My Relationship Died
And no one even brought me a casserole.
Divorce is a thing. It might be an unwanted thing. But it’s a real thing.
The kinda thing that makes you ugly cry. The kinda thing that makes you pull the covers up over your head. The kinda thing that makes you yank the Ben & Jerry’s out of the freezer.
But I didn’t believe that at first. Why? Because the day after I retained my lawyer I was singing in the shower. I was free. No more pain. I was so excited I called my sister.
“I forgot I used to sing in the shower!”
“Colleen,” she cautioned. “Divorce is not singing in the shower. It will get much worse.”
Turns out big sisters are usually right.
In the months that followed there wasn’t enough wine, food, or kleenex for me to respectfully survive.
And I didn’t feel much like going out with the ice cream stained covers pulled up over my head. Or with my sleep-deprived circles that exquisitely matched my tear-puffed eyes.
It wasn’t my best look.
This was the closest my adult life had taken to a high school breakup reboot.
Only it wasn’t.
My mom wasn’t there to make it all better. She wouldn’t be rounding the corner of my bed with a big smile on her face.
A mom smile.
The one that says who cares if you failed the test, broke up with the love of your life, or never felt sicker. The world will never take you down with me in it.
Who cares if people think divorce is the plague? Who cares if people judge you? Who cares if people don’t understand divorce is real loss and grief? Who cares if you ended up with a few ‘fair-weather friends.’
I am here and it will all be better.
If only it were true. If only my mom was still here. If only I could call her.
She would bring me a yummy meal. She would deliver it with pretty flower in a vase perched atop a beautiful bed tray. She’d throw in a cushy box of kleenex to boot.
“You will rise again!” she would exclaim. At least long enough to wash those sheets of yours. And to replace them sans the Ben & Jerry’s.
My mother would stand watch so I could rest.
She would quiet my pain. She would cover my gossip-fearing ears. And she would feed me.
With sweet meals and scrumptious love.
Until I was strong enough to fight for myself again.
Here’s the thing.
Divorce is a thing.
It’s an unwanted thing.
But it’s a real thing.
The problem is some people are afraid of it. Some people are unaware of it. Some people remove themselves from it.
But don’t because we need you. It’s loss and grief.
Our relationship died.
Please bring casseroles, please bring kleenex, please bring tea, please bring wine, please bring new jammies, please bring a comfy blanket, please bring signs with empowering mantras, and please bring cards with words of love.
Why? Turns out big sisters are usually right.
It got worse. So much worse.
If you know someone like me. A person going through a thing. A real thing.
Make a casserole.
Because sweet meals and scrumptious love…
Are enough to get anyone strong again.
Just ask a mother.
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