Chicana on the Edge

Mentioning the unmentionable since 2004

Regina Divorcing
written by Regina Rodríguez-Martin
July 3, 2013
Tuesday, 2 July 2013

So my husband and I are divorcing. It happens. I realized my marriage was over right around the time I found out my mother was getting hospice care. This spring/summer has been quite a ride.

I’m packing this week because I move into my new apartment on Saturday. I’ve been sailing along on adrenaline and good wishes ever since the end of April when these changes began falling on my head happening, but I’m feeling tired today. Since Sunday I’ve packed up my entire bedroom and closet, my bathroom stuff and my items that were in the hall closet. Wednesday, Thursday and Friday I will tackle the kitchen and the living/dining areas. I’ll also close out the electric, gas, cable and Internet accounts (although gas and electric will move with me).

Moving because of divorce is exhausting. I hadn’t foreseen how draining this week would be. I’ve moved many times in my life, but it’s a very different experience when it’s so sad. Usually I like moving. Purging my belongings and setting up in a new space brings me the excitement of starting a new phase of my life. I’m feeling some of that positive anticipation here, but I also feel disappointed and bewildered. Tonight I was folding clothes into boxes thinking, This isn’t how it was supposed to go. I wasn’t supposed to be moving out of this apartment so soon. And alone.

But I’m also looking forward to returning to the single life. During this five-year marriage, I sometimes missed being solely in charge of my own finances, vacations, grocery list and social life. I missed being able to carefully balance my earrings on the arm of the sofa and know they would be there until I moved them. I missed being able to throw dinner parties on any night of the week without having anyone else to clear that with. I missed having a life free of dogs and dog hair. I missed many things about having a private, uncoupled life.

Do women whose husbands are divorcing them usually feel as relieved as they are sad? I’m feeling both. Maybe it means I’m not really marriage material. I understand that it would be more typical of a 46-year-old woman who’s put on 40 pounds in the previous seven months, to feel afraid of being alone and anxious about finding another partner. A typical response would be to feel betrayed and abandoned by one’s spouse, and maybe angry and frightened of being alone for the rest of my life. To hell with that: I’m not angry with my husband, and being alone for the rest of my life sounds pretty good. In fact, I think single might be my natural state.

But at the end of every break up you didn’t initiate, the questions can be haunting: what happened to all the love and passion? How could it all disappear like that? What did I do wrong? Why doesn’t he like me anymore?

This week I’m doing a lot of Emotional Freedom Technique tapping to keep from drowning in those questions, and so far I’m doing pretty well. While those first two questions keep running through my mind, the last two do NOT. I’m very grateful for that because just a few years ago this situation would have convinced me that I was a big loser and failure and that no one would ever want to be with me. Incredibly, I do not believe that right now! It seems too good to be true, but I’m able to see that part of the responsibility for this divorce is mine, part is his and what it comes down to is that we just weren’t a good match. No one is to blame. It feels so good to know deep down that this was not my fault. Not mine alone, anyway.

So I mainly feel sad, disappointed and bewildered. A little stunned. I’m worried that I’ll collapse into a depression after I’ve moved and the end of my marriage really hits me. To head off a bad depression I’m tapping, trying to keep everything in perspective and staying in close contact with my friends and support groups (and of course I’ve got the therapist and the anti-depressants). I’m being extra kind and nurturing with myself because some of my worst depressions have hit in the summertime and here we are at the beginning of July. Summer is just not my season. My mood can go bleakest when the light outside is brightest.

I’m calling it a night. I’m on schedule with the packing and too tired to do more than walk the dog and crawl into bed. Have I mentioned how much I’m looking forward to not having to take care of a dog anymore? Ozzie’s staying with Bob and for that I say, “YAY!”

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