launched this weekend at my gym, and it was phenomenal!!! What a rush, and we all did fantastic. My sister posted a great blog and some pics of us looking “badass” so check that out, if you’re interested. I’ve also posted a pic of us below – BEFORE we got sweaty and unrecognizable Hint – I’m on the right.

It was just so great to see all of us, kicking it hard all lined up across the stage and flanking either side, and the room was just alive with energy. Some folks from the gym (the GM, owner, and a few other instructors) watched from the sidelines, and cheered us on, and after class, everyone was buzzing about it, and congratulating us. It’s been 8 weeks of hard, intense work, but we’re rounding the bend, and it’s starting to feel more fun and more natural. Kick some!!

Hindsight at a marriage cut short…the bad.

The fifth in a series of posts on the beginning of the end of my marriage, and a look back at our relationship, from meeting, dating, engagement, and the in-laws (that could be an entire blog in itself, but that’s a story for another day…!).

So, in recapping the beginning of the end of my marriage, I’ve had some moments of clarity about the good and the bad about my marriage. Call it hindsight, call it learnings, call it healing…but there was some good, some bad, and some in-between moments in my marriage that I suppose you could call signs that the foundation for our marriage and relationship was 1) clearly rooted in friendship and b) had some deeper issues than maybe I saw at the time.

So, here are some of the bad (and please, when I say bad, this is probably nothing near “bad” in true bad marriage terms, but for me, these are signs I see, looking back, that nudged at the longevity of my marriage):

My in-laws never accepted me. My ex-husband is Lebanese. His parents moved here before he was born and made a life here for their family (and contrary to what many tend to believe when someone says “Lebanese” or any Middle Eastern nation, he is Catholic) and Pete was born here (so he’s an American citizen by birth, and his parents received citizenship after moving here). Needless to say, their culture is very much a part of their beliefs – that their children should marry partners of Lebanese decent. So, from the beginning, there was hesitation that he date an American woman (their belief – stereotypically so – is that American women latch on to men, take their money, make them sleep on the couch, and then divorce them – nice uphill battle, no?), and they were always very cool towards me, closed off, and hard to approach.

Complicating things further, I only saw them every month or few months, as they lived two states away, so it wasn’t as though I had a lot of opportunities to break that exterior. They “blamed” me for taking Pete away from them (since he moved here a year after we started dating), they were always pushing him to move back home, and they just plain didn’t like me. Finally, the summer before our break-up, his mom told me she loved me, and I finally – finally – felt accepted – almost TEN years later. Yet, once Pete told them he had decided to move out and was ending our marriage, they immediately told him they never liked me, they were glad we were divorcing, and were extremely suspicious that I was going to try and “take” everything from Pete – the house, money, belongings etc. It was shocking to me, at the time, and I firmly believe that their reaction to his ending our marriage sealed the deal…had they pushed him to try and make it work, I think he would have. And, if you are almost 30 and your parents can influence your decision that much…well, enough said.

To this day, they don’t know that we have such a good friendship. Pete had to keep it secret that we talked often, that our divorce was as open between us other communication-wise possible, and that, well, we were getting along great. They wanted him to hate me and sever all ties, but he didn’t, and for that, he’s redeemed himself (if he had, in fact, let his parents feelings towards me influence his decision to divorce me)

My ex never taught me Lebanese. We’d been together almost 10 years and I barely knew any Lebanese…the language his family spoke fluently, almost all the time whenever I’d visit. I think they took it as an insult that I didn’t know their native language, yet, Pete never took the time to share it with me, beyond a few words (and several of those being curse words!). To me, being in a relationship, and a marriage for that amount of time should mean sharing everything – especially culture and language! It never really occurred to me that it could have been an issue in our marriage – or to my in-laws – at the time, but in looking back, I think it was pretty huge. Maybe it’s just me, but I think it signified, underlying, that this wasn’t going to last…subtly at least.

