“Have you mourned your marriage enough?” my relatively new therapist recently asked me.
My immediate thoughts were, yes I’ve mourned a lot, what is “enough” and grieving isn’t linear with people, so why would it be with a marriage? Even if we’re settled with a loss, don’t we feel pangs and moments of grief for those we’ve lost for the rest of our lives?
It was a good therapist question that left me with food for thought.
After chewing on it for awhile, I have come to realize, that perhaps, yes – I have made it past the stage of overwhelming initial grief. Initially, I didn’t want to grieve or admit to grieving because I felt so hurt and angry that grieving seemed to be some kind of giving in – being kicked when I was already down. Only, we don’t get to escape grief. We can run from it, but it’s both patient and dogged. Grief will bide its time if necessary and as soon as you’re not guarding against it, have its moment. There’s no doubt, grief can be inconvenient, unwanted, annoying even – but it cannot be denied.
I’m practical enough to realize this, understanding it’s better to accept the grief and go through it consciously than accept the wild ride of grief suppressed.
One measuring stick I’ve used when considering my therapist’s question is how I feel this year on Patmos alone: happier than any year prior. The first summer the divorce was still raging and I was only nine or so months into figuring out life on my own. I found refuge here, but I was not settled or happy. I was also working with an insane boss and business partner – trying to get a product to market and facing a variety of challenges. The second year, the divorce had just come to a close, from which I was tapped. I was getting used to – and struggling with – living in the house I currently inhabit, which has been great for our family, but never quite resonates with me personally. I was also dating for the first time and enjoying Michelle’s company that summer. The lawsuit over not being paid out at the end of my employment with my former boss was just getting going and brought a lot of stress. Life was evolving, but also turbulent.
Last summer on my own, I felt calmer and safer yet than the prior two years. More problems had been resolved. Yet, things felt far from stable and comfortable. I was working as an independent consultant – which produced decent income with an uncertain future and I had exited a relationship that had overwhelmed, even scared me. More things in my life were working than not, but the ground felt unstable. I felt more comfortable on Patmos alone – and yet the hole I often felt when not having the kids was still there.
This summer feels pretty good. I have a nice, solid job I really like with good people. I don’t think about the tensions, uncertainties and fall-out as a result of any relationships. The nuclear bomb of the shocking, painful death of my marriage feels behind me. There’s a new normal. It’s not everything I’d like to be, but I’ve learned to cope and in the stages of grief I largely sit between Acceptance and Hope.
This is reflected in how I feel during these weeks to myself on Patmos. I’m content. I wake up happy for the day. I have some social life, but not more than I want. I get good rest. I feel like I’m in my life, rather than taking shelter from it, observing it or wondering what to do with it. I still want more from it – the status quo is fine, but it’s not what I seek. I also have more ideas about how it can change and evolve, even if not everything is clear. Even if a lot of it will take place in due time. Like grief itself, I need to be patient. I don’t have to wait to the destination to be happy. I don’t have to equate acceptance or happiness with complacency.
I’m less in conflict with the choices I felt were taken away from me or the unfairness of having invested wholeheartedly in a life that was dismantled and not equally valued. It matters, but it doesn’t. I’ve come to terms with the fact that raising a family doesn’t look the way I imagined and it will involve less harmony and support than I wanted. I have let go of the journey I had envisioned.
Somehow, all of this has allowed me to be present and enjoy this time for what it is – no nagging feelings, worries or disappointments about it.
When the threat of separation first arose and even more so when the divorce began, I had this underlying belief that a mom intuitively knew better what to do for her kids and instinctively, mine would gravitate towards their mom. I thought a lot about the perception of the divorced dads from when I was growing up – which were very much as secondary, part-time parents. I noticed just as in mixed company a restaurant server almost invariably hands the check to a man, when it comes to decisions about kids, the teacher, school counselor, doctor, etc almost invariably asks the mom.
Time and a variety of experiences helped me see not only had I always been an active, strong parent – but maybe I knew what I was doing as well or better than Emily. There might be a few doctors, teachers and school administrators who would need to learn to look at me too – but that would happen as they saw me at appointments, sending emails and on calls. I have learned to trust my perceptions, assessments and instincts more and to stick to my guns in the interest of my children. There might occasionally be some conflict, but it’s okay. I’m not always right, but usually I am on-point. More importantly, I come at things from the right place.
In other words, I’ve waded through a lot of self doubt.
As I said, there will always be moments and bursts of grief, but on this fourth summer – things feel okay. I find more joy. I’m a lot less angry. I think more positively about the future. I’m no longer overwhelmed. And I’m fine just being.
That’s not to say life is perfect, I worry about nothing and I have it all figured out. Far from it. As the saying goes, I wish I knew as much today I as I thought I did at 22. As with all of us, my life remains uncertain, full of unexpected twists, sometimes really hard. It’s just not divorce or my former marriage weighing on me anymore.
One trauma down….
Still, it’s not a bad place to find myself on the first day of the last week on Patmos this summer – especially when the biggest advantage of these weeks alone is to get my shit together before diving back into the rhythm of Westlake life. I will go back with my suitcase both literally and figuratively a little lighter. And that’s something to be happy about.
