Facebook Relationship Status married to …. actually that is no longer relevant

I really have not blogged a great deal about the process of divorce.

This process we are going through.

I keep looking at my Facebook relationship status and it says “married” and then I think, no that is not what we are.

Is it complicated or are we separated ….or should I just leave it until we are divorced, and then I only have to push one button.

It is not the time it takes to press the one button, it is just that it again adds “a time stamp” to this process.

It is just another marker on this shit route.  This festival of fucked-up-ness.  I am sure that isn’t a word, but today I really am not giving two flamingos.

Looking at “married” on Facebook somehow disturbs me.   It really does.  I think we aren’t actually – we are in the “between place” — that place of nearly and not at all.

We are no longer married.  Sure we are going through the process so we can get an official document that tells us we aren’t.  But that is just waiting for a sheet of paper?

In my head, and my heart, we are no longer married.  The 20 December 2013 was a defining date in my world.  When things shifted.  A great deal.

In some ways good, in some ways not so good.  I really have tried to constantly keep my eye fixed on the silver lining …. and anyone who knows me will tell you that that is decidedly not my normal style.

I have moved through the various processes of grief a lot faster than I thought I would be able to.  No doubt it is more of a circle of grief, and I will have to go over a few of the ones I breezed over before.

I have been stoic and accepting, and have rolled with this process like a fucking trooper I have.  If there is a shirt for being “accepting and adult” then shits bells I need to get it.

We are no longer married.  We have both stopped wearing our wedding rings.

He did first, and that really hurt me.  It really distressed me.  I know it is silly, but it really distressed me.  I kept thinking “put your freaking ring on …… do it” and then he didn’t.

I kept wearing mine.  Maybe it was whilst I thought that things were not going to go the way I was being told they were going to go.

Then one morning I realised that I can’t actually wear it anymore.  And I took it off.

On that day I told three people we were going through a divorce.  And then three more.  I do not feel married anymore.

No matter how long this process is or how long that piece of paper takes to come through, it is over.  We are no longer married.

This is just the details of that process.

The upcoming m&f (mediation and facilitation) meeting has got me feeling anxious and terrified.  I feel like I am going to be stepping into a room that I am ill prepared to face, and I am terrified of going there.  I know it is a process and we will all sit there like grown ups, but I am not sure I am quite ready to be that grown up, not today.

Every part of me is screaming to postpone to just give myself a few more days to get my head into the right place.

I have asked to postpone it.

I do realise that pushing out and rescheduling something that is horrible and frightening, is not the best way to deal with a heightened anxiety issue.

Anxiety is a bitch, and she crawls in and whispers.

Eventually you can’t actually remember what the problem was because she has created an entirely different set of issues, fueled by anxiety and your mind winding out of control.

So that is how I am feeling today.  Riding that Anxiety Bitch into the sunset as I drink a large glass of wine and listen to Eminem (yep, that tells you something about my mind set right now)

I do want this divorce over with.

I want to click my heels three times like Dorothy and I want it all to be done.  And dusted.

I just do not want to go through the process as we divvy up our lives — it is now down to a spreadsheet, costs, and who should pay and how much ……. cheese and rice how the hell did we get here?

It doesn’t really matter anymore.  We are here.

And no we are no longer married.  But why am I so reluctant to click that stooopid button on Facebook?  But that bitch is getting clicked tomorrow.  Not today, I am just going to stare at it a bit more and sip my wine and listen to Slim Shady.

facebookstatus

Advertisements

How are you doing? {said as someone leans in close with sincerity}

someecards

I am asked several times a day “how are you doing?” — and the person is really wanting to know “how are you coping with this divorce?  how are you getting through your day?  have you cried much today?  how are you doing when everyone is asking you how you are doing?”

Well that is what I hear.

The answer is that I am doing better than I thought I would be.

I am not fine, everything is not great, but I seem to be okay.

I have moved through the various steps of grief with alarming speed.   I realise this may mean I will need return to one of the steps that I have progressed through too quickly at a later stage.  Really “unpack my feelings” or “really be honest with myself” about how I actually feel.  Or what I think, or what ever.