My engagement was anti-climactic. It occurred to me that I got engaged almost four years ago – February 11, 2006. Why doesn’t that date stand out more? Because my engagement was anti-climactic…and please, I hope this doesn’t come across as surface or superficial, but there wasn’t a lot of thought put behind it. He came home from picking up the ring (he went with my sister and brother in law) and sort of just gave it to me and said, “will you engage me?” (it was supposed to be a cute little joke between us, because he would always say that for some reason – not will you marry me, but will you engage me..odd quirk perhaps) and that was that. I was happy, but at the same time, I was a little dissapointed that he didn’t put more thought into how he was going to do it. I don’t need a lot of super fancy things…elaborate dinners, 2 dozen roses and chocolates, but just in terms of how it was presented – just pretty plain and simple. No oomph. Just okay, we’re engaged. That’s cool.

I actually was talking to Pete yesterday and mentioned the date and he didn’t even remember it! He was surprised it had been four years, and he even said – before I mentioned it – that he “didn’t really think about it, he just did it” when he asked me. He said he “didn’t want to do anything crazy” – but I guess that was the state of our relationship – just one step after another…you move in together, you get engaged, and then you get married. Formulaic…stale…just there.

While these aren’t “bad” in terms of truly the bad…for which I am extremely grateful (no abuse, no cheating, etc) – for me, they were things that are foundation issues with our marriage, in my opinion. I WANTED to be close to my in-laws, I WANTED to learn the language I heard so often, and I WANTED to feel the sense of truly, madly, deeply love that I think I deserve (I use that song because in the early days of our relationship, that was “our” song, and now, looking back, we weren’t truly, madly, or deeply in love with each other…we did “just” love each other, and Pete made the right decision to end our marriage, I firmly believe that).

What do you think? Are these foundation issues for you, too, or just nice-to-haves? Maybe I am overthinking, but for me, these are signs that maybe we weren’t meant to be “forever” and there were some issues that weren’t easily changed…things that I don’t want in a future relationship, and things I’m sure I’m going to be more sensitive to “sensing” in the future…whereever that prince charming may be lurking

Losing not just a husband, but my best friend.

The fourth in a series of posts on the beginning of the end of my marriage, and a look back at our relationship, from meeting, dating, engagement, and the in-laws (that could be an entire blog in itself, but that’s a story for another day…!).

The hardest part of the early beginnings of my divorce was coping with the overwhelming feeling of loss. I hadn’t just – in little more than a week or two – I’d not only lost my husband, but my best friend and support system, something I had for the last almost 10 years. How do you bounce back from that? Not even just bounce back from that, but how do you even take one step forward from that? The loss, the pain, the sadness and the fear that I felt was all-consuming. I felt like I was dead, a walking zombie, with no soul, no feelings, no emotion left to give.

Pete was my everything. When I was sad, I turned to Pete. When I was happy, I turned to Pete. When I needed advice, I turned to Pete. When I wanted comfort, or a hug, or a kiss, or love, I turned to Pete. To laugh, I turned to Pete. To SHARE (anything, life, experiences, happiness), I turned to Pete. Now, that world was gone…he went from being my best friend, husband, and everything to essentially my enemy (for lack of a better word).

The betrayal I felt was so hard to cope with. The trust I’d built up in him…gone. The love I had for him…was hard to see anymore, because he wasn’t HIM anymore. But at the same time, I couldn’t fathom that he WASN’T him anymore. I would look at him, and want so badly, more than anything in the world, for him to snap out of it, and hold me, and tell me he was sorry, that he loved me, that he wanted to be with me forever.

But that didn’t happen.

Some might think I didn’t try hard enough to “win” him back, or “keep” him, or fight for my marriage. But I tried. I tried so hard. I suggested we rekindle, maybe it was just that. I tried to suggest counseling, he wouldn’t do it. I tried whatever I could…but he was unwavering. And because of that, because he was so willing to just GIVE UP, and walk away, I lost respect for him…if he couldn’t respect me, our marriage, or our life by TRYING, then he wasn’t the man I thought he was.

And I deserved better.

