4 Things to Not Say to Me Right Now

Warning: My crappy mood continues.  Thank you for loving me as I am.

I have this one friend named Julia and when she heard I was getting divorced she told me, honestly and beautifully, that she didn't know what to say.  She asked what she should say.

And I was surprised to find that I was stumped.

I don't know what I want people to say.  I only know what I don't want.

1. "Sometimes people just grow apart."
This bugs me because my husband I didn't just grow apart.  It was way more complicated than that.  It wasn't a slow fade.  I don't want people to think that we stopped holding hands for longer and longer periods of time and then one day we realized we had wandered miles apart from each other in the woods.

That wasn't what happened.

But I don't want to talk about what did happen.

2. "My spouse and I are celebrating our 112th anniversary next month."
I'm so happy for you, really I am.

Except I'm not.

Know what I mean?

3. "Children are so resilient."
Resilience is over-rated.  I wanted my kids to grow up in an intact family, with a mother and father in the house.  In a house filled with harmony and love.  One that was a healthy environment for them.  That is what's best for children but it wasn't one of my options.  I had to choose between some pretty bad options and I chose the least bad of them.  But the thing about kids being resilient, it's like saying that after an amputation you're going to weigh a lot less.

Yes, you weigh less.  Big deal.  Everybody wants two legs.

4. "OMG, I can't believe it!  I thought you and Buddy were so happy together!  How can this be?!"
Umm, this is a moment where I need you to be there for ME.  Don't ask me to comfort you through my divorce.  Take it in stride, this stuff happens every day.  If you thought my marriage was perfect that makes two of us.  Sh*t happens.  

Now I'm back-pedaling a bit because I don't want to be mean:
If you have said any of these things to me please don't feel bad.  You were trying to make me feel better and that is what I will remember.

Here's what I guess you could say.  
Can you tell me about a time when you experienced a loss that was also a gain?  An end that was also a beginning or a beginning that was also the end?  Pain that was also joy?  Sorrow that was also beautiful?  Maybe you could tell me that story in the comments section or in an email.

Good Luck and other Bullsh*t

WARNING: I'm in a crappy mood lately and this post reflects it.  If you came for peach pie and a smile, I promise I will be serving that up again soon but today I just can't.  Thank you for loving me in spite of it all.  

In the last few months I've had lots of encounters with our nation's legal system.  And there's one thing strikes me about the people who work in it - they incessantly wish me good luck.

I sign a form for a bailiff and as I hand the pen back, he says, "Good luck to you."

The judge tells me he's granting my petition for divorce and I shake his hand and he says, "I wish you good luck."

I write a letter to my lawyer telling her I'm switching to a new lawyer for the rest of the process but I do it in the NICEST way you can imagine because you all know how important it is to part on good terms.  She responds with two words, "Good luck."

That's it.

Then she sends me a bill for $19 for something that is petty and ridiculous and mean, so I send her another letter that says, "If you find you need to do something billable on my account please contact me in advance to get my authorization both for the work and for the charge."

And then I sign that letter "Good luck."  

But amidst all of this good-luck-wishing, I wish I could snap my fingers and have a couple of cups of green tea appear and I wish I could invite the good-luck-wisher to sit down with me right there, wherever we are.

On the cold granite of the courthouse hallway. 

On the rose-beige carpet of the courtroom.

On the hand-woven Persian silk rug in the mediator's office, which is a silvery blue color and shimmers in the afternoon sunlight and makes me want to dive into it and stay under until my lungs are ready to burst. 

I wish I could tell them something that they already know, I know they already know.  But I would tell them anyway, to make myself feel better, that it was a series of CHOICES, most of them good but enough of them bad, that led me into their courtroom or their office.  Not luck.

Luck never had anything to do with it.

It never did.

Us, 1997 - 2012

Dear Downtown Diner customers,

It is with a heavy heart that I inform you that Buddy and I are divorced.

Although the divorce was not sudden, this is a painful time for us nonetheless.  I'm turning the comments off on this post and thank you for understanding. 

I'll be back soon with more.  Meanwhile, please send virtual hugs, lots of them.

Much love to you all,
Melanie