I know that, or I suspect that.  But I can deal with that later.  Then when I need to.

Nothing in this process is great.  Nothing in this process makes me smile or gives me joy.

I find myself running out of steam a bit each day – and feeling an overwhelming urge just to lie down and take a really long sleep. And when I wake up, it will all be over.  Done and dusted.   I will not have to face all the details and stuff of a life being pulled apart one strand at a time.

Most of me does not want to be here.  I just want it to be over, done.  I want to wake up on the other side of this.

Kennith and I are working through a divorce facilitator and  mediator.  Together we sit with them for 2 hour sessions.  In these sessions we finalise our lives together.  And apart. Decide and try to agree on how we will move forward.  Apart.  Separated legally.

We are forever connected, forever joined, forever part, but we are facing this so that we can be a part, no longer together, no longer joined.

It is clean and neat.  There is far less crockery being thrown than I would imagine are associated with most “marriages that end….”

There are a lot of spreadsheets, and lists, and agreeing and giving in when you realise it is not worth the fight, and to try to keep the process amicable.  And moving forward.

I think no matter how mature a couple is, someone is going to end up arguing about the carpet.

It is not about the carpet.  It never is.  It is the carpet that will make you cry, and swear and curse.  If your partner leaves with the carpet even though you have agreed they can have the carpet, then you will feel like you have died —- and you are really just trying to live and survive the day.

I think the one redeeming thing in this process — and to be honest I am finding it hard to notice this as a redeeming factor, so bear with me as I go off on a bit of a tangent  — I am not trapped in the “what if?” in the breakdown of this relationship.

Nothing in me is going “what if we got back together? what if he changes his mind?  what if he realises that this has all been a massive bad decision?  what if he realises that I am what he needs? what if? what if? what if? what the fuck if?”

I know that Kennith is not going to retract what he has said and done.  He is resolute on this path.

It is not easy for him, but he did not go into this lightly.  This is what he wants, and he is not going to appear on my doorstep, hat in hand asking me for forgiveness because he has changed his mind.

There is no “what if” scenario here.

He has made that abundantly clear.  I have asked him to change his mind, to reconsider, to not do this — I did in the first month when I was trying to really understand that THIS, THIS was actually happening.

Nothing I could say or do was going to change the course of this action.  The outcome.

I could choose to fight it — but I realised that fighting it would not change the outcome.

It would just make it harder for everyone, and me and my kids.  I can’t be {more} broken in this process.  I still need to get up every morning, face my day and be the support to my kids that they need because their lives are on their heads – no matter how much of a shocker of a day I have had, I need to give a semblance of sanity and “wearing my big girl panties.”

My “lose my shit” time is after 20h30 — kids are asleep, I am alone and if I want, I can go monkey then.

This way I know that if I need to have a total loss of sanity, I can diarise it for after 20h30.  Inevitably at that point, I am content to sit on the couch, drink my wine, eat some olives and let the feelings wash over me.  Sometimes crash over me.

As painful as it was to grasp that “he is not going to change his mind” is that it have given me certainty to hold on to.

It has given me the insight to not have to dwell on the “what if?” and the fantasy of waking up tomorrow, with my husband back and my family not broken anymore.

Not to set my course of action by a bobbing forever moving, and unrealistic mirage on the ocean.

I have only fixed details to work with.  It has kept the voices in my head free from arguing with me about the “what if” component.

Not being stuck in that repeat cycle of “what if?” has been a real gift.

It is a strange gift – but it is a gift, because all my energy is focused on moving ahead.

Looking up and forward.  Not looking back and hoping, dreaming, pining, fantasizing.

Looking up and forward. Not always with a happy countenance, often with red swollen eyelids, and a rather haggard expression, but I only have to look one way.

Looking up and forward.  I do not need to spend the scarce energy resources I have looking back and wishing, dreaming and wondering “what if” …

Does that sound as insane to you as it does to me?