Thankful for Second Chances

Stop staring at the closed door because you may miss the open one

Seventeen years ago, my then-husband said, “I don’t want to be married anymore,” a few weeks after our sixth wedding anniversary. I pleaded for marriage counseling or anything to make our relationship work. He was adamant it was over. He left me with no say. Three months later, on the first day of 2005, I moved to a new city 70 miles away.

After the move, he hummed and hawed about making it work. Pulling on my heartstrings back and forth. We would get together every few weeks. I still lived with hope he couldn’t be without me. Until he told me he was dating. One of my girlfriends told me, “If he wants to be with you, he would be with you.” Simple advice that didn’t sink in until that moment.

I had to be the one to make it official. If I hadn’t been the one to file the papers, he would have never done a thing. We would have been that couple officially married for decades, but not actually together. I would not let that happen. I took control of my life, something I had lost years before.

Second chances are a blessing. But when you’re deep into a life transition, you aren’t sure if you’re in a second chance or a whole new chapter. At 32, I started over in a new city in a new apartment. On the sidelines, I watched as friends started their families. I knew 32 was not old by any means, but time had a new meaning as a woman in her 30s.

Why if I can’t even have children? What if I don’t meet someone who wants a family like me?

After my divorce was official, I decided in August of that year to try this match-making website called Match.com. They had some promotional weekend where you could test out the waters. Remember, these were the days of flip-phones with horrible cameras. I would have rather met someone in person, but I worked in a small office where everyone was married. No prospects there.

I wanted to get the first date, post divorce, over and done with. I hadn’t been on one since 1996. My mom took my profile photo while I wrote up some horrible profile. I had zero expectations going back into the dating pool.

A few days later, I had a response from a guy named Mark. He lived about an hour away and we had similar interests. The drawback? He smoked. That was one of my firm boundaries. But since this was about only going on a date, I decided who cares? My mom was a respiratory therapist and smoked most of my life (she eventually quit). I can’t judge others.

After we talked on the phone for an hour, he asked me out. I felt like a teenager again. I ran from my bedroom to my mom’s (she was living with me post divorce), “I have a date for this weekend!”

Normally, I would freak out about such a thing. I’m that introvert who hides in the corner of parties (yes baby, please put me in the corner). I wasn’t nervous. Divorce stress caused me to lose weight, so I went out and got a new outfit, arriving on our date with zero expectation. Just a date. Just having fun.

When I walked into the restaurant bar, I searched for the man in the online photo. We greeted each other with a handshake. I thought it was cute at how nervous he was. I told him, “It’s okay. It’s only me.” Like we had known each other for years. I didn’t tell him at that the time but I knew when we met, he would be my husband one day. It felt like home being with me. I can’t explain it with words. It was a feeling.

This week we are celebrating our 14th wedding anniversary. We have two wonderful teenage sons and I’m beyond thankful for the stars aligning on that fall day in 2005.

For some time after my divorce, I saw that marriage as a waste of my time. What if he had not broken up with me? I would have continued down this path of wanting a family one day (something he said he once wanted, but later he told me he never wanted children). If I would have continued bending and settling with this man, I would have missed my chance to have a family. In that marriage, I was living with blinders on. I needed the wake-up call.

As I look back at that younger version of me, I wish I could time travel back and whisper, “Everything will be okay. He’s giving you a gift.” After the divorce, I had a fresh perspective from the outside. I opened my heart back up. I pushed aside any expectation when I met my now-husband. He even stopped smoking.

Through that failed relationship, I learned what I needed in a relationship and what a true partnership looks like. Before I jumped into the dating pool, I needed time to figure out myself.

Why did I lose my voice? Why did I allow that to happen?

Allow yourself the gift of the silence following traumatic times. Settle into it. Open your heart to yourself first in order to be free for a second chance, whatever that may be.

@ 2021 Ellie Jacobson

“In case you never get a second chance: don’t be afraid!” “And what if you do get a second chance?” “You take it!” ― C. JoyBell C.