I mentioned in my last post that I have started to accept that being divorced is something that happened, but not who I am. I'm going to try not to dwell on it, because the tone of this blog is hopeful and looking forward, not depressing and looking back.
For the most part, on most days, I'm ok. But this time of year is really hard for a multitude of reasons. The ex's birthday is tomorrow. Fall was our favorite time of year, which is why we planned a beautiful wedding full of chocolate browns and bright oranges and pumpkin pie... which is why watching my marriage crumble over the course of one fall two years ago made things even harder.
I now have a really tough relationship with September. So many things this month have made me happy - the arrival of the pumpkin spice latte, football season, hockey training camp, cool weather and the chance to break out the boots, sweaters, and hoodies. But now all I can think about it how terrible I felt during those first few weeks, and then it brings back all of the bad feelings I've been fighting with for two years.
I’m supposed to feel good about being single, right? I’m supposed to be happy that I escaped a bad situation, that I refused to stay with a man who wasn’t faithful and that I deserve better. I’m supposed to be confident in my decisions and happy with my life and content as a strong, independent woman. Sometimes I am. But often, including this week, I am definitely not.
I’m pissed. It’s nearly two years, and the first emotion I feel when I think about it is still anger. I was never given a choice or the chance to fix things. I was caught completely off-guard, betrayed by the one person I thought I could trust, and in the blink of an eye everything I believed was taken away from me.
I’m jaded. I don’t believe in soul mates or everlasting love right now. I’m just waiting for the next of my friends to get a divorce. I hate going to weddings because all they do is remind me of what I don’t have. And that makes me feel guilty for not being completely happy for my friends, and then I feel even worse.
I’m sad. I’m lonely. Cold winter nights once spent in someone else’s arms feel a lot longer and a lot colder now that I spend them alone. I miss the little things – a shoulder to lean on when I have a rough day at work… someone to kill spiders… someone to share inside jokes with. When I feel sad, I wonder if I’m not so jaded after all, because I so desperately want to feel all that again.
I’m frustrated. New York might be the hardest place on earth to meet available men, and I feel like I’m having even worse luck than most. I can count the number of real, decent dates I’ve been on in the past two years, and it’s not many. I haven’t met a guy I was interested in since Memorial Day. The glamorous lifestyle my friends think I live is completely a lie. And the worst part is that I don’t even know where to start. I can’t bring myself to sign up for an online dating site, and I work in Connecticut, and my friends aren’t the kinds to have many male friends. And so I feel stuck, with nowhere to go. I could very easily walk into any bar in this city on any night and find someone to have meaningless sex with. And I have, trust me. But I'm over that, and I don't want that anymore. I want something that's going to last more than one night.
I’m confused. I have reached the point where I wonder if I made the right decision. Maybe I should have tried harder. Maybe there isn’t another person out there who I’ll connect with the way I connected with my ex. Maybe there isn’t another guy who would enjoy talking about football in one breath and Shakespeare in the next. I was perpetually single before him; what’s to say I won’t be perpetually single from now on? I’m not saying I need a man to be happy… I’m just saying I don’t want to be alone forever, and any woman who tells you otherwise is insane.
I’m stuck. When things first went down, I was so determined to not fall apart. I threw all of my energy into school, finding a job, moving to New York, finding another job. When I sorted out all of the other unknowns in my life and settled down, I allowed all of the feelings I’d repressed to boil up to the surface. I now have time to think. I don’t have anything else to plan for. And it’s terrifying. Now that I want to talk, and I want to try to work this all out, I feel like my friends are sick of hearing about it. “It’s been two years,” I imagine them saying. “Why can’t she move on?” Maybe if I’d let myself fall apart at the beginning, I’d be better off now. Maybe if I made the time – and money – for real therapy, I’d be ok. But right now I feel like I’m treading water, barely keeping my head up, and I’m a little bit scared.
I like to think this is just a bad period. I tell myself I’m going to get through it. I got through those first few weeks, when I cried myself to sleep every night. I keep thinking I have to turn the corner eventually. Right now, though, I’m just not sure.
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