Divorce Feels Like...

       I'm not sleeping right.  It's been about three days.  I sleep, but it's fitful.  Waking up is a pleasure.  When I first thought about divorce, I told my friends that it felt like I was cutting off my right arm.  Now, I feel like I am being put into a blender and cut up into little pieces.  This may sound dramatic, but it's true.  Anyone who has divorced someone that they love, knows what I am saying.

     I am not good company.  I am able to work, but I cannot tolerate noise, or people who think or act too slowly.  My patience is almost nonexistent and I am overly sensitive to criticism.  I think I might need something to help me sleep. My husband and I are back on friendly terms as he has temporarily stopped drinking again.  I think that this is why I am agitated.

     It's good that he is sober and cooperating, but it's almost as if he is one of the voices in "The Journey" yelling for me to stop.  He already wants me to get rid of the lawyer and to file through a mediation service.  I am not going to get rid of the lawyer.  I am not going to stop this time.  I will be overjoyed if he recovers.  In 5 years, if we are both unattached, I might consider dating him... this is the real reason I am agitated.

Divorce Does Not Mean You Do Not Care

I have started to climb out of the pit again.  I had to get a lawyer because my husband acted as if he did not care about the children and me...he didn't care where we lived or if we had enough money.  I found out later that he had been drinking for four days straight.  Obviously, after almost 14 years I still can't tell when he's drunk over the telephone.

He called last night after he stopped drinking for 8 hours.  I told him my divorce proposal.  He tentatively agreed with it and I said for him to think about it over the weekend. We will be able to file for our divorce soon.

I think this will be a relief to him too.  He still sees the pain he causes us and feels very guilty about it even though he doesn't acknowledge this.  He has too much pride.  He isn't a bad person.  He's a very good person with a very bad problem.  I have to detach from him so that I can go on with my life.  

If only he could fully accept what has happened, embrace the responsibility and the pain.  He would get the forgiveness that he needs from us, be able to forgive himself and go on with his life.

This is important to me partly because it is hard for me to go on with my life when I see him drinking himself to death.  Most of my friends and family don't understand this fact.  I am watching him drink himself to death.  I can't do anything to stop it.  I have to leave to maintain my own sanity and live.  This doesn't change the fact that I have to stand by and watch him kill himself, even if it is from a distance.

Mary Oliver's "Wild Geese"

A Story of Love and Tragedy

Here is a story of love and tragedy.  Girl and Boy meet.  They get married.  They have children…3.  They love each other.  They love their children.  It is stressful to raise 3 little children.  The mother complains.  The father starts drinking…and doesn’t stop.  He hides in his office.  The mother loses it.  She gets depressed.  The father keeps drinking.  The mother gets help.  The father and mother go into marital counseling.  The father reports to the counselor that he is happier than the mother reports in their marriage.  The counselor thinks the father drinks because the marriage is bad.  The mother doesn’t call the counselor again, so they don’t go to counseling anymore.  The father keeps drinking.  He is verbally and emotionally abusive.  The mother asks him to leave.  The father leaves.  He does not come back.  The mother waits and waits and waits for 7 years.  He keeps drinking.  She does not stop loving him.  He becomes obsessed with soothing himself.  He doesn’t pay attention to his children.  The mother raises the children.  She hopes that he will stop drinking and come back.  He doesn’t.  He says that he doesn’t care what happens to her.  He thinks that she doesn’t deserve his help…the mother decides that it is time to get a lawyer…

More on Blame and Responsibility

Tossing blame back and forth is a useless exercise.  Of course a failed marriage is an interaction between two people.  It's never one person's fault that a marriage fails.  But, how does this work when alcohol is involved?

In my case, I really believe my husband and I had "normal" marital struggles.  I was very in love with him and I enjoyed taking care of our three young children.  I believe that during this time, the only choice he made was to drink hard liquor for 1 week.  In that 1 week, he became an alcoholic.  That was almost 14 years ago.  Is it his fault that he hasn't been able to stop?  I don't know.  I don't blame him.  It is useless to do so.  His mother is an alcoholic.  He used drugs as a teenager, which primed his brain for addiction.  Is this his fault?  I don't think so.  He doesn't seem to have the will power to quit?  Is this his fault?  No.  Is any of this my fault?  No.

What is the point of this discussion?  Blame is useless.  Responsibility is paramount to happiness.  We need to take responsibility for what we can control and change and let the rest go.

My Teenager's Response to "The Journey"

Last night, I showed my 16 year-old son, "The Journey".  He said, "I'm not sure I agree."  I think he said this because he is connected to me.  As a mother of two teenagers and one young adult, in some ways these "children" have been following my lead.  In this situation, I visualize them actually holding onto me.  The youngest is at the top, the other two farther down, holding onto me as I climb out of this pit.  I've had several different visualizations for what I am doing as I detach.  The latest is climbing out of a pit.  I'm ashamed to admit it, but at times I've been too tired to climb and the children have taken over.  Now, though I've taken the rightful role as parent and I'm leading the way.  Maybe they are not actually holding onto me now, but climbing behind me.  I am at the top, resting on my elbows.  I have footholds for my feet and I can see the view.  It's glorious.  The sun is coming up and the sky is scattered with clouds and washed with colors of red and purple.  It is a new day.

Mary Oliver's poem, "The Journey"

The Journey

One day you finally knew

what you had to do, and began,

though the voices around you

kept shouting

their bad advice--

though the whole house

began to tremble

and you felt the old tug

at your ankles.

"Mend my life!"

each voice cried.

But you didn't stop.

You knew what you had to do,

though the wind pried

with its stiff fingers

at the very foundations,

though their melancholy

was terrible.

It was already late

enough, and a wild night,

and the road full of fallen

branches and stones.

But little by little,

as you left their voices behind,

the stars began to burn

through the sheets of clouds,

and there was a new voice

which you slowly

recognized as your own,

that kept you company

as you strode deeper and deeper

into the world,

determined to do

the only thing you could do--

determined to save

the only life you could save.