So, I made the decision not to try anymore to retain my marriage…because, no matter what, it would never be the same between us. Never. It was already too far gone, I was already too hurt, and he was already too far gone. I knew it was going to be a long road, but at the end of it all, I knew the one thing I wanted to retain, was our friendship.

And, not fighting him, not forcing him to stay (which would also be pathetic on my part, and I am not pathetic…if he doesn’t want me, then he doesn’t deserve me, and I’m not going to beg. It’s as simple as that, at the end of the day), and figuring out how best to separate, and figure out what we’d do with our assets ultimately led to the best result for both of us – friendship.

From writing this series this week, my mind has been right there, in late 2008, just reliving the hardest months (and ensuing year) of my life…and that feeling of losing my best friend comes rushing back, and I realize how very happy I am that we ARE friends, and that we understand each other. We laugh, we share, we still have fun together. That means a lot to me.

And some may think that’s crazy, but it works for us. And I couldn’t be happier and have more closure than that.

“Pain nourishes your courage. You have to fail in order to practice being brave.”

Well, it’s Quote Friday, and while I am continuing my series on where my divorce began, I wanted to pull in a quote that ties into that as well:

Pain nourishes your courage. You have to fail in order to practice being brave.

I think anyone going through divorce can relate to this – we know pain. we know failure. And, conversely, we know courage and we know bravery. Yet, at the worst of the worst, we can’t fathom courage or bravery, but we do, we make it, we succeed, we are victorious, and we are better people on the other side than we ever thought possible.

~~

The third in a series of posts on the beginning of the end of my marriage, and a look back at our relationship, from meeting, dating, engagement, and the in-laws (that could be an entire blog in itself, but that’s a story for another day…!).

Tuesday. Waking up at my sister’s house. My heart sunk. It was really happening, wasn’t it? Autopilot snapped on, yet I couldn’t ignore the massive, aching, painful feeling in my chest. A heavy, sad, broken heart. It pulsed within my chest, a feeling I will never forget, because I couldn’t believe that you could actually feel a broken heart, but you can. You can feel it throughout your whole being.

I cried. I pulled myself together, hoped the distance was helping, even though it had only been 12 hours at most. I went to work, I put on a “face” and kept to myself in the privacy of my office, door shut most of the day. I cried at one point during the day, as I was IMing with my sister, and the more I tried to hold back, the more I cried. It was two days of this…waking up, crying, going to work, faking it, and getting into the car and breaking down the instant the door was shut. It was the longest two days of my life.

And then it happened.

Wednesday morning. Two days after I left the house. The longest days of my life. Pete called me at work just after 9. I asked him how he was. He said he was fine. I said I missed him. He said he didn’t miss me, he felt a wave of relief, he was happy, and he didn’t need the rest of the week to decide.

It was me.

I was stunned.

I couldn’t believe he called me at work to tell me that. I didn’t know what to say. I started to panic. I didn’t know what to do. I couldn’t even cry. I was just flailing emotionally to the point of paralysis. I told him I was going home, I couldn’t go through the day knowing what he just told me. He told me he’d come home too, and we’d talk. I made up some lame excuse about a pipe leak at the house and rushed out of there like a bat out of hell. I bumped into BDFF (who was not near divorced yet…) and could barely look her in the eye. She looked at me, eyes wide, asked me what was wrong. I muttered something and couldn’t even look at her. She knew, I could see it. She knew something was wrong, more wrong than it could ever be.

I got in the car, and was shaking, and started to cry. I called Jess (who was back in the office) and told her, and she was about to leave too and come with me, but I told her to stay, I needed to talk to Pete. At that point, I decided I had to tell my mom, really tell her. I had hinted at it in an earlier conversation, but did not nearly tell her the gravity of the situation. I cried all the way home, blurting everything out to her as I drove. I’m sure she didn’t really hear half of what I said, but I could feel her pain for me. And that made it even harder for me, because I knew she wanted to protect me, and take this away for me, and she couldn’t. She knew what I was about to go through would be life-altering, and all she could do was sit back, watch, and be as supportive as possible. It was hard for me, because I knew she was hurting for me, and for some reason, that was so hard for me.

