The Hardest Thing
"How are you doing?"
I've answered that question about a million times this week because the people in my world are amazing.
When I'm asked, I struggle to find an appropriate response. I should be devastated. I should be curled in a ball in the corner and sobbing uncontrollably. I should be beyond sad. But, I'm not.
For around two years, I have had a ball of anxiety, responsibility, and grief hanging around my neck. I couldn't breathe, sometimes, due to the weight of this utterly unfashionable accessory.
About 12 hours after I told the father of my children and now former spouse that he needed to leave and that we could not be married anymore, I took a walk with my best friend and felt free. I felt like I had lost 20 pounds. I felt relieved. I felt better than I had in a long time.
On Wednesday, when I had therapy, my therapist told me that I had been spiritually depressed for as long as I had been in her care. She could see the vibrant, fun, silly, goofy Sara within, but I had layers of dark sadness muting my glow. On Wednesday, I glowed in her office.
I don't mean that the decision to really be done and to share this news with my children was easy. It was not. It was absolutely the hardest thing I have ever done.
I don't mean that I don't feel worry about things because I do. When I think about the logistics that need to be taken care of and the decisions that need to be made and the messiness of separating the finances, tangible stuff, and emotional ties of two people who have been in a relationship for 20 years, I get very anxious.
I don't meant that I didn't cry and feel some sadness in this process because I did. I shed lots of tears. I sobbed lots of sobs. I consumed lots of wine with a soul sister on my first night as an official single mother.
Deciding to end my marriage, despite all of the things that should have made it seem like an "easy" decision, was the hardest decision to make.
So, when I say I feel amazing, it is because even though this was hard... Even though I feel sadness... Even though I feel some anxiety... Those emotions no longer define my entire existence. They are secondary. Peace...amazing peace... THAT is what defines me now.
This means, that when my beautiful girls ask me the hard questions I've dreaded, I can answer them without bursting into tears. I can be logical and reasoned and steady. Just what they need.
This means, that when I wake up alone in my bed, I feel lonely for a moment. Then, that emotion floats away and is replaced with a strange sense of knowing. I might be alone now, but it's not forever, probably. And even if it is, I'm going to be okay.
I will have moments that are not peaceful, but I believe that now I can bring the peace to the table in a way I could not before.
Ending my marriage is the hardest thing. The. Hardest. Thing.
I've learned that sometimes the hardest thing is the rightest thing.
I've learned that people can handle the hardest thing.
I've learned that I do not have to balance the emotional well-being of everyone in my world on my shoulders. My shoulders are strong, but not that strong.
I've learned that doing the hardest thing feels really, really good. It is honest. It is ethical. It is authentic.
This was the right thing to do. I know this in my soul.
So, when you ask how I am doing and I struggle with words or smile and say, "Just fine," I'm not crazy. I'm not unfeeling. I'm not in shock. I'm just at peace.
And, my girls and I? We are going to be just fine. We've got peace in our back-pockets.
I've answered that question about a million times this week because the people in my world are amazing.
When I'm asked, I struggle to find an appropriate response. I should be devastated. I should be curled in a ball in the corner and sobbing uncontrollably. I should be beyond sad. But, I'm not.
For around two years, I have had a ball of anxiety, responsibility, and grief hanging around my neck. I couldn't breathe, sometimes, due to the weight of this utterly unfashionable accessory.
About 12 hours after I told the father of my children and now former spouse that he needed to leave and that we could not be married anymore, I took a walk with my best friend and felt free. I felt like I had lost 20 pounds. I felt relieved. I felt better than I had in a long time.
On Wednesday, when I had therapy, my therapist told me that I had been spiritually depressed for as long as I had been in her care. She could see the vibrant, fun, silly, goofy Sara within, but I had layers of dark sadness muting my glow. On Wednesday, I glowed in her office.
I don't mean that the decision to really be done and to share this news with my children was easy. It was not. It was absolutely the hardest thing I have ever done.
I don't mean that I don't feel worry about things because I do. When I think about the logistics that need to be taken care of and the decisions that need to be made and the messiness of separating the finances, tangible stuff, and emotional ties of two people who have been in a relationship for 20 years, I get very anxious.
I don't meant that I didn't cry and feel some sadness in this process because I did. I shed lots of tears. I sobbed lots of sobs. I consumed lots of wine with a soul sister on my first night as an official single mother.
Deciding to end my marriage, despite all of the things that should have made it seem like an "easy" decision, was the hardest decision to make.
So, when I say I feel amazing, it is because even though this was hard... Even though I feel sadness... Even though I feel some anxiety... Those emotions no longer define my entire existence. They are secondary. Peace...amazing peace... THAT is what defines me now.
This means, that when my beautiful girls ask me the hard questions I've dreaded, I can answer them without bursting into tears. I can be logical and reasoned and steady. Just what they need.
This means, that when I wake up alone in my bed, I feel lonely for a moment. Then, that emotion floats away and is replaced with a strange sense of knowing. I might be alone now, but it's not forever, probably. And even if it is, I'm going to be okay.
I will have moments that are not peaceful, but I believe that now I can bring the peace to the table in a way I could not before.
Ending my marriage is the hardest thing. The. Hardest. Thing.
I've learned that sometimes the hardest thing is the rightest thing.
I've learned that people can handle the hardest thing.
I've learned that I do not have to balance the emotional well-being of everyone in my world on my shoulders. My shoulders are strong, but not that strong.
I've learned that doing the hardest thing feels really, really good. It is honest. It is ethical. It is authentic.
This was the right thing to do. I know this in my soul.
So, when you ask how I am doing and I struggle with words or smile and say, "Just fine," I'm not crazy. I'm not unfeeling. I'm not in shock. I'm just at peace.
And, my girls and I? We are going to be just fine. We've got peace in our back-pockets.
I saved a quote awhile back, because it gave me a different perspective about life. I thought someday I could share it. It seems appropriate after reading this.
ReplyDelete"Maybe the journey isn't so much about becoming anything. Maybe it's about unbecoming everything that isn't you, so you can be who you were meant to be in the first place."
I just may save that quote for an equally deserving time. I wanted to add that when I found myself "alone" after 40+ yr-old relationship, I came across a copper cuff bracelet with this stamped on it:"Maybe the best hasn't happened yet." And Sara, that is exactly my wish for you!
ReplyDelete