Wednesday, November 8, 2017

One year

I haven't written much about my divorce on this site.  I suppose I was waiting to feel more clear about it.

My ex moved out of our house this week, last year.  I remember relief.  There was uncertainty, angst, sadness, anger and just about every other embodiment of fear that any person could feel, but there was relief.  I knew it had to be done.  I knew I had lost the will it takes to keep our marriage moving forward.

We had been together for 15 years when we split.  We would have celebrated our 10th wedding anniversary and our perfect son's 4th birthday later that month.   There was a lot to lose but we were in a free fall towards disaster.   We both agreed.  If we got off the train now, before it collided into a concrete wall, there would be a relationship left to salvage.  We would have the stamina needed to co-parent and do it as well as J deserved.

So, we held our breath and let go.  We told each other that there was no rule to divorce and like everything we had done in our nontraditional love story, we could do this by our rules, too.  Sure, there were bumps along the way - when people are threatened, scared and the foundation of everything they had built their adult life upon is uprooted, no sane person is going to act with complete composure.  But there were proud moments, too. We cooperated. We kept J first. We did well.

Divorce doesn't only affect a nuclear family.  The lives of our parents, family and friends were also challenged by our decision.   I witnessed raw bravery from someone I had known my entire life but had never shown me his true strength.  I saw my childhood girlfriends stand by my side despite not knowing "what to do" as we waded into uncharted territory together, yet again.  I was on the receiving end of weakness and cowardliness - reminding me where I'm coming from and where I'm proudly not going.  A lighthouse emerged in the darkest of days and gave me strength and hope - gifted me with a compass of which I will never lose.  Perhaps what makes me most proud is simply that I kept going.... 

I wanted out of the house and back to the city.  I wanted my beautiful boy to feel loved and happy and safe.  I refused to be anything for him but a role model of strength - we can do hard things.  I refused to raise him in a world where home is dysfunctional and the centers of his universe are not in harmony.   Baby J was born of a dream....  he came true.... and we would not fail him.  Never.  If separating was what it would take to give him the best chance of peace and stability and a model of courage - that is what we'd do.  R and I shared mutual values when we brought our child into this world - we believed in pursuit of dreams, challenging the status quo, goodness and bravery.  The best way to honor those values was to live them.   When the question inevitably comes, the answers for  my beloved boy, is that he has freedom to live his best life. I will love you the same way you loved me.  At 4 years old, my truest partner, J, never doubted that I knew what I was doing and that we would be ok - he loved me like a rock through each and every easy day and hard day.  That is our bond - trust, unconditional love and support to be the greatest version of yourself that you can be.

And a year later, we are becoming a fixed family.  I will not accept the "broken family" verbiage.  J is not growing up in a broken family.  His parents don't live together but they are not broken.  He is not a child of a brokenness.  He is a child born into love and living every day in love.  He is our angel, first and always.  I see pictures and videos and hear the day to day stories from his dad - standing on the podium with him at a BJJ event, laughing with "the guys" at a house party, eating Brazilian food and taking care of the yard.  With me, we do as many fun things as we can - singing, dancing, parties - his joy is undeniable.  We are fixing ourselves and our family, day by day, year by year.