In 1993, two and one-third million couples married and one and one-third million couples divorced. Whether a divorce is bitter or amiable, the effects are long-lasting. Children suffer greatly. The emotions of all family members ricochet from one extreme to the other. Friends of the couple puzzle over where their loyalties lie. Self-esteem disappears and financial hardship can ensue. For me, my broken marriage took me on a journey from devastation to rebirth.
Initially, divorce indicates failure of one or both parties. Failure at anything is seldom pleasant, especially the failure to honor a commitment to another human being. Whether a union has lasted one year or twenty years, self-blame is common. When my twenty-two-year marriage ended, I blamed myself. I endlessly analyzed our years together, but came up with few answers and no assurance that, if I had been smarter or prettier or tried harder, the marriage would have survived.
Following my self-recrimination stage, depression came calling. The inclination to get up each morning, to eat, to speak deserted me. I wanted only to curl up in bed, with my head beneath a pillow and my body swaddled in blankets. Small talk with the rest of the human race exhausted me. Breathing became difficult and not always desirable -- it seemed easier not to breathe, to just expire quietly. Life went on everywhere else except in the protective cocoon where I lived.
In the midst of a divorce, children often are asked, verbally or non-verbally, to choose one parent over the other, to blame one parent over the other. In my case, I was the rejected parent. As a result, I experienced a hell like no other on earth. In a perfect world, time heals all wounds, but it doesn't always happen. Fifteen years after my divorce, I am still the "bad guy." And so the heartbreak continues. Our divorce also had long-lasting effects on our children. Two of them are divorced and one vows never to marry.
After our divorce, former friends either backed out of the picture completely or sided with one or the other of us. He got most of our friends; I got a few. This caused bewilderment and a feeling of isolation in me. Wasn't I the same person I was when I was married? Was I now less likable, less worthy of their friendship? Who gets custody of friends? Nothing is predictable when a marriage ends.
Then came the unanswerable questions. Am I still a daughter-in-law? How does that work? Do I telephone my former in-laws, remain in contact, or sever all ties? What are the rules? Is there a divorce etiquette book out there somewhere?
My self-esteem and self-confidence disappeared. I believed that no one would ever want me again. The success of my married years disappeared from my consciousness; I was only aware of the failures. Shame and self-doubt colored my personal life and my professional life. I had to make myself smile, to look people in the eye, to take part in conversations. I was surprised and distrustful when people spoke to me, when people seemed to like me. Money was scarce; I struggled to survive. I took menial jobs when I could get no others. My self-worth plummeted and thoughts of giving up flooded my mind. Gradually, though, my situation improved and my true self emerged from the rubble. To once again stand straight and proud took time, persistence, strength I never knew I had, and years of objective professional help.
Now I find there ARE advantages to being single: no disagreements over television channels; no interminable hours of Sunday afternoon and Monday night football; no wet towels, dirty socks, underwear, and other articles of clothing carelessly strew about and forgotten. No one demands an accounting of my finances or questions me regarding what time I will be home. No one demands dinner at 6:00pm on the dot. No one tells me I look fat in an outfit or laughs at my new hair style.
Conversely, there is no one to share in my personal successes or failures, my joy or my pain. No one wipes the tears from my cheeks, promising to make it all better. no one tells me he is proud of me; no one is there to love me no matter what anyone else thinks of me. There are no strong arms to encircle me, no broad shoulders to cry on, no hairy chest to rest my head upon in the deep, dark, scary night.
Divorce changed my life and not entirely for the better. The loss of my children and my friends, of my big rambling farmhouse, of my security, and of my self-esteem very nearly destroyed me, but these losses also birthed a stronger, more empathetic human being -- me. Today, I truly value my hard-earned independence and self-esteem. I am proud of my emergence from the suffocating cocoon of self-doubt. Life's experiences and lessons can be sobering, but, miraculously, my ability to laugh, love and trust lives on.
And the elimination of football from my life brings me great joy!
