and all through my life was a churning, tumbling, awful sick feeling.
I don’t know what I’m supposed to be doing. If there IS something I’m supposed to be doing. I feel like I’m waiting for someone to tell me that I’m doing this wrong. That I’ve forgotten some piece of paperwork. Or to sign some document. Or that I’ve failed to have some emotional outburst. Or that the ones I have had, the ones that I have felt and talked about with my closest friends, are the wrong ones?
I’d tell them: “I’ve never done this before. Have a little pity on me. This is my first time at divorce. I don’t know the rules.” I don’t have anyone who I could ask. I don’t have close friends who have divorced in this manner. Gone without the standard pitbull lawyer. Written the documents myself. Walked into the courthouse, with my soon-to-be-ex-husband, by my side.
What does one wear to a divorce? Do I dress up? Or down? Wear my prettiest dress? Or my favorite jeans? Should I have gotten a special outfit?
Should I wear my hair up? Look professional? Like I know what I’m doing? Cause I’d be a complete fraud. I have no idea what I’m doing tomorrow. I wonder if I’ll be asked a whole bunch of questions? And what would they be? Or will they even know that I’m there, and just ask to see some ID to pass out some paperwork to me. That its all over.
There are a few things that I have no doubts about. Doing this divorce is one of them. I have been reminded on a consistant basis during this process, that this is the absolutely right thing for me to be doing. For me. For my kids. Even for Barry himself.
I have also been poignantly reminded that I am loved. The network of cheerleaders, and shoulder-to-cry-upon, and sound-heads-to-bounce-off-of, and prayers-offered-up; has been full and without end. I am loved and cared for by people. I just wish that I could have been this loved and cared for by my own
I have had several moments today of ‘forgetting to breathe’. In those times I can feel the space in my chest swelling up – and closing off my ability to function, think, speak, or even breathe. Its a moment of panic. A moment when I realize I am falling out of my body.
That’s when I remember to just *breathe*
That’s what women are told in the laboring pains of birth. “Relax and breathe”. Its the one thing I always try to convey to a new-to-be mom. Its the one thing that I say to my friends, who seek my counsel, at their most transitional moments.
This is one of the most transitional things I have ever done. Short of giving birth. Even the 5th time was a big transition: I became a woman who gave her child to a childless couple. Or when I got married. Or moved across the country to live, and birth my child. Becoming a Stay-at-home mother. Or going back to work. Heck the only thing this might be bigger than was deciding to even be born myself. And I didn’t do that by the textbook either. I was “footling”.
I won’t be a married woman this time tomorrow. In just a short 18 hours it will all be over. 18 years of marriage – done.
I am so grateful that Mindy has come down from her home in NC to stay with me tonight. And tomorrow night. I don’t know what to do for her, or how to ‘be’, or what this must be like for her. I am just thankful that she came, so that I wouldn’t be alone.
That tomorrow at 2:30pm I won’t be walking into that courtroom alone. That she and my sisters will be there walking in with me. Holding my hand. Reminding me to *breathe*
Just keep *breathing*
Just keep *breathing*