I recently shared the news on my personal blog that my marriage is ending. I know I don’t have to go into how devastated and frustrated and sad I feel. This is not something I would have ever wanted, yet it has become "the right thing." So, here I am, trying to do the right thing and finding myself in this new life, one that is, to put it mildly, quite unexpected.
There is no way for me to coherently share all the thoughts swirling in my head, from the effects this will have on my son to my feelings of utter aloneness to my dread at having to navigate the legal system. The thoughts change from moment to moment, and it’s always an avalanche that threatens to bury me.
It is too many things that require my attention, my careful consideration, my efforts to not be consumed or ruled by emotions. But on top of it all, present in every moment, in every thought, in every thing, is my son.
I wonder about the ways in which I, we, can make this as smooth and painless a transition for him as possible; I wonder if he will survive this without some vital part of him breaking; I wonder if there’s any realistic way to look at this ending as a beginning that can have its own beauty and promise. Is that possible, or is this me desperately looking for a silver lining?
I mean, I see children around me all the time whose parents are not together, and they are fine. Well-adjusted, secure, happy. So surely, it’s possible. But how? How - when you yourself are mired in your own crisis, where you’re trying to figure out what else you could have done, why it all happened as it did, and what about you is so inherently unlovable and unacceptable? This is the ending - the saying goodbye to everything you were and had and thought you’d always be and have.
But what about the beginning? The part where you find strength and can smile and hope and move forward bravely, fighting with all you’ve got to keep your child (and yourself) happy and safe and with joy and faith in their (your) hearts? It’s there, isn’t it? It exists?
I am for now choosing to believe in this beginning; to giving the end a chance to be - acknowledge it, work with it - but to letting it end. We all - my son, the man who will no longer be my husband and I - deserve this - a chance to heal, to find happiness, to work together as a family even if that family is not as we once dreamed.
I have to believe we can begin again. This pain and sadness I feel now must give way to a new life, or else it will consume me. Hope, however small, is all I have.
by Tere
Photo graciously provided by Vince Alongi, through a Creative Commons license, some rights reserved
8 responses so far ↓
Cheryl in Sacramento // Jun 10, 2008 at 1:21 pm
Hope is what keeps people going.
My mother-in-law went through a similar experience. Her husband, a pastor, left her with an ADD five year old to raise. She moved away from what was familiar to take some college classes and start over. She found a bond with her college professor who was also going through a divorce but they weren’t sure of each other with all that hurt. Two years later they started dating and were married five years later. My husband would not be the man he is if his father had been there instead of his step-father who was able to keep him in check despite the hurt felt even at the young age of five. My mother-in-law also found a man who was kind and loving where the ex was selfish.
Doors close and others open. Don’t give up hope. Love is there in one form or another. We’re here for you.
slouching mom // Jun 10, 2008 at 7:19 pm
I think you can do this, Tere. I think you can make this a beginning.
If anyone can, you can.
Stu Mark // Jun 11, 2008 at 12:05 am
I married my wife after she went through a tough divorce (they had a son and then, while my wife was pregnant with their daughter, he stepped out on her).
When I showed up, it was apparent that the divorce was tough on all of them. But I loved each of them individually, and when I became part of their family, insisted on a focus of love and support. Together, we pulled out of it and are now a rock-steady family.
Now I’m not sayin’ it was all me - My point is that focusing on the love made the struggle towards happiness worth it.
It wasn’t an easy journey, but it was completely worthwhile. I’ve seen my wife blossom as a person, and she has walked with me on my own blooming journey. And the same for the kids. We have all become friends on the trek through life. Partners. Wouldn’t have it any other way.
And your path will be your own, and your child will find his own path as well. And the going will be rough at times. But I am very sure that your love will guide the way, like a huge light in the darkness.
InTheFastLane // Jun 11, 2008 at 7:02 am
Sometimes, all you have is hope for a better tomorrow. One day at a time, always with what is best for you and your son, being forefront. I think the fact that you are choses to look at this as a beginning, means that you, and Max will be fine.
Margarita // Jun 11, 2008 at 9:29 am
Ditto to what everyone else has been saying.
We’re stronger than we think are. Max and you will be okay. I know you guys will get through it and come out on top.
Holly // Jun 11, 2008 at 1:22 pm
With Max foremost in your mind and your hope for a new beginning, things just have to turn out all right.
Tere // Jun 15, 2008 at 4:51 am
Guys, thank you all. These comments mean a great deal to me.
Emma // Jun 16, 2008 at 5:58 am
Don’t worry too much about Max, my parents got divorced when I was around a year old and as an adult I’m just happy that they didn’t stay in a situation that was unhealthy for any or all of us. It makes me feel better knowing them as separate people and seeing how much better they are apart. He seems like a tough little cookie, he’ll pull through just like you will. Hang in there my dear.
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