Twenty Four Days

In 24 days, it will be exactly two years since my divorce was final.

I’ve been re-reading a few posts from those days – listening to the voice of myself and thinking on how far I’ve come and how far I want to go.

I’m going to recycle the following from October 2009, titled ‘Feelings’. You can see the original here.

It’s still a relevant thought in my life today. The desire to breathe again – to explore and enjoy life as me. Not me fitting into the folds of someone else’s existence.  One line I have to refute. I wrote about how it probably was a good thing I had to live with my ex even after we separated. How it was good for the kids and helped us work out some issues. I was lying. I was trying to look on the bright side so the wrinkly, hairless, dirty truth wouldn’t hurt when I looked at it.  In truth, it sucked. It hurt like hell. It was painful, ugly and I hated every minute of it. Even when we did watch TV in the same room together. That happened mostly because I was tired of being holed up in my room after the kids were in bed.  Living with him was like waking up each day to find the little bit of scab growing over my wound had been ripped off again. And again. And again. Until finally, we were able to move on and the ripping stopped.

And also let me clarify – the bit about picking up dirty underwear? I was talking about his, not mine.  :)   I have no issue picking up my own, but when I’m no longer “with” a man, having to pick up his underwear every morning because he tossed it on my wooden cat sculpture from Fiji bugged me. Quite a bit. Especially when I knew it was being done on purpose.

——So here it goes——–

It was strange getting off the plane in Arkansas. I nearly cried. It was a relief. On the plane, I kept thinking, “I can’t believe it’s almost over”. And by it, I mean my divorce and living with my ex. It was a strange transistion, though not uncommon in this economy, to live in the same house as him for several months after we filed for divorce. There was an incredible desire to get away from him, to be able to cry without him knowing, but the option wasn’t there. We were forced to be amicable for the sake of the  kids and I think we handled ourselves well, all things considered. Even though it was painful, I think it was a good thing to be forced to live with him. I think it helped pave the way for us to be respectful and  polite when co-parenting. There were times we even had a decent time together, watching a movie once, laughing – making jokes. I think it’s sad it didn’t work out. I wish, for the kids sake, it had.

Now that it’s almost over, I can say without a doubt I have no desire at this time to ever date again. I don’t want a man to ever try to control me again. I don’t want to be forced to do things “his way” or to be expected to melt into what he expects a woman to act like. I don’t want to compromise on even the small stuff – like where to put the shampoo, picking up dirty underwear or not eating Mexican, mushrooms or seafood because he doesn’t like it.

I like the thought of doing things my way for a change. Of having a clean, tidy home and knowing that where I put something is where it’s place is. I know I don’t have to get in my car to find objects thrown on the floorboard because he didn’t like it where I put it. (Yes, that happened for most of a year even though I asked him to stop throwing my things on the floor. It even happened the very last day we lived together.) If I put something in my car, it will stay where I put it.

I also like the thought of being able to decorate my own way without someone saying they don’t want this bedspread or those towels because it’s not his style. I can do it all my own way. I don’t even know what my style is anymore because I’ve been giving in to what someone else expected for the last five years. I look forward to finding all this out. I look forward to fully blooming. No – I don’t want to date for awhile, if ever. I don’t want to ruin it for me. Or my kids.