engagement ringI remember when he proposed, almost ten years ago. I was afraid to say yes, but I did.

I can recall the morning of our wedding, feeling so unsure, scared. I was young, I thought it was normal, cold feet and all.

On our honeymoon, I cried. A lot. I blamed exhaustion. I mean do couples really have sex on the first night of their honeymoon? Oh, right, I guess some people do.

Our marriage was flawed, but whose wasn’t, I rationalized. We said vows, we loved each other, we would work it out.

It wasn’t until I was in my early 30’s that I started seriously questioning my husband’s integrity as a man and his commitment to our marriage. But that only made me try harder. I loved him, I was happy (or so I thought).

Wasn’t that enough?

No. I learned the answer is no. It is not enough.

When my husband left me and we agreed to divorce, it felt like the ground beneath my feet crumbled.

Friends and family kept telling me I was going to be ok, that I was strong enough to get past it.

I believed in their words and accepted their love and support. They were right. I did get through it and came out with an incredible sense of clarity about my marriage.

I let go of my love, I let go of the anger (somewhat). I made the commitment to myself to be happy. That was my biggest struggle toward the end of my marriage—all I wanted was to be happy with the man I married. But he didn’t want the same thing, so what’s a girl to do.

It didn’t matter how hard I tried because you can’t make someone else happy, and you can’t make someone else try.

I don’t regret it though.

My marriage taught me that unless I gave my all, unless I strived to live my life with no regrets, that I wouldn’t truly be satisfied and clarity wouldn’t exist because in its place would lie wonder, doubt, curiosity.

The Moment He Lost His Charm

downloadThere was an exact moment when it happened, when my heart closed itself to him.

There will never be another moment like that. I know it’s final.

The day I left that part of him, that part of us, go, I started breathing again.

I also gained strength from the knowledge that I didn’t need him, I didn’t want him, and I never would again.

He’s a part of my life, we will always be connected, tethered to one another as parents, but I will never forget that moment that I knew, without a doubt, there would never again be an “us.”

He may have left me. He’s the one who moved out. But I have moved on.

What he gave me was so much more than what he took.

He freed me.

I no longer have to be burdened as the cause for his unhappiness.

I  was never the source anyways.

I know, with every beat of my heart, that I am no longer his.

Knowing that enables me to start living a greater life and experience an even greater love, one day.

Wave of Sadness

wavesplashThe sadness will come and go, this I know.

I allow myself to feel the full weight of it.

Feel it pressing me down farther than where I want to be.

Just like the past, I ride the waves of emotion, let them wash over me and serve as reminders of what my life once was, and the dreams I had for our lives together.

But I will not allow the waves to knock me over. I wipe away the tears, push the sadness to the back of my mind, and try to be more present in the moment.

We will be parents, we may even be friends again, one day, but what once was can never be again. Accepting that isn’t easy, and it’s not quick. It’s a process.

The nights are the hardest. It’s when I miss him the most. I want to reach for him, but he’s not there.

It’s lonely here, alone with my thoughts. I wonder why he couldn’t love me.

Surely there is something wrong with him. That’s easier than thinking there is something wrong with me, that I am unloveable.

I feel our love, our lives, slip right through my fingers.

I am helpless to stop the loss because I can’t do it alone anymore.

The weight of it is too much.

So I try to roll with it, to let it go bit-by-bit.

Beyond the Now

hazeMy days are foggy. Like haze and all things heavy.

I am light, as measured by pounds on a scale. And yet…

It’s deceiving because I don’t feel anything but weighted, weighed down by my situation, the uncertainty of it all.

My heart is solid rock. My mind a gauzy tangled web.

I wish to see beyond the now. I want a glimpse of the happiness that is on the other side.

I know it’s too soon to be past it. Grief and sorrow don’t move that fast, even for me.

Yet still I wish for a hint of what’s to come, a sense of what possibilities can unfold.

Just a peek of what’s next, a tiny glimmer of hope to get me through.