I walked in the door to the house. It was silent. I felt like I’d been gone for weeks. I sat down, I cried again. I waited for Pete to come home and suddenly, I knew what I had to do.

I had to let him go.

Despite the pain and sadness and absolute betrayal I felt, I wasn’t about to beg him to stay. If he was so ready to throw something away that I felt was a mistake, but he was still willing to throw it all away for what he thought would buy him happiness, then he didn’t deserve me.

I don’t know how I was that clear-minded that I thought that at the time, but I vividly remember it.

We talked. I didn’t cry. We were logical. I told him he should move out. He was taken aback. Why, I have no idea…but he was. We talked about what we’d do with the house – try to keep it short-term, sell it long-term – how we’d tell family, what we would say. We called it a separation, but we both knew that was just what we were calling it because it was too hard to say divorce.

Before we ended the conversation and he went back to work, two things stuck out in my mind. First, he said he was shocked at how I was taking this. He thought I was going to beg and fight harder. I told him that if this is what he wants, I’ve tried, and I can’t change it. But to know this – if this is his decision, there’s no turning back. Our marriage as we have ever known it is over. It’s broken, and it’s broken so quickly and so badly that there’s no turning back.

What did he say?

He didn’t know if this was the right decision, but it was the decision he had to make. And knowing there was no turning back was the decision he had to make. Little did I know that that decision would end up being more right for me than it was for him. I saw the confusion in his eyes, I saw the fear, and the worry (what if I am making a bad decision?) but he still made it.

That was the beginning of the end – the end of our marriage, but the beginning of the build-up of me as a courageous, strong, confident, happy single woman.

I’m 29 and I’m getting divorced.

The second in a series of posts on the beginning of the end of my marriage, and a look back at our relationship, from meeting, dating, engagement, and the in-laws (that could be an entire blog in itself, but that’s a story for another day…!).

Yesterday, I started my series on the beginning of the end of my marriage, and I’m already amazed, yet, touched, by the comments from my blog “family” (and real friends/family) on how they can relate to this series. So, without further ado, picking up where I left off yesterday…

It was Monday. And I was a zombie. I didn’t know how I would make it through the day, and more importantly, not let on what the hell was going on in my life, because it was written all over my face. One of my sisters and I work together, and we drive to work together, and I tried my best to mask it, because if I said it out loud, it would feel more real, and I was so afraid to say it. Especially to her, because she knows me practically more than I know myself.

I held it in for all of probably an hour. Then I IMd her (two offices away – yes, we do this daily, IM each other, it’s just what we do…) and told her that something was wrong. That we had a talk last night. That I didn’t know what was happening. She IMd me back…what do you mean? WITH you two? You’re scaring me, what do you mean? I’m freaking out. I IMd her back, don’t make me cry, I don’t want to talk about it. She came running into my office, shut the door. My face crumpled the minute I looked her in the eye and started crying. She started crying, she looked confused, as bewildered as me. I told her what happened. She immediately denied it – the same reaction I had – how can it be YOU? It’s not you. He’s confused. There’s nothing wrong, it’s not you. It’s not you. It’s not you.

At that point, it was too late, I was bawling, I was a mess. I couldn’t mask it. I went home. I called Pete and told him I was going home, that I couldn’t handle it. He agreed to come home, too. I drove like a zombie home, I was crying, I was numb, my mind was racing.

What’s happening? This isn’t real. It’s something else. It’s not me. It’s not me. It can’t be. Please God, fix this.

I walked in the door, sat down on the couch in silence. Pete walked in the door and looked at me. Scared. Confused. A shameful look in his eye. He was him, but he wasn’t. I was already losing him and I didn’t even know it. I hugged him, he half-heartedly hugged me back. We talked…and talked…and talked…and cried.

Over and over, it came back to us. There’s something missing, he said. I’m not IN love with you anymore. I love you, but I am not in love with you. There’s something missing. I don’t want to be married. I want to run away. I want to leave everything and just run. I don’t need the house. I don’t need the cats. I don’t need this. I don’t need you. I think I want a divorce.

