The Divorce

Last night I returned from an incredible weekend in Ocean City, NJ, where I had the unequivocal pleasure of watching two people who are unabashedly in love -- and with whom two families are in love -- become a new family of their own.  Believe it or not, even I have no words to describe this wedding.  From an observer's perspective, it was perfect down to the last detail.  Although I'm sure many little problems cropped up along the way, as they always do at any orchestrated occasion, the celebration, the love, the reason we were all there -- those were perfect, and they were apparent and abundant at every moment.

But more on that later, once I get my wedding photos and thoughts in order (which, for all of my eager family members, I hope to do very shortly).  This post is on a slightly less joyous subject:  The Divorce. (Notice how I've capitalized that for dramatic effect.)

Tonight the Professor came over so that we could sit down and discuss a few issues.  Last week, we didn't see eye-to-eye on some of the details of our divorce.  I won't go into any specifics here, because they really aren't important to or appropriate for this blog, but I will acknowledge that at least some of the issues were because I didn't communicate some of my thoughts with the Professor before I sent him a draft settlement agreement.  I may have blindsided him, unintentionally -- but also thoughtlessly, and I should have been more thoughtful about his expectations before sending him the proposal.  From my perspective, it's just one more learning and growing experience.  One more thing I know I'll do better the next time.  And I can't do it differently this time, so that's really the best that I can take from it, and so I will.

At the end of the day, we mostly worked things out, like adults.  The reality is that that sucks.  No bones about it.  No other, more eloquent way, to say it.  Here I sit across the table from my husband, the person I married, gave my heart to, handed my future, my everything -- and we're talking about who's going to pay for what.  There is no way around how exquisitely painful that is.  But the flip side of that, if you can step back and see it (and I'm really trying to do that), is that it's also really nice.  It's good to be able to sit down, face-to-face, like two adults who (once) love(d) one another deeply, and resolve the details of your lives.  It is good -- although in a profoundly heartbreaking way -- to be able to say I think what I'm asking is more than fair, and to feel like you have been heard and taken seriously.  It is good to be acknowledged.  It is relief.

It is also good, albeit incredibly difficult, to hear him out.  To consider his perspective, to give it legitimacy.  It is difficult, but necessary, because he has a perspective, and a life, and it's not mine any longer, but it's important for me to accept that, to come to terms with that, and to know that for him, it is still his life.

The reality is that the Professor's perspective, in terms of our divorce settlement, is actually considerate of me.  I will not walk away from this feeling like I won, like I got what I wanted -- because it's a divorce, and no one wins, no one walks away with what they wanted.  That's just how it is.  Otherwise, they wouldn't be getting divorced.  But -- stepping back from it a bit, having a little perspective, removing myself slightly (as much as I can) from the pain of the actual divorce -- I can say that I am as satisfied as I will ever be with the resolution of things.  Not because I 'got what I wanted'.   I could never get that, because what I wanted is not, and simply cannot be, within the realm of a divorce.  I am satisfied because the Professor acknowledged me, acknowledged our relationship, acknowledged some sense of moral obligation that he feels he has, completely separate from anything I have foisted upon him.  And that is more valuable than any amount of money, more meaningful than any piece of property.  It is, ultimately, what I get in the divorce, and has to be enough.  And it is.

I realize this post may suggest that some amount of my peace in this comes from the Professor, rather than my own internal resources, and I admit that is at least partly true.  That is all tied up with how I have done things until now, how I have at least tried to handle this divorce.  It is tied up with the fact that we have maintained some sort of a relationship, and that I still love him, even if I don't always like him.  And that is just the way it is.  Messy and complicated, but true.

The hardest part of the evening was not actually discussing the details of our divorce.  I've done that enough, professionally, that I can remove myself from it.  Mostly, and with a lot of self-control.  The hardest part, the worst moment, was also a good moment.  It was when the Professor told me that he knows how hard this has been on me, that he knows this has been a huge blow to me, and that he is impressed with how I've handled it all.  I can debate mortgage payments and health insurance all night long.  But that comment took the wind out of me.  I wanted to curl up and cry.  I wanted to scream.  Because this year has been hell.  It has taken everything away from me and everything out of me.   Sometimes I feel I have nothing left to give, no more energy left to put out there, nothing left to carry me through.  And, as much as I can remove myself professionally to discuss custody of the dogs, let's face it -- it takes enormous emotional effort to do so.  It is a monumental challenge.  And to have him acknowledge that, on some small level, was enough to make me collapse into a pile of tears.

I didn't do that, though.  Instead, I clinched my jaw and breathed.  I waited for the moment, the emotion, to pass.  And I said thank you.  That was it.  That was all I did, that was all I said.  There is really nothing more I can say.

I waited until he left to cry.  Because sometimes, despite everything, you just have to weep.  And that's okay.