I'll cut right to it: this year has been intense. I got divorced, learned to be a
single parent, fell in love, traveled to Europe, and watched my preemie twins
turn four; I lost some family and friends, I made some new family and friends,
and I learned more about myself than I ever would have thought possible in just
twelve measly months. For the first time I began to really understand my goals,
my needs, my desires, and my priorities; to shake off what I once thought I
should care about and to embrace what I truly do. And I learned a few big lessons:
1. Time heals.
There have been so many moments this year
where I thought I’d never find my way out of the darkness. Where everything
seemed so overwhelming and terrible and I couldn’t imagine a future where it
wouldn’t. Times when I watched people I cared about slip away as a result of my
divorce, and where I worried endlessly that not only myself but especially my
children would lose an entire half of their family. There were days where I was
overcome with guilt about everyone I believed I was hurting, and where I was
sure my girls would be eternally damaged by the break between their parents.
Some days, I missed my ex-husband’s constant friendship so much that I couldn’t
eat, or where being a single parent felt so lonely and unendurable that I was
scared I’d ask to move in with my mother or my boyfriend just to avoid being
alone. But somehow, it got better. As the months passed I felt myself settling
into the strangeness, and adjusting to my new normal, where with patience, I
found contentment and peace. But to get there I had to accept that…
2. You can’t band-aid a bullet wound.
I read that any time you feel the urge to
rush into something− whether it’s a career choice, or a relationship decision like cohabitation or
marriage− it’s actually
your instincts telling you to either slow down, or get out entirely. But we
often try to outpace this deep anxiety or uncertainty by making big steps
forward, instead of taking a step back and allowing things to play out more
organically. It’s our way of trying to exert control over a life we feel has
become chaotic; for me, I’ve always fallen prey to this anxiety and leapt
before I looked. But this year I decided to try something different, and it
taught me that embracing my fears and releasing control loosened their control
over me. In doing so I learned to face my grief and loneliness head on− as they say, the only way
out is through. And in stumbling through that dark, I realized…
3. Those who mind don’t matter, and those who
matter don’t mind.
Cliché, but true. It’s natural in a divorce
to lose people, particularly those on your exes side. And it’s also normal for
everyone to have something to say about your choices, especially when they’re
controversial. This year, I learned to accept and let go of that− it’s taught me who my
real, honest-to-god, flesh and blood, non-judgemental, supportive,
faithful-and-have-faith-in-me-friends are. The ones who’ve watched me break
down and bawl and laugh and seek joy and recover and relapse, and have loved me
through all of it. And though I’ve had actual relatives distance themselves
because of my decision, I’ve also had some of my former in-laws step up and
offer generous love, kindness, and support despite it. Regardless of our marital
split, it’s always been my ex and my goal to stay a family, and many incredible
people on both of our sides have helped us reach it. And ultimately while some
might have offending opinions about our situation, this year I’ve learned it is
absolutely none of my business what anyone has to say about me; at the end of
the day it really doesn’t matter either. In that vein…
4. It’s important to forgive yourself, too.
I spent a good portion of 2017 (and 2016)
punishing myself for my decision to leave my marriage. I felt that I was
sinning greatly, not just against God, or society, or against my friends or
family, but against the promises I’d always made to myself; the commitment to
giving my children an intact home and never making them live apart from their
father; the determination to break the pattern set by my parents and
grandparents before me. It was a decision I agonized over for a long time
before we went through with it, and one that continued to plague me even after
the divorce was final. But now, I’ve decided I’ve practiced enough masochism
for awhile. After all, I am only human, and a broadly imperfect one at that.
All I can do is attempt to improve on my former self, to be better and kinder
and more generous and more compassionate and not squander this opportunity to
learn and grow as a mother, daughter, girlfriend, ex-wife, sister, and friend.
And with that…
5. Life is precious.
This year has been tumultuous, but it’s
also been magical, and it’s mine. As the months have passed I’ve begun to
realize how much of it I freely gave away before; how I handed out intimate moments to strangers, or subconsciously believed that
my relationships weren’t real unless they were validated by others. I used to put
endless pictures of my husband and I online just to assure people how in love
we were, when in reality our marriage was falling apart. I’d post happy family
moments in an attempt to hide the desperate sadness, as though if I received
enough likes, perhaps that fake happiness would become real. In the end, I
thought that if enough people on Instagram liked our relationship, maybe we
could like it too.
This time, I’m trying a different tactic. My
current relationship is real, and lovely, and bumpy, and intense, and messy,
and incredibly special, and because of this it’s not something I feel compelled
to overshare. It’s tangible whether or not those on the outside can grab a hold
of it; in fact, the more I clutch it to my chest, the more untouchable to
others it becomes, and that’s a very good thing. Maybe this year has jaded me,
or maybe I’m just growing up, but I’m beginning to have a real distaste for
exposing the things I care most about to a voyeuristic lifestyle; after all, my
partner and my children are not props in a production called “Happy Family”.
They are demeaned by playing a role on the internet, by being reduced to
characters with pleasing, digestible story lines for others’ consumption.
Simply put, this year I’ve learned how important my family life is to me and
how aggressively I’m willing to protect it, regardless of the cost. While I’m
sure I’ll never stop blogging or using social media entirely, when it comes to
my relationships I believe the good stuff is kept beyond a screen, and as I get
older I’m realizing I don’t want to miss it. Whether big moments or little
ones, like that leftover Christmas chocolate they’re too sweet to share.
In the end, I'm still learning. I'm only twenty-seven after all, and I'm beginning to understand just how very young that is. As the calendar turns on this year and 2018 begins, I'm looking forward to big changes and even bigger growth, if I'm lucky. Though the future offers no guarantees, it will arrive regardless, and I finally feel strong enough to face it.
