Tag: mother

Divorced Friends

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I remember hearing my mom talk about how there are different friends for different times in a persons life… You have your high school friends, the college friends, your mom groups, your couple friends… I’m not saying these groups are mutually exclusive. But they all represent different parts of who each of us are as a person.

When I was going through my divorce I was terrified. It was literally the most miserable experience I could imagine. I was totally unprepared. I remember feeling like I was drowning. I couldn’t eat. I couldn’t sleep. I could barely think. Yet here I was in the middle of a contentious divorce. It wasn’t pretty. I needed to be at my best. And I clearly was not. (It’s like someone asking you to run a marathon tomorrow..with no previous training..and did I mention you have the flu?) I felt like a failure.

So I would try to seek some kind of relief. Some words of wisdom. I felt very alone. I didn’t know how to make it through my divorce. I didn’t know if I would be ok.. I asked Google. I literally typed it into Google ‘How to get through my divorce..’ (and I apparently wasn’t the only one..) She didn’t show me what I was looking for. (In my mind Google is a girl..) She sent me to sites that told me how to make lists and organize your visitation schedule. Advice on divorce lawyers. How to pray. How to ‘forgive.’ It wasn’t what I needed. I needed a real live person who had been in my shoes before. Who understood how divorce feels.

Married friends didn’t understand. How could they? I know that they cared..and that they were trying. But their advice seemed critical. These people knew how to be married..not how it feels to be getting divorced. They were going home to their husbands everyday.

That’s how I acquired my DF’s. Divorced friends. The people who also had driven by their X’s house at midnight on New Years Eve and realize this is perfectly acceptable ‘going through a divorce’ behavior. These people understand that sometimes you have to take a shower just so you have a place to sob uncontrollably. They know that Holidays are brutal. They tell you to avoid all TV commercials in the month of February. They don’t expect that you should be better in a few months..they know it will probably be a few years. They know what it’s like to pack suitcases for kids that you have spent only a handful of nights apart from since their birth- and send them off with the person who recently ripped out your heart. They won’t say dumb crap like it will be ok..it’s for the best..you’re not alone..you’re better off. They understand that this f***ing sucks and it’s going to suck for a really long time. So get used to it. They are willing to talk endlessly about what a complete narcissistic asshole your X is and how much you wish you were still married-and they don’t see any need to point out how that makes absolutely no sense whatsoever. They will hate the other woman passionately for you-just because. They get it..they know..they are divorced.. They have been in my shoes. 👠

The Fabulous Four

 

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We are a team now. The Fabulous Four! Or maybe it’s the fabulous three..

With divorce things in your family change. It’s not what I planned- but it has been an interesting transformation. There are no longer two parents to take care of everything.. Now there is one. And she’s tired. And overwhelmed. And anxious. And did I mention tired??

At first I actually believed I would take care of everything. I’m the adult. The parent. My kids didn’t ask for this. In fact it was the opposite. They begged for no divorce. Please don’t! That was their vote. However we all learned pretty quick that it only takes one yes vote..then poof. Divorced.

I have 2 teenagers (boys) and a preteen (daughter)…and somehow we have worked out a system. I couldn’t do it without them. Now don’t get the wrong idea…not everyone is always willing..they are regular kids. They aren’t running around here asking for chores. “Quick mom! Tell me something I can do to make your life easier..” (They actually have perfected the art of ‘laying low’) Sometimes they pout. The always sigh and roll their eyes. They aren’t exactly happy about it.. But by God-we are a team- and when it comes down to it they always take their place on the field. That’s part of being a divorced kids. You grow up faster. No time to sit the bench.

My oldest is 18. He drives!! This is obviously his gift to the family. He drives a truck..so did I mention he is in charge of the trash? Naturally. He also is the best at moving furniture and lifting heavy things. He checks the oil in things. He changes lightbulbs. He jumpstarts dead batteries.. He’s our muscle. He will also have my back when I am checking out creepy noises in the garage.

# 2 is smart. Like seriously smart. He can do math. He helps with homework. He is technologically inclined. He resets the router-hooks up electronics- fixes my computer.. He also reads directions. So anything that requires more than 2 steps to put together- he’s your go to guy. He is responsible (and patient) enough to wait for the cable man. He’s the kid I call with specific requests like ‘go to the mailbox and see if my check from your dad is here’ because 1) he will answer the phone and 2) he will do it.

My daughter is mini me in training. She knows what’s going on. She makes everyone’s business her business. She eavesdrops as a hobby- and that can be quite useful. She loves all of our pets..so she naturally gets to assume all pet care responsibility. She feeds them and let’s them outside without being asked. She also passes out fashion advice (sigh) as needed. She knows how to make brownies and macaroni and cheese. She will make everyone breakfast. She is learning to sew. She can find stuff (because she is a girl..) She is happy and that reminds the rest of us to be happy too.

My kids have bonded in a way that I never expected. The 3 of them maneuver between 2 households, and all the chaos that comes with that, together. It is an experience that is uniquely there own. They have supported each other with the complete understanding that only they can provide for one another. They are each other’s ‘constant.’

We are a team… We mutually respect each other as team members do. It’s how we deal..how we cope. I have to I am admit I didn’t expect to see how the we would all pull together. It makes me proud. This experience has forced us to deal with things differently than we ever would have if there was no divorce. My kids are on the front lines of this family… And they are fabulous.

Divorce Shoes….

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My divorce shoes… I had divorce shoes. I still do! They were heels. After my X moved out I was devastated. It took me months to even begin to wrap my head around what was happening. As I began to fight my way out of the fog… I discovered my divorce shoes. I don’t remember how it happened- but it might be one of the all time hands down best accidental discoveries of my entire life. I wore high heels. Everywhere. Black ones, blue ones, even red. Wedges. Boots. Fancy ones. All kinds! No discrimination here. If they were heels I wore them. Leopard print and patent leather. Sparkly and suede. Some were expensive…most were not. I remember seeing a friend one time who mentioned that another friend had seen me at the grocery store….’WEARING HEELS.’ Yes- my shoes were that noteworthy. They were receiving third party sightings.

Divorce is always hard. When your husband leaves you for his lawyer girlfriend…brutal. I felt the rejection deeply. It hurt. I felt fat and frumpy and pathetic. I was invisible. My shoes made me feel better. They were one high heeled step in the right direction. They helped revive that tiny spark of pride buried deep inside. I wore those shoes with determination. The worse I felt the higher they got. No more house wife uniform of sweat pants and sketchers. No way… This chic was wearing heels to Walmart! At one point I would have ran a friggen marathon in those shoes. I actually wore them around my house. For no reason. By myself.  On Sunday afternoons. I held my head high and got dressed with purpose. No more slouchy comfortable shoes for me. My life was no longer comfortable…and I had the shoes to prove it. By God if I can survive a divorce with 3 kids- I can wear 3 inch heels at the f***ing mall. Bring it. Comfort isn’t always the most important thing- sometimes its survival- in whatever form that may be.

Divorce shoes…I love you. You were always there for me…