Stop. Hammer Time.

2 days after my 34th birthday, my husband announced he wanted a divorce. When he proposed, he interrupted my reply with "Before you say anything, you need to know I don't believe in divorce. You need to be sure."

The Fates have a sense of humor, don't they?

I think the night he told me he wanted out was one of the most honest talks we ever had. We both knew it wasn't working for us. It hadn't been for years. Still, I was devastated.  I had failed.  I wasn't good enough. Again.

Mostly everyone wasn't surprised. Many suggested counseling and accused him of "not trying enough" when I said he wouldn't agree to it.  But what they wouldn't understand is that sometimes it's just too late. Marriages go south when we don't communicate and, yes, communication can be learned, but sometimes the damage is just too deep.  When I suggested counseling, he said something incredibly true: "Why bother? We are who we are. We'll try for a little while and then just slip back into old habits. I don't see myself committing to change. It's prolonging the inevitable."

It's cynical... but it's an honest assessment. When you get to the point of keeping score--- who does the laundry, who puts it away, who notices when the other does something nice, who pays a compliment, who attempts a romantic night--- that's the beginning of the end.  That's when you need to stop and fix behaviors and expectations and disappointments and resentments.  When you've gone a lifetime of keeping score, you may consciously try to stop it, try to change the dynamics but it's become so ingrained in the relationship that on some unconscious level you're still posing a challenge: "Ok. Your move."

Two months before my birthday that same year, I had taken a job that my gut said was trouble.  Not being sure if I was an optimist or a fool, I gave into the dollar signs and opportunity to work on more interesting assignments and took it.  (A few years later, my gut would be taunting me with a sing-song "toldja so" over and over.  That's another post.)  After the initial shock of the impending divorce subsided, I took an honest look at my finances.  I was making enough money to keep the house and support myself. I was scared to death but the ground was solid enough for me to try.


Before he moved out, I had never really lived alone--- having a single dorm doesn't really count. I was always good at budgeting and I wasn't afraid to tackle the kitchen sink's trap. But noticing how quiet the house is with just me in.... cooking for one.... not scheduling a shower around someone else in the bathroom..... making major purchases without needing to discuss it with anyone else.... those were the odd moments my brain couldn't reconcile.  I remember I was about to spend $700-something on a new mattress and I felt lost because I didn't have to discuss it with anyone. For the first time.  Ever.  It was the oddest sensation.  I still don't know to properly name or describe it.

These days I struggle with daily life.  Some days I consider brushing my teeth and getting dressed an accomplishment. Other days I bounce out of bed, exercise, shower, dress, and then tackle a project without losing steam. Sometimes I force myself to do something and then abandon it half way through because I just can't. A friend wrote something recently that ended with someone trying to take just a tiny step back to normalcy. It reminded me of my first tiny step back to normalcy after the divorce, without which I don't think I would have ever bought that mattress.  I hung a picture.

Yep.  That's it. As she wrote in her story "It's so small. It's so easy."

I hung a picture.  I chose the print. I decided where it would go.  I steadied the nail against the freshly painted wall.  I ignored the fear of causing the wall to crack from floor to ceiling. I tapped the nail's head gently but firmly. I balanced the hook on it.  I shifted the right corner up to make it even. I put the hammer away.  The satisfaction I found in that tiny moment was greater than paying off the bills the first month on a single salary.

My life is incredibly different now.  I have time and all the support I could ever want to recover.

I just need to find a new print and my hammer.

In the beginning, there was darkness...

I have no idea what I'm doing here.

I'm tired and depressed and anxious and I need to let things out. 

You get to read and comment, if you so wish.

I just read an article entitled "Why Do I Waste So Much Time?" It had 6 suggestions: I'm tired, I'm depressed, I have ADHD, I have anxiety, I'm stressed, I have OCD. 

I didn't win the grand prize but I came in a close 2nd with 5 of the 6.

And it's not "Oh Poor Me".  Everything they listed feeds on each other. OCD is the worst.  My therapist tells me it's the "doubting disease".  Since I question everything, I never really have an answer.

I don't know how typing here will help.  But I'm going to give it a shot.

Don't expect anything profound.  Don't be surprised if I don't post for months at a time.  Don't feel cheated if I only post a line or two that make absolutely no sense.

Actually...... screw that.  Feel and think whatever you want.  That's your prerogative.  What I post is mine.  So I'll just babble about whatever I want. 

There's nobody but me in here.