One day this week, I received a letter in the mail. It was a letter that I never had thought I would expect to see – especially 10 years ago. Yet, as of recently, I was expecting it.
You see, unbeknownst to most of you — though subtle hints have been dropped in many articles — my family has been dealing with a life-altering change for all of us. In early January 2021, after many, many months of trying, working, crying, wanting, talking, trying again, hoping, praying and trying yet again, Paul and I decided that our life together was not working – not for him, for the girls or for myself.
We failed.
And, although statistically speaking, that puts us in the “normal” category, I do not take failure easily. Like, I will do anything I can to not fail at something. I will give every last ounce of my being to not fail because, honestly, I hate to lose. So, when I tell you that we failed, just know that it wasn’t for a lack of effort.
For months and months, only those closest to me knew. I was not going to let other people see that weakness in me. Instead, I screamed at God most evenings, cried into my pillow at night, then, the next day, put on all the make-up to hide my eyes and a smile to comfort and guide my babies.
The reasoning behind it — all the reasons, and there are many — are only intimately important and not to be shared. But every loss of marriage has a story. Regardless of how or what happened, the result is the same: it ended. It failed.
And I struggled with that part so much. No, I am not going to be that statistic. I found a good man, married him, started a career, had two fantastic daughters, lived in the house in the neighborhood of my dreams.
Except, it wasn’t going the way that I had dreamt. It was going the way that I was expected to do life. You know, so others could see that I had it all going right, following that traditional pattern. Shame completely covered me when the moves were made, and he left. How could I let my marriage fail? Did I really do enough? What am I doing to my girls? What will people think of me?
And then, eventually, I stopped the questioning (ok, maybe not completely stopped yet, but at least cut back on it).
Look, I am not here telling any person who is not happy in their marriage to run. We didn’t run – for a long time. Ultimately, it came down to our own happiness and the lives we want for our babies. And, most importantly for me, it’s the precedent of love and forever that I want my girls to not only know but understand when they choose their mate.
Change. Ugh. It is hard and dark and painful. And we lived that for months. I am not sure we would have survived without the amazing help of the girls’ teachers and counselor at school last year, as well as the one that the girls and I have seen together.
There were moments we sat and cried together as if three beings were connected so deeply that we didn’t even need to speak — just hold each other and weep. We have bonded and questioned and answered questions and just full-blown had meltdowns. It has been rough.
But we are past the year of “firsts” now. A new normal has been established. And while we still have our moments of questioning it all and sometimes creeping back into those different stages of grief, we have accepted that there is and can be happiness in our new normal.
While yes, it is different that Daddy lives around the corner now and not in the same house, he still is very much involved. There isn’t a day that goes by that he doesn’t see them. Even if it is simply picking them up from the sitter, he is there. And whenever the girls need some daddy time, they are welcome to see him, for a few hours or for the night.
The paper that came in the mail this week appointed a court date to officially stamp our failure. While yes, we may have failed at marriage, there is one thing we are completely knocking it out of the park onL raising our baby girls.
Maybe, this means that I just lost a lot of readers. And part of me kept this hidden for so long because of my fear of that. But, guys, I never promised to be perfect. I did promise to always be real. And, this is just another real life part of my story.
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