Mavis: Morning's Light

Last night over tapas, we tried. We really gave it our best. Armed with a $9 martini and Asian meatballs, I was ready. Him, fresh off a wildly productive counseling session that had left him feeling strong and focused. We laid it all on the line. 

As so many things in our history had begun, things started out optimistically. We were happy that the car ride over had been uneventful and I could tell that we each were secretly celebrating the fact that maybe, despite everything that was abnormal about our new situation, we could somehow use it to our advantage and ultimately grow as people as a result of our new-found separation and circumstances. 

We were unscripted and raw. Hurt and wounded and open for the other to see. And as we each spoke our peace, it became clear that we never really figured out how to communicate with one another. A two and a half year marriage and a nearly 3 year courtship and we never figured it out. Never was it more evident that this was our most glaring shortcoming as it was last night.

Midway through dinner, we had reached our conclusion. That we were ultimately not the ones who were going to make one another truly happy. And as painful as it was to hear it last night, it's harder still to write it here... the ultimate white flag, flapping in the wind for the world to see.

And right there, it died.

But because we had to sit there and endure the public spectacle of it all, we felt compelled to attempt to breathe life into it. So we tried. We indulged one another's crazy ideas of weekend trips and made the exhaustive effort it would take to resuscitate the relationship seem like child's play; and for a few hours, we believed we could do it.

After dinner, he showed me his new apartment. And I genuinely liked it. I could see him there - I could envision him in the space, living his life... doing the things that he loves to do. So in my temporary madness I tried to make a joke about him finally being free of the torment of the cats and my incessant nagging. To which he responded that more than anything, he'd miss those things... "his family."

Crushed, we tried to sleep. Him in the disheveled and less than ideal bachelor pad he'd been relegated to, and me - the misfit estranged wife in a room that symbolized the life that I had willfully chosen to no longer be a part of.

Morning came and we both confessed that neither of us had slept. Consumed by our thoughts and restless, we'd both experienced simultaneously the awkward discomfort of having realized that it was over... together, but also alone. Without knowing what the other was thinking, we'd lay awake practically the entire night feeling terribly about the fact that we had given the other person hope when we knew it was hopeless to think that anything was salvageable. All of a sudden, we realized that any attempts to save the relationship were now more damaging than just letting it go. And so with the brightness and clarity of daylight, we were once again able to see the white flag; and instead of turning away, we faced it - sadly but bravely - and decided to let one another go. 

If I should stay 
Well I would only be in your way 
And so I'll go, and yet I know 
That I'll think of you each step of my way 

And I will always love you 
I will always love you 

Bittersweet memories 
That's all I have and all I'm taking with me 
Good-bye, oh please don't cry 
Cause we both know that I'm not what you need 

But I will always love you 
I will always love you 

And I hope life will treat you kind 
And I hope that you have all 
That you ever dreamed of 
Oh I do wish you joy and I wish you happiness 
But above all of this, I wish you love 
I love you, I will always love you. 

Mavis: Regret

About a week ago I had some buyers remorse on this whole separation situation. I'm not sure if what I experienced is part of what is natural for someone who is going through this to experience or not. I can't imagine there's a standard set of emotions/thoughts/actions that applies to every single person who goes through this kind of thing, but perhaps there are some things that are more "normal" than others. Here's what I'm talking about.

I'd been intent on this for awhile. I was confident that we'd exhausted all options and that if we stayed together, we'd be on a fast track to Nowheresville. I'd wake up in some college town in 15 years and be 50 years old, with no children, in a big, beautiful but empty house with nothing in my life, other than my partner,  resembling anything that I'd ever worked or wished to have within my reach. In short, I'd never have the life I wanted.

I needed a plan - I needed to be out. And fast. Life is short.

So I created a plan and followed through with it, which is 100% my style to do. I generally don't rest on my laurels when there's some action that needs to occur; if something needs a push to move forward, I'll make sure it happens. This is how I work and this is how I live.

