First things first, I’m the realest. – Iggy Azalea.
It’s my new mantra.
I’ve had to be so un-real, for so, so long that I find this new divorcee space both exciting and terrifying.
Divorce is like a death, but you have to interact with the undead….forever (if children are involved). It’s a messy scar that walks around displaying your (I won’t say failure – because goddamn it, I tried!) disappointment. Years prior to beginning the pain-in-the-ass paperwork and separating items between him and her and moving children across state lines, the slow torture of tearing apart two hearts began.
Climbing out of all those years of un-real presents more questions than answers and I wonder to myself, and often to my therapist (divorce necessity #1), what was the point of faking it for so long? As I sometimes drunkenly (divorce necessity #2) fall into failure and feeling, I realize, I was unhappy for a lot longer than I admitted, even to myself.
The biggest poison, the one “they” teach you to ignore, is self-deception. Pretending it’s okay. Faking it for the show. Putting on the mask for church, school, friends, colleagues, other parents, and neighborhood friends – otherwise known as, the entire. mother. fucking. world.
When I walked away from my marriage, I walked away from the lies. I walked away from pretending.
I also walked away drawing a lot of lines in the sand and learning a lot of lessons. For instance, nobody puts baby in the corner – I deserve several rooms. One person’s efforts cannot make a relationship work. And living a lie to look a certain way for a group of other masked liars is foolish and brutal and ridiculous.
Life is too short. I am braver than that.
Losing control of the mask has felt like dying. But I’ve never felt so free. And I’m ready to start walking down a new, very real road – destination unknown.
The truth now:
I’m not dying.
I’m a beautiful, fucked up mess.
I’m forever and irrevocably changed.