Investment Strategies

I am intentionally redundant writing that I never, ever, ever imagined I'd be divorced.

When I allowed myself the liberty of the mere thought to dwell in waking moments, I started watching and listening to the stories of divorced people. Before that point, I largely ignored divorce stories and judged people for their failure. With compassion, of course. (The lies we tell ourselves.)

I thought I was hearing this story, no matter which party you were speaking to--jilter or jiltee, his family or her family:
"He's crazy. I'm not."
"She's crazy, I'm not."
"We hate him. She's been hurt....and it's HIS fault."
"We hate her. He's been hurt....and it's HER fault."*

I was right. That is a consistent script.

I filed for divorce six years ago. Our jury trial--yes, that happens in Texas, Georgia, and New York if one party requests it--ended 4 years ago after Labor Day.

I have my own story now. I could convincingly argue that the Lori Hudgins Clark saga is unique. I'll pad this for myself and say aloud, "Bless your narcissistic little heart, Lori. You're plebeian. Status quo."

But pain hurts. And our stories are important. Story validates our pain, especially in the telling and re-telling.

Pain demands response.

We get to decide how we react. I've chosen every possible option and made up several, I'm sure. Status quo story is blame-- avoidance at it's finest.

Blaming keeps us stuck in pain. I found that taking the partial cause approach is far more effective in managing the impact of the onslaught from external and internal voices.

I had to hire a slew of psychology experts in the course of my divorce. The family forensic psychologist listened intently to my story and said, without fanfare, "All that may be true, but you married the f&$%er and stayed for 21 years."

I made the choice to marry at 22. I stayed even when I had no hope for change. I am an imperfect person who would rather talk than clean. I hoard stuff for the possibility of needing it in the future. I demand emotional intimacy from my partner. Ironically I have an extremely high level of tolerance for neglect. When I married, I was the poster child for codependency. There are the legs of my story. Partial cause.

Annie Beth and I saw a fabulous production of Into the Woods on Sunday. If you aren't familiar with it, there is a scene when the principal characters are trying to appease an angry giant. "Your Fault" is the complicated blaming game.

They realize that all of them are at least partially responsible for the giant's unwanted presence. It's tricky and dangerous business to say that any one person is completely responsible for pain.

He has his story which doesn't match mine. In order for me to move forward, I have to accept this.

Intentional rabbit trail.

Shortly after I filed for divorce, my oldest nephew graduated from high school. Obama was well into his first term as President. The week before the trial began, my sister took her second child to college. Second child graduated in May and starts her first job today. Obama is at the tail end of his second term. My friends that got married in 2009 are about to deliver their nicely spaced third baby.

While there is value understanding the why's of what happened--particularly so that I don't repeat the same process again. It's obvious that four years can change the course of history.

Years are just strings of days. Days are collections of hours. Minutes are filled with a multitude of thoughts.

I've discovered in quiet places that I am becoming the product of dwelling in acceptance that I am enough. I also say aloud, "Let it go!" I sing it as often as I say it. I choose not to spend the bulk of days feeling angry over what I feel I didn't deserve. And now that the years are fleeting past me, I'm grateful that I am living fully instead of dying slowly.

I get to decide. Do I invest my time in love or bitterness?

*I linked Your Fault right there because, well, that's when the music should be cued in this blog.