One year of recovery for every five years of marriage. That's the general rule of thumb when looking to heal from a divorce. I wasn’t aware of this timeline when my own marriage broke down at year twenty four, I only knew that what I was facing felt endless and without a bottom. Pain and fear were sculpting me from the inside. Locking me down, narrowing my view, crushing every tender part of me. The only way to endure the unendurable was going to be to “do divorce” differently. I was determined to be okay again someday and this unrecognizable person who had taken up residence would morph back into someone who used to be me. I’d cheat the system. I’d find the formula with the least amount of damage. I felt so sure I could anchor myself, lock down who I am and what I know to be true, tuck my two children, one safely under each wing, preserve what was good in its own sacred space and emerge stronger but mostly unchanged on the other side. Oh, and with an amicable relationship with my children's father and his new wife to boot; a fairy tale.
The actual journey that has spit me out five years later has been a study in dismantling my magical thinking. I was married for over half my life. I was married longer than I had been single prior. Thinking my divorce wouldn't change me, that I was going to essentially ride the mast in a hurricane without being shaped, molded and battered by the sea, was childlike wishful thinking. It was always more likely that I would end up blue and water logged on the shore, but to make the journey it was critical that I not know it. The truth is I have only begun to emerge from my divorce, but it’s clear that I am deeply changed. The new skills and wisdom I now carry with me inform me that I’m far from done, but they also remind me to track my progress and embrace my evolution. My fear of divorce changing me has transformed into immense gratitude for the ways that it has.
So here I am, right around year five, give or take (As the exact date a marriage dies is always up for debate). I've healed just enough to look back at that broken girl at year one and what I wish I could tell her. I don't know if it would have changed anything. Sometimes we pick a path of pain. A fly will throw itself against a window over and over until it dies when, across the room, a door is open. Well, I've learned a great deal from pounding my fists on glass. I've learned it's exhausting, debilitating and humiliating. Especially since the person on the other side can no longer hear you. In fact, the flailing and thrashing makes you look crazy. You may even begin to buy into the belief that you are, which can ultimately be worse.
I'm here to tell you that you are not losing your mind. You are deeply wounded and desperately afraid which can make anyone seem unbalanced. The ground has completely shifted under your feet. You've been lied to and fooled so often at this point that you no longer trust your own judgement. Your life is fracturing and you're terrified of falling into the crevasse. Your own math calculation of recovery is yawning in front of you and the span of time from here to there is vast and uncharted. Your sanity is being challenged, but is intact. Now, if you're being told the opposite by the other party, then you may be wondering if that's been the plan all along.
So, if you're not okay today then do the math, take a breath, and give yourself a break. What year are you on? If you're only halfway through, then of course there are “two step back” days. You're in the middle of rebuilding a life that you may not even feel like living in sometimes. The known may be gone for you, and the unknown has become your own personal terrorist. As one of the terrorized, I know the toxic powerlessness it comes with. That’s why I know that for today, only pay attention to the progress. Oh, and when grace shows up, please pay attention and release some gratitude. Remind yourself that reconstruction often requires tearing things down to the studs and that something can be ugly right up to the moment it becomes beautiful. Your worst day may result in your most important breakthrough so try to leave room for that. Even the painful steps have purpose you won’t understand until later. It’s not your job to know what they’re all for, your job is to count them. Before you know it you'll put together enough steps to affect the outcome of your own math problem.
And if you decide to continue to throw yourself against the glass, I understand. That's part of the process too. What I hope to offer here is a door or two across the room I wish I'd known about, and more that I hope to discover while we take this ride together. What I offer is relentless compassion, the deepest empathy, and hopefully a sprinkle of insight. And to assure you you’re not crazy.
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