Over the last 18 months, I’ve had to utter those words more than 100 times. I felt like creating a T-shirt with “Yep, I’m Divorcing” on it so people would stop asking me. I am not a failure although my marriage failed. I am someone who tried in spite of who she is to make a marriage work when we couldn’t seem to get it together. I am a soon to be survivor of divorce. I am a soon to be ex-wife. I am a mother.
No matter how many ways you slice it, I am someone who loved a man, married him, gave him a son and then ended the same marriage. We couldn’t survive. We both made mistakes. I am equally responsible for the destruction of my marriage. I tried. I didn’t succeed. I still love him because he is the father of my son and he was the person I shared all of my fears, hopes and dreams with.
Nothing hurts like telling your friends and family that you’re divorcing. Even the pain of telling our son didn’t amount to the look of sadness in some folks eyes. We were supposed to make it. We were the model couple. We met in church as kids. Dated as young adults and married in the same church. We still go to the same church. Nothing changed except our address. We are still parents and we’re learning how to be friends.
Some days for me are good. Some are bad. The silence that was once deafening when I had to learn how to co-parent has lessened and I have found things that I like to do. I go to happy hours with my friends, dinner and wine festivals with my girls and the movies by myself. It is in the silence that I rediscovered my voice and I pray more. I realized I don’t like some things, love other things and tried new things. I’m learning how to be self-sufficient again. I am a work in progress.