But it scares me that I'm this way and this is where the regret starts to slip in.

Am I so non-negotiable in how I deal with things that any attempt at reconciliation never really stood a chance? Am I so rigid and so uncompromising that I killed my own marriage before it had a chance to get back on solid ground?

In short - can I stop this? Should I stop this?

So the voice in my head said, "Whoa, whoa, whoa. Wait a minute, wait a minute. Slow this train down. You don't have to do this; you don't have to walk away. Maybe all you need is space. Yeah... space. Not a divorce, no. What's really happening here is not that the marriage is the problem, but rather that the situation is the issue. So putting some distance between you and the situation is really what you need."

I present this idea during a counseling session like its some kind of revolutionary thinking - not the delusional ramblings of someone whose going on 45 minutes sleep and no nutrition and is basically insane from stress. Understandably, both the mental health professional and my soon-to-be ex-husband both looked at me like I was nuts, because it was nuts and made no sense.

"So what is this 'situation' that you're referring to?", they asked me quizzically.

It's the fucking marriage. Goddamn it. But I tried to salvage my precious idea, my golden nugget of hope. Because deep down, I desperately don't want to be the person who thrusts the sword into the belly of my own marriage; I want... sometimes, not all the time... to fix it. I have these moments where I think/convince myself that if I could just get some space to clear my head, and be in a place that doesn't cause me to have heart palpitations, that I could formulate an appropriate strategy to address this whole divorce situation and that I can fix it. I just need to be away from the situation...!

Mercifully, he wasn't having it. Its merciful because although it hurts that he won't even indulge the idea of attempting to work on things when we're living in separate cities, it's truly the most rational and practical approach to have. In the end, if I move away and then try to make it work, it would only be more stress, more resentment, more anger... and I can't tolerate any more of those things in my life, ever.

Stick a sword in me - I'm done.

Mavis: Woes

I want to scream. I really, really, REALLY do. 

"And then I want to hit someone; I want to hit them hard... until they feel as bad as I do!"

Lately, life has been nothing short of a disaster. The only things that have gone right are things that make me sad to do, but need to be done so I can "move on." I'm surrounded by people yet I've never been lonelier in my whole life. And I feel physically ill all the time for no reason.

I'm getting a divorce.

There. I've typed it. Publicly. 

I also recently reached the milestone of saying it out loud on a couple of occasions and not simultaneously sobbing/puking. I emote about my sadness at inappropriate times, like during staff meetings and when I'm in line at the wine store. I shuffle from one lost thought to another like a listless patient in a psych ward. Which would be fine except it can be like that for days on end, meanwhile I'm also trying to bare some resemblance to a normal, functioning person in our society, someone who does things like drive, talk and occasionally use sharp instruments to cut things like paper and grilled chicken. None of these things have been done safely for months while I've been in this impending doom coma.

I can't control where my mind goes. It's like the most depressing acid trip in the world. I go from being hyper-focused and determined to being instantly whimsical and unable to remember what I was doing 3 seconds ago. My face is in a constant state of "almost crying..." which if you're unfamiliar, mostly looks like the face you make when you're constipated, with the added bonus of an omnipresent wino's nose and ruptured blood vessels under my eyes that will probably never recover.

But I'm an adult. And there are a multitude of adult responsibilities that I still have to handle on a daily basis. Things like paying bills, showing up at work, not flying off the handle when I'm in my home with my estranged (yuck that term) husband, finding a way to sleep that doesn't involve chardonnay, and preparing for life after separation - managing the details of moving, securing an apartment and starting a new job. It's enough to make me circle the block for hours in my car listening to the Cranberries, praying for an accidental  drone strike.

There are major and minor disappointments throughout this journey. However, there is no joy. Nowhere is there joy. It's all sadness and fear and failure and horribleness wrapped up in pity. By no means do I think that I am the only person whose ever suffered a bad set of circumstances. Divorce is shitty. And I hate that I'm in this place.