I was stunned.

He said it. I want a divorce.

And he was adamant.

I told him that I didn’t think it was us, I think if I wasn’t there, he would miss me and realize it’s not me. He was still adamant, but we agreed that I would move out for the week and live with my sister. No contact. No phone calls, no emails. That was a Monday night. I packed up a week’s worth of clothes. I was crying. I couldn’t see straight. I was numb. On my way out the door, I gave him a hug, and a kiss on the cheek, and I was bawling. I told him that I loved him. He told me he loved me too, but his eyes were a million miles away, and his face looked crushed. He knew was killing me from the inside out, but he was still doing it.

I drove to my sister’s house, bawling. I walked in the door, and she was in the kitchen. My brother in law was on the couch, and he just sat there and didn’t say a word (I think he was trying to respect my privacy, perhaps). I walked into the kitchen, looked at my sister and just broke down and cried. She held me, tighter than anyone has ever held me, and we both bawled, and cried, and cried some more. Despite how close we are, we never hug. Ever. But I couldn’t let go, I wanted to just hide in her arms and make it all go away. At that moment, I knew.

There was no turning back. My marriage was irretrievably broken. The pain I was feeling was irreversible. The saddest, hardest, most painful feeling I have ever felt. It literally felt as if my heart was breaking. In my mind, all I was thinking, over and over was, I’m 29 and I’m getting divorced. No, no, NO, this is not happening…what happened to my life? My perfect, wonderful life?

..and why me? God, why me?

Phew, that was so hard to write…I’m right there, in my sister’s kitchen, and I’m crying. Right now, I can’t help it, it just comes back with a whoosh.

To be continued…

The beginning of the end…where it really began.

The first in a series of posts on the beginning of the end of my marriage, and a look back at our relationship, from meeting, dating, engagement, and the in-laws (that could be an entire blog in itself, but that’s a story for another day…!).

So, “where it began” really doesn’t even scratch the surface of the beginning of the end of my marriage, and I don’t think I’ve quite recounted that here yet, in almost a year. Perhaps part of it was purposeful, for not wanting to relive those moments, but now that I am so far beyond that, looking back feels more like continued healing, and, sharing the experience with all of you – those going through divorce as we speak, those recently separated, those who are well beyond as “freshly” divorced as me (September, officially). So, here goes…

It was late October, just after our two-year wedding anniversary, which came and went without so much as dinner out, no card, no romance, not much out of the ordinary. And, not that I’ve got high expectations or am high-maintenance when it comes to “stuff” in a relationship, but it just felt definedly different. And, Pete had been acting differently over the past month, sort of withdrawn, not himself, stressed out, lost in his own world. It didn’t feel terribly different than when he’d been stressed out at work in the past, as he sometimes shuts into himself and just deals with it on his own, but at the same time, it was much longer than normal, and he just wasn’t himself. We weren’t having sex, and we hadn’t for quite awhile (at least 2-3 weeks) and he was just withdrawn. There. But not. So, that night (I think it was a Sunday, but I don’t remember the actual date), as we were laying in bed and his indifference and quietness finally got to me.

I asked him what was wrong, he didn’t answer. I asked him if he was ok. He didn’t answer. I asked him if he was stressed. He said yes. I asked him if it was work. He said he didn’t know. I asked him if it was his family and he said no. I asked him if it was me – fully expecting him to say ’stop being stupid’ – and he said yes. I asked him what he meant. He said he didn’t know. He was facing away from me in bed, and curled up, and he refused to look at me. I shook him slightly and asked him to explain what he meant. By that point, my heart had sunk, my body was shaking, my knees were knocking and I was scared. This felt real, and scary, and the first inkling in my mind that something was definitely – perhaps permanently – wrong. And to think it could be us was so infathomable to me at the time, that I was in utter shock.

Then he said it.

I’m not happy. Something is wrong with me. I think it’s us. I think I don’t want to be married anymore.

