Lion and Magic Boy

As of yesterday, my divorce is final. Or rather, will be in another 30 days so as to give me time to find health insurance that I won’t be able to afford. Yay for joining the ranks of the uninsured!

Two years ago, I thought I would find relief, freedom, and jubilation in those words: “my divorce is final.” But I recognize that while there was a transcript made of two people saying “I do” to various agreements and there is a piece of paper that will be signed by a judge 30 days hence that says “go on your merry ways,” it’s far more complicated than that. And it’s really not over.

And seeing your life or a good portion of it, your relationship, your love, your dreams and hopes and frustrations, all of that combined, reduced to a list of things on a piece of paper, is very strange. And feels wrong. There is nothing to acknowledge the truth of what a marriage was for two people beyond this list of property. How can mere money and possessions possibly define love or a lack of it, life and the day-to-day aspects of living it, and all the other things that transpire between people when they decide to make a life together?

I could make a rather lengthy list of the patterns that have erupted for me during the past few weeks as a result of this. Ironically, I truly thought that I was divorced from any emotional aspects of the technical ending of what has been a 14-year odyssey and that I had dealt with the emotions long ago and that what was going to transpire yesterday was simply the signing a piece of paper. But oh, I was wrong. And since one thing affects another, and everything is connected, this affected everything and everyone else in my life as well. But identifying those patterns is a step toward rethinking them and forging new ones. I suspect there is an easier and less painful way to do this, one that does not require the complete disintegration of the self, the clearing of everything off the slate to uncover the deepest and rawest aspects, the ones that feel shame and terror at being exposed, but I have yet to find another way.

Which is in itself a pattern.

I find it interesting but not surprising that there are many others going through similar painful transformations right now as well. My heart reaches toward every one of you, and you know who you are, and I feel nothing but love for each of you.

Group hug.

As for me, I’ll be here gingerly lifting up a rock here and there to peer under it, looking for aspects of myself I’ve hidden there. Frankly I thought I had done this already, so I’m more than a bit surprised to be here again. But it’s either that or bury myself completely under one ginormous rock and just call it a day, and I don’t think I want to do that, as appealing as aspects of it are.