Divorce sucks. How can I argue a "good side" for that?
"Well at least there's nobody to kick me in my sleep."
"I've turned away from materialism, and my house is less cluttered."
"I don't have to dress up like a schoolgirl any more."
I'm a glass-half-fuller; how do I paint my divorce picture with a Bob Ross flair? Where is my "happy little tree" brush? Scrub the brush, where's my happy little anything? Yeah, I know, my glass is looking bone dry right now.
What Happened to make you so bitter, Rob?
What? Didn't you read the first sentence? You know where you are, right? You are here. Find a sample blog post. Find two. See a reoccurring theme? I'm thinking that could be your answer. Except really, I'm not 3-days-in-the-desert beer bitter. I'm actually icy cherry cola sweet, just bubbling with cheer. Ok maybe not that sweet, but I am in a good place. Unfortunately being here doesn't make where I've been any easier.
What doesn't kill you only makes you stronger...
Yeah, come here and step down onto the bear trap of divorce. That mind-numbing throb as your world collapses to a pinpoint of consciousness? It's your leg getting stronger.
No pain no gain...
Oh yeah. I'm stronger alright. Next divorce I'll just shake off like a silly string lashings. I am Kong, king of divorce. Go ahead and hang that plaque in my office. It makes me proud. Pride and strength, not really all they're cracked up to be. One puts you in the divorce, the other is pinned to your chest as a reward for your vigilant pride. Great. Fill my glass with gall. I'll be sitting over here.
And just where is here? I mean I've had people say "I'm there for you." that's great, but they're there. I'm here. Where is here? When you're going through a divorce it's so easy to get lost. Divorce is the cow-tossing super-tornado that spirals through and hurls you into some Ozian Harriet nightmare. Ok, bad joke, but the Nelson/Baum knot works. You try and find a good Dorothy divorce tie down.
"I'll get your house my pretty, and your little dog too!"
"Oh yeah? When monkeys fly out of your butt!"
"Funny you should mention that…"
Divorce is kind of like the Wizard of Oz but without the ruby slippers, Emerald City, or horse of a different color. It's just you, the armies of brainless, heartless and gutless trying to figure out how to get home, while some bit—er witch—and her flying butt monkey fleet tries to put you to sleep. There is no yellow brick road, no Thomas Guide, not even a red star on a mall map saying "you are here." We are all lost.
Divorce is oblivion. Where is that? Physically it's the same place you were yesterday. Mentally it's a million miles away. And we're all in the same boat. I tell my tale for the side of the dumped, but I know people driving the sanitation truck who are equally as lost. When it comes to divorce, all any of us know is that we want out.
So what do we do? We bewildered Dorothys. We do what the other wind-hitchers have done before us. We wander home. Each day may only take us a few steps into the haunted forest, but we rest up and endure.
"Hopes dreams and memories! Oh my!"
Each day is another day marching us another step closer to the exit. One day we'll stand at the opposite side and know we've made it out. One day.
Look at the Israelites. They wandered the wilderness for 40 years with nothing but manna. We're better equipped. Our march isn't nearly as long, and there's enough crow, gall, and sour grape rations to go around; I've got plenty--I'll share. It doesn't taste that great, but you can wash it down with this half full glass of water I've got here.
Yeah, while you're out in the desert, no matter how I paint it, divorce sucks. All you can do is live for the promise of milk an honey. It is there, you just have to be patient.
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