Time To Go Home

Where do I even start? I sat down to write this and I immediately felt rusty. Out of shape. Like I'd been in some sort of writing hibernation for the last few years. I guess that was the case. I wrote a couple of posts during all the turmoil, but my heart wasn't in it. Neither was my head, really. I've decided that it's time to start fresh. So here I am...

So here's the deal: I got divorced over the Summer. Sounds simple, right? Actually, signing my name on the official papers wasn't nearly as traumatic as I anticipated, but that was only because of the three years leading up to that moment. I'm not here to blame anyone or rehash the details, because in the end, it doesn't really matter. In the end, two people know what went wrong, and we each have our burdens to carry and our hearts to heal. I'm only discussing this because I've been away from my writing for way too long, and oh how I love to write. But I put it aside - completely ignored it in fact - because of everything going on in my life. I sacrificed it in order to fix a marriage that could never be repaired.

So yeah, divorce. It's not the easy way out that so many people think. Maybe for some people it is, but I think those situations are rare. I've heard people say that going through a divorce is like a death. It sounds kind of silly, but it's true. I grieved. I am grieving. I'm grieving the loss of my marriage, my best friend, my family. I'm grieving the loss of the person I used to love - because he now no longer resembles that man at all. I'm grieving what used to be, what was supposed to be, and what should have been.

When I signed that piece of paper that legally ended my marriage, a piece of me died. I know that sounds melodramatic, but hear me out. It's not what you think. I'm not talking about being so closely entwined with someone that your life is over. I mean an actual part of me - of my spirit - died. Ask my family, or anyone that knew me as a kid. I always believed in the good in people. I always trusted. I never thought anyone would intentionally hurt me. Naïve? Possibly. Maybe no one should go through life having blind faith in another human being. I did, though. I liked that about myself. That's the part of me that died...and I really hate that. I feel different, like I'm trying to adjust to a missing limb. I'm trying to find my balance and learn how to maneuver through each day.

So what does this all have to do with writing? The divorce, and the three years of turmoil leading up to it, have become the proverbial elephant in the room. I've tried to sit down and write, but I can't see past it. I think I needed to face it head on. I spent three years putting everything into saving my marriage, and in that time I ignored so much. I ignored myself and my writing. But that stops now.

It hasn't been easy, and as much as I'd like it to, it's not going to magically go away. I will continue to grieve and make my way out of this pit slowly but surely.

And I will continue to write.