Blindsided.

I was crying, shaking, bawling, but at the same time, I was angry. I didn’t understand, I thought he was jumping to conclusions. HOW COULD IT BE US?! It has never been us. So, HOW COULD IT BE US? After almost 9 years together and 2 years of marriage and never a fight between us.

How could it be us?

I just didn’t understand, and I cried, and I tried to understand, and I just didn’t. I said that I refuse to believe that, that it can’t be us, that we have a wonderful marriage, we don’t fight, we are very compatible, we have a wonderful home, two wonderful cats, a brand new bathroom that we designed top to bottom, a circle of friends, good jobs…and each other.

So, how could it be us?

We went to bed that night agreeing that we needed to talk, and figure out WHAT this was. That it WAS NOT us, that maybe he should talk to someone, that maybe he was just confused.

The next day, I woke up and thought it was one of those nightmares that just you wake up from and realize it wasn’t true, and you feel a wave of relief. Yet, it WAS true, and I was scared, and ashamed, and sad, and crushed, and well, broken. I didn’t tell anyone, I was afraid to, I was ashamed to say it, for fear of making it real. But it was real, and I had no idea where to begin, what to do, how to save it, or fix it. I wanted to run away. I wanted to hide. And most of all, I wanted it not to be us, and for Pete to come back to me and realize what we had was one of a kind, and could never, ever be recreated.

I didn’t know it at the time, but it was the beginning of the end…but also the beginning of the beginning, of the most awe-inspiring year of my life.

Wow, writing this down brings me rushing back to that moment – I can feel my knees shaking, I can feel the bewildered look in my eyes, and in Pete’s, and I never, ever want to feel that way again. Tomorrow, part II of this post – and realizing, that at 29, I was going to get divorced.

To be continued…

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Broken. It’s how I felt. This song spoke to me, for months. I was broken, I didn’t how to fix it, I didn’t know where to go. Who used to “fix” me, comfort me, make me smile, make me feel safe – was him. My love, my best friend, my all….and he wasn’t that anymore. How do you feel anything *but* broken?

But there’s so much more to the story.

As I am realizing I am coming up on my one-year blog anniversary (2/21/09), three things came to mind – one, WOW, I am almost at 30,000 hits in just under a year of blogging, two – my life feels so rich with my blog family, which complements my real family so well, and it grows by the week, which is even more amazing and three – there is so much more to the story of where it began than I shared when I first started blogging.

So, with that in mind, I am going to do a series of posts over the next week or so (either daily, or, interspersed with other posts – depending on what other fun things I opt to blog about ) on some of the things I didn’t get into on my blog in the beginning, and some of the things that happened between October 08 (when we broke up) and Feb 09 (when I started my blog), because the full story actually isn’t here in full, and I want to chronicle it. I chalk it up to my earlier days blogging…the posts were shorter, weren’t as in-depth and when I re-read them, I actually don’t connect to the posts nearly as much as I do now.

And, if there are things you feel you don’t know about my story so far, please feel free to comment, request, discuss, etc., I’d love to hear what you think as I round the bend towards year two of To Be Determined (for example, I’m really enjoying reading the backstory of According to Me – back to her first days being divorced etc., flashing back to those times). So, stay tuned, I’m going to start these posts tomorrow, and I’m actually looking forward to sharing some more of the backstory for you, but also for me. Knowing some of the posts I have in mind already, I’m seeing things in my past that I never quite put my finger on, that speak volumes now. Funny how powerful hindsight is, isn’t it?

