A very dear friend told me today that the wisest thing I can do right now is simply wait.
“Wait, wait, wait,” she said. “I promise it will get better.”
Another very dear friend likes to say to me, “Patience, Grasshopper. Patience.”
This is all very wise advice. But so difficult to follow. This is not a patient grasshopper, no, no. Terrible, flawed, always-hopping grasshopper.
I am weary from my hopping. Fragile. Not sleeping well. Not eating well.
The girls are weary, fragile, not sleeping well either. This divorce stuff is no fun. It’s difficult to see what life could be, how life could ever feel safe, secure. It is difficult not to attribute every tantrum to permanent scarring. I worry about the girls. I worry about me. I chew my nails. I cry.
And yet, I think, if this is the worst the girls have had to endure, well, it could be so much worse. Maybe?
Today, I needed to work on my resume. This means Monday’s Mommy Camp consisted of three movies and endless granola bars and juiceboxes. I’m not proud of it, but I tell myself I’d be less proud of me if I weren’t looking for work, so Uncle Disney won’t kill them for a day here and there.
These are scary times. Ghouls in every mental closet, waiting to pop out. I tread lightly. My insides feel like coiled rice paper, and if I step too quickly, turn too suddenly, they will tear.
I find myself sweating a lot, and it’s not just the summer heat.
And I’ve got support. People who care. I think of people in similar situations, people without the love that continues to come my way. I’m lucky. It’s peculiar how acknowledged blessings and rampant fear can co-exist. Unlikely, uneasy bedmates. They curl up together night after night after night. Rarely talking. But aware of each other, always aware.
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Waiting sounds so simple. But it’s the hardest thing.
Tom Waits is the only awesome waits I know. It’s good you are able to see the beauty and goodness in your life, as well as The Rest. That kind of perspective is one of the reasons I come here every blessed day.
Yep – you said it.
Love, from another sweaty grasshopper
xo
I spent a months holding it all together (just) around my daughter (who was 4yo) and then crying at the kitchen sink. Every time I washed dishes it would all come bursting out. But you know what? The last time I can recall crying about my divorce? Um….. 1996.
And fair enough, I have three kids and can barely remember what I had for breakfast (or if?) but the take-home message is: It gets better. Really. And faster than you expect. Go listen to Alanis Morrisette’s first album (hey, it was the 90′s!) jump right in to it, wallow in it, and come bursting out the other side. And everyone who loves you will be cheering when you do : )
aww. I love these comments, they are so encouraging I feel encouraged and I am not divorced! What great folks!
I just wanted to say, there is a light at the end of this dark and lonely tunnel. I know there is. You’re gonna make it!
I come here every day, too. You are the most talented writer. Even reading about the tough stuff is exquisite. I don’t care what you write about, just keep writing for us.
mmm…have to say I am right there with you. everything you say is rings ridiculously true in my camp. tantrums, job search, mental anguish and endless gratitude and support. you are not alone in the wait. i’d love to walk through those velvet curtains to the other side together…i want to say hopefully sooner than later, but i know god’s got some sick reason for all this anguish. your writing is spectacular, you know…. i know, who cares right now, huh? have i told you our divorce time line is freakishly synchronized? as a wise woman once told me, “your babies will be okay. you will too.”
not sure why, but feel compelled to send you to: http://www.sweetsalty.com. totally different topic, but is it really? you’ve probably read her stuff before. great when i just want to marinade in the grief and beauty. i will leave you alone now…:)
*sigh*
I know.
I wish I didn’t know…but I know.
This…
“It’s peculiar how acknowledged blessings and rampant fear can co-exist. Unlikely, uneasy bedmates. They curl up together night after night after night. Rarely talking. But aware of each other, always aware.”
Yes…this.
Hang in there. Your girls have an amazing, talented, and loving mother and they will always feel that.
Waiting sucks. Fear sucks. Hopping too much sucks. Worrying sucks. All this struggle sucks.
Some kinda pep talk, huh?
Hang in there!
You can survive this…you survived being told you were pregnant even though you knew that couldn’t be true…no heart attack. I was totally proud of that moment because I would have had the heart attack…
You really are a kick-ass woman and you can totally do this. I have complete faith in you because I know you will make it through this.
Kids are very resilient. They will bounce back from this and learn a lot about love in the process. I read a study in one of my psychology books in college that said divorce has the biggest effect on college age children because they feel as soon as they left the home their parents couldn’t stand to be together anymore and its their fault they split. Your girls are way less likely to feel any guilt about your divorce. They’re too young to harbor those type of feelings.
Keep your head up. It does get better…
I am going through a similar situation to yours and one particularly bad day I called one of my wise friends to cry. She told me something I remind myself of quite often: “…ok, so this day is fucked. Tomorrow might be fucked too. But soon you’ll hit a day that isn’t completely fucked. That’s why you need to get through today.”
I’m a random stranger but I’m thinking of you and, hey, every little bit helps right?
Wait a second. I thought I was the only one who kept waiting for things to get better, easier, or whatever?! Every year my mom tells me it will get easier. I keep waiting.
These people who keep saying this…what are they thinking?
Why don’t they just say “It’s going to suck a lot, and you won’t have any time for yourself for the next 10 years. You’ll be lucky if you have time to take a shower or shop for underwear for an hour by yourself. And also, by the way, all your money will be used to buy clothes and shoes and toys for your kids that they will outgrow, or lose (or not wear at all) or break in a week, and not appreciate at ALL. And they will only laugh in the face of your suffering because they have no conscience at all!”
At least it would be more honest.
If it helps, I’m feelin’ your pain today sista. You’re not alone in your misery. Hang in there.
Oh so true…I can relate to all the hopping you speak of. Your girls will be fine with uncle Disney every now and then. It could be MUCH worse. They have a mom who loves them dearly and is doing her best by them.
Scary, yes. I’m thankful you’re a strong woman with a good support system. I know you’ll not only survive but flourish. It’ll happen.
Oh, yes. Been there, done that. ALL of it and more. It SUCKS. But it will get better. And worse. Over and over and over again. Even years down the road you may have “what if” moments. But in between there will be GOOD times. Even if only a minute here and there in the beginning, then more and more along the way. You can’t FORCE things, but don’t have to WAIT for anything, either. We do what we have to do and we make it.
Nothing wrong with you a hundred dollars wouldn’t fix.
Sh*t, Jenny Doesn’t Wait! I get it; the ads on your blog probably foot uncle Disney’s bills. But 1-800-SUICIDE, to me, reads like an ill socketed suggestion.
(Then again so does footing uncle Disney’s bills. This is obviously my problem and not yours.)