Episode 12: Harder Than It Looks

Episode 12: Harder Than It Looks

Excerpts from "The Petty Chronicles" every Monday

Divorce is harder than it looks or than I thought it would be. The feelings hit me hard, daily, and heralded by the abrupt thud of an anvil when they arrive. I thought it would be better when he was gone. Thought I’d feel free and vindicated, but honestly, I don’t know whether to cry or dance. And it has occurred to me today, an anvil day, that I have little choice in the matter as the feelings roll on in, like an unexpected afternoon thunder shower. Fierce at first, soaking me to the bone, then fleeting, it leaves the baking sidewalks of my day to hiss and billow with steam and it’s uncomfortable as hell.

I knew that I wanted to end my marriage for months before I finally told my husband. I had to plan my getaway, hold our life together so it wouldn’t disintegrate completely, and it was no garden party. Not that I’ve ever had a garden party, not having an actual garden, but you get the point. It sucked in a very large way and yet I succeeded, at the detriment of my mental stability, to survive. At least, that’s how it appears to the outside world. To everyone around me, I seem to be a woman with all her appendages intact, reasonably well dressed, and 85% present. But from my vantage point, I am living in the aftermath of a hurricane and I don’t know where to start the clean-up process.

Here are my choices for survival today as I see them.

A) Work hard all day, stay busy, then at 6:00, wind down with a bottle of wine and spend the evening watching HGTV and re-runs of “Murder She Wrote”, because it sure beats the hell out of the mystery my life has become.

B) Turn off the phone and stay in bed for several days, getting up only for food and bathroom breaks, and let my life pile up around me with the laundry. The downside is that when I finally emerge from bed, I’ll have to tunnel my way to the computer, where I’ll find 438 emails that needed urgent replies yesterday and I really hate when that happens.

C) Have wild, sweaty sex with the muscular dreamboat who mows my lawn. But in reality, I’d rather the attraction between us to remain just that. Although I do have him to thank for reawakening the libido I had thought was long dead.

D) Talk this subject to death with my girlfriends, weigh their opinions against mine, and then wear them out altogether because I don’t take anyone’s advice, as now I am more confused than ever.

E) Wallow in self-pity, bore my friends to tears some more, berate myself for not snapping out of this funk, and totally neglect my health and well-being.
Actually, I’m vacillating between A, B and D in no particular order. But my biggest fear right now is that I’ll fall into "the self-help-spiral-from-hell." It could happen. I’ve seen it happen to others. It starts out innocently enough. You buy a couple of books on Divorce like “Living Alone Together at Last” or “Going Through the Big D and I Don’t Mean Dallas”. And then you start (or continue) going to therapy and then group therapy and then you become addicted to watching Dr. Phil on a daily basis and following his advice. And you continue to spiral downhill from there. Although, you may ask, how much farther is there to go, really?

Maybe, when all is said and done, all I need here is a simple reality check. I’ve only been divorced for ten weeks. Check. Time heals all wounds. Check. I need to give myself a break. Check. A Big Break! Double check and roger that.

Check out new episodes of The Petty Chronicles every Monday.

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