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On a side note, I was chatting with Diary of a Divorced Guy last night on gmail, randomly (funny, as I just chatted with INRIS last week on gmail, as well. Fun to chat with my blog peeps! lol) and he asked what I’d like him to post about and them bam – check out his post – too funny, and I blushingly appreciate the oh-so-complimentary shout-out. It gave me a smile, and made me giggle. Hey, coming from a girl that is horrible at taking compliments, the fact that I am pointing it out, is huge for me

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On a second side note, and against my better judgement, in hindsight, I took a peek at boy #9 on Facebook and lo and behold he’s now “in a relationship” with who I can only imagine is the girl he had the “chance” run-in with just after the holidays, when he ended things. I of course clicked on her picture, and she doesn’t have much set for privacy (silly girl..!), so I could look at some of her pics, and well, she looks like she could be his brother! Very similar looking, in a way, and sorta average, not gorgeous, but cute, sporty-ish, maybe? I was a little bummed, which is silly, because it’s obviously in my past, but at the same time, felt good in knowing that I guess he was legit with what he said (though I did believe him then, so that really hasn’t changed) and then, tiny satisfaction that she wasn’t TOO good looking….ok that’s catty, but come on, I deserve to allow myself just a smidge of that, right??

Severe onset winter blahs.

So, it’s February 1st and I’ve realized something. Part of the reason I’ve felt stagnant lately in ways.

It’s what I am calling “severe onset winter blahs.”

It’s too cold to really DO a lot, plain and simple. It’s that time of year where there aren’t any holidays, or vacations (yet…though I am close to booking a trip, I just need some vitamin D, warmth and relaxation!!) or daylight, for that matter, and it’s just so easy to get into the routine of work, workout, home, curl up on the couch and sleep. Repeat.

Contrast that with any other season and there is much more flexibility – to enjoy the weather, to sit outside during dinner, or take a walk, and enjoy. This is that time of year where I really just need to work extra hard at being social, getting out, and not letting the cold air turn me into a hermit. It’s hard to do, but I think I am finding it even harder to do being single, and WANTING to “mingle” so to speak. I get frustrated by the weather, and limited options to be out and about, combined with having less energy (which, okay, this winter has a lot to do with Group Kick taking the place of dating or having much of a social life these days – but I’m not complaining because I love it!) and in steps severe onset winter blahs

So, this is my pledge – to try a little harder, to keep up the social life, and realize that though it’s February and we still have a ways to go for winter here in chilly Boston, the days are getting longer (as I write this at 5:07 pm, it’s still light out! That’s HUGE!), the days will get warmer, and I have a lot to look forward to, in the meantime.

Only attittude to have right now is a good one, right? Why succumb to the blahs?

When taking the chance is almost as satisfying as the challenge itself.

Round two – the “real” Kick preview this morning was jam-packed with 30 people.

WOW.

It was intense, it was exciting, it was HARD, and it was sweaty.

But it felt amazing, and the feeling was ten-fold to the “high” I felt after Friday night’s preview class.

As I again gazed around the room in between my tracks, glancing to my right to see a great friend trekking right along with us, and seeing the rest of the crew giving their all into this class, I felt like I was watching it all happen in slow-mo, from outside of my body, all the while putting every last bit of energy into each punch, kick, body rip, and jump knee. It may sound overly dramatic and “just” working out, to some, but this is something that I never in a million years thought I’d be doing, and sometimes I still can’t believe I took the chance in the first place.

It is as though taking the chance is almost as satisfying as the challenge in itself. Almost. But the challenge has been WAY more of a challenge than I was prepared for, so I gotta give credit to the challenge itself just a smidge more than taking it in the first place!

And beyond being amazed at what I’m capable of, both mentally and physically, it’s the first time in a long time that I’ve truly felt inspired and driven in the job at hand. Because, at the end of the day, what we are doing is a job, technically, one many do as a career (and something I secretly – okay not so secretly! – would love to do full-time, but that’s a story for another day…), and it feels so refreshing to love what I am doing all the way to my core. It has felt so rewarding and is teaching me so much about myself, in all aspects of my life, and I just love it, even with the ups and downs and frustrations that I’ve felt over the last month and a half.

And, my sister’s blog recaps some of the frustrations leading into today’s class, but I’m going to leave mine simple today, as I sit back and bask in the adrenaline rush that has slowly waned into the feeling of half-beaten (my body is slowly starting to ache!) and serenity.

…and enjoy the last bits of this weekend, which has literally flown by in an instant. But, it’s been worth it!