We’ve all been drunk on love. Amazing sex with our partner is a high that is unlike anything you could ever get from a substance. We’re a little bit crazy and it’s a wonderful feeling.
Divorce is the hangover. The super bad kind where you wake up and wonder why you did that and vow never to do it again. We have to go through emotional withdrawal and that makes for a different kind of crazy. Some of us get depressed, we act out or go on a binge – too much alcohol, drugs or sex with random people.
I have a male friend who is very pragmatic. When I mentioned that I had been in therapy at various times during my life, he said, “You’re not crazy.” He didn’t understand why I would need it.
He didn’t see me after my last breakup, when I was curled up in the fetal position sucking on a bottle of champagne. If you’re going to get drunk, you may as well drink the good stuff – the bottle you were saving for a special occasion.
I wasn’t crazy when I divorced the father of my children. In fact, I was pragmatic, like my lovely friend. I planned it out because I knew that my husband was sliding into a place that he wasn’t going to be able to climb out of. Since I had two children and was a stay at home mother who didn’t have a full time job, I had to make sure my kids were going to be fine. I talked him into buying a house in a nearby town where houses were much cheaper, but somehow I managed to have the ownership put in my name only.
I didn’t know how to drive because we lived in a major city where there was great public transportation, so I took driving lessons. I told him I needed a car to get around with the kids in that new town and went out and bought a cheap used car. I went back to school and took some courses.
This took months, but I knew I would be able to support my kids when I gave him the boot. During that time, I also tried to get him to seek help because he was falling into a wasteland and not coming home much of the time. I did what I had to do and it was the right thing. After I broke up with him, he became a full-fledged drug addict and today he is a crack addict. You have no idea how heartbreaking it is to be walking somewhere with your kids and run into their father panhandling in front of the liquor store.
During that divorce, my kids kept me sane. When I broke up with my last ex, I admit I went a bit crazy, but not as crazy as I should have. I found out he was cheating on me with three other women. What really pissed me off was that he was always commenting on my weight because I had gained twenty pounds and one of the women he was seeing was much heavier than I was. The other two were thin, so I guess it evened out. He also didn’t like the way I dressed, even though I thought I was very stylish in a Rebel Wilson sort of way. Apparently, the other women he knew could afford designer clothes.
Instead of falling apart, I decided to take myself on a vacation to Paris, since he had always promised to take me and never did. In fact, I found out that he took someone else to Paris shortly after we started dating.
Here’s a handy tip – never go to Paris alone when you are heartbroken. Yes, it was everything you could imagine. The city was beautiful, but I felt discarded, like this mannequin I found at the Paris Flea Market.
While walking through the gardens at Chateau de Versailles, I fell and got a bloody nose and scratched my glasses. This was my last night in Paris. I sat alone in a cozy restaurant, all bruised and looking through the one clear lens of my glasses at the couples who were on either side of me. One was an American couple on their honeymoon, gazing romantically into each other’s eyes and declaring their love. The other couple was French and I don’t know what they were saying, but it sounded romantic. I wanted to cry, but now when I tell that story, I have to laugh.
People say “I’m mad” when the really mean angry. I rarely get angry for some reason, but I get sad. Instead of yelling, I cry. I can cry over anything – I cry when I watch the Young and the Restless and I watch it every day. There are a lot of divorces on that show. Some people marry the same person two or three times, so there is plenty to cry about.
I also laugh so hard that tears come to my eyes, so I guess that is a form of crying.
Laughter seems to be a form of madness, at least that’s what it says in the Bible; a publication not known for humor -- I said of laughter, It is mad: and of mirth, What doeth it? Ecclesiastes 2:2
If laughter is madness, I would rather be mad.
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