Divorce – disassociate: part; cease or break association with;
You can never imagine. You imagine the moment you do it. You imagine going through it and telling her. You imagine that moment but the problem is the moments right after. You go through the motions and desperately don’t think about the past. All the birthdays you were there for. All the Christmas’s when you put up the tree with your kids. Did you know that would be the very last birthday with your son? Did you know that would be the very last Christmas with your children. Did you know when you took that first step that absolutely everything would change – nothing would ever be the same again.
For the first few months you slip through your life. You can’t define yourself in terms of you marriage anymore. You need to find something, some meaning, and some direction. Did you think this part would happen? No, entire focus in the beginning was on the leaving not would happen afterwards.
You get to make all the decisions now. You don’t have to check with anyone. That’s freedom. Where are you going to live? What are you going to eat? What are you going to do?
The price to be paid again and again is isolation. To visit and see your children. They don’t understand. Should you tell them about the years of abuse? The emasculation? Should you ruin their view of their mom? No you don’t, for a long time, you hold it all in. There are times when one of your children is spending a few precious minutes with you, your angry and grief leaks out around the edges.
The ex put constraints and parameters around visiting your own children – its final for you. After years of her tyrannical rule no more. You agree to no rules and for two long years you rarely if ever see your children. The pain is long and is as sharp as knife, cutting into any memory you can think of. Eventually the ex realizes you will never agree to any rules and she relents. It is the first time in 18 years you can remember her letting anything go but in some ways it’s already too late.
You sat there in discovery, your lawyer and hers. The stenographer sits quietly and the tape recorder making small noises. This is the final time you ever want to see her and the question comes and you clarify it – “I am not looking for joint access to the children – she can have sole access.” There you said, after a year of therapy, joint parenting is not an option. You have lost. You cannot even stand to be in the same room as her.
There is something you gain in the end, something you never expected. After you have lost everything, your possessions, your children and your reason for being, you aren’t afraid of anything anymore. What is there to be afraid of?
