When I finally decided it was time to tell my (now-ex) husband I wanted him to move out, that I wanted a divorce, I wasn’t ready to walk through the fire. I’d skipped around the burning coals for years, dancing past the cinders, dropping hints through smoke so thick, it choked my ability to be honest with him.
So I drifted further into myself, the cloud of silence growing, the fire building.
When silence didn’t work, we had conversations about what needed to change, what we both needed to work on. I loved him. It wasn’t that. It’s still not that. He’s a good man, a good father. I’ve known him almost half my life. My god, how is that possible?
My feet continued to burn.
I blurted it out one day, “You need to leave!” in a rush before I lost my nerve, my soles on fire. I couldn’t breathe with his booming voice, his anxiety vibrating, snapping at the very air of his slamming door, slamming drawer, clutter-filled presence. I needed peace. I wanted counter space. To breathe in my own clear air.
My soul burning.
So he left. Not without some protest, a mountain of bills, and the upheaval of our now suitcase-carrying, back and forth children who think I’m being selfish. And that’s okay. I see their point. They are too young to understand that breathing isn’t selfish. It’s more important that we do this thing together, focusing on co-parenting them, and we are. We are sort-of friends. He still calls me “Hon,” after twenty-two years together, which is sweet and only slightly strange, as when a child calls you by your first name.
It’s been easier, and harder, to go through than around. There is no detour when it comes to ending a marriage. “You will have to walk through the fire,” my therapist told me, and she’s right. Nobody does this for you. It’s a grown-up thing, this divorce business.
You dig through the ashes for answers, and realize that you are just as imperfect as you fear, that all those cliches about change are so fucking true. I don’t blame him. I don’t blame me. I don’t even blame change. Maybe I’m fooling myself, but taking a Zen approach to it all has helped immensely.
I realize control is an illusion. We can’t shape a tattered love that’s no longer there, yet I can choose to cherish memories, and be thankful for happy times and amazing kids. That we’ve salvaged enough of it to still care about each other and our family makes me if not happy, at least grateful for this solo walk.
I’m damaged. I’m healing. I’m tending my scars.
The way it is with any kind of burn.
Carol Hedges says
February 23, 2015 at 6:57 amVery moving and exquisitely written piece, Rachel. Walking through the fire as opposed ti walking round it is something we all have to do over many things. I did it over my parents, when they disinherited me, refused to see my baby girl, and I had to admit I was not and clearly had never been loved.
I am doing it now on behalf of a friend on here, whose husband has admitted to a cyber affair..I hold her hand and walk with her. And for me? A very ”good friend;; someone I put a lot of time into and trusted would be there for me and support me, has decided over the w/e to drop me … I walk . Fire is fire, whatever the reason. But healing is also healing.
Rachel Thompson says
February 23, 2015 at 3:45 pmThank you, Carol. And you are SO right. We have all kinds of relationships in this life — and we have to do what’s right in our hearts. Often times, others won’t understand and we have to accept that it’s okay. Healing IS more important.
Sending you hugs.
Divorced Kat says
February 23, 2015 at 7:50 amI still get nauseated when I think about the day I told my eventual ex-husband that I was going to stay with a friend for a month. I hoped he would beg me to stay. I hoped he would come get me. But he did not. It was the theme of our relationship — silence can scream a message.
Rachel Thompson says
February 23, 2015 at 3:53 pmSilence is often so loud. I actually write about that in my latest book. Our expectations of those we love, especially as we move apart, are so swollen with silent expectations as well.
I’m sorry it happened. I hope you’re doing better now, Kat.
Kimmie says
February 23, 2015 at 11:56 amI’m sure you’v been told so before, but, really Rachel….You are an incredibly gifted writer!
Iv’e walked through that fire..sadly my ex and I couldn’t remain friends (his choice, not mine) and between us, our children were hurt…. He does at least speak to me now.. civilly..if he has to..which is a huge improvement!
I’m glad you and your ex were able to remain friends, for your childrens sake. 🙂
Take care, Kimmie x
Rachel Thompson says
February 28, 2015 at 1:08 pmThank you, dear Kimmie! You’re so very kind.
I’m sorry you couldn’t remain friends — sometimes though, that clean break is what’s best for all parties. Relationships grow and change over the years. Maybe you’ll get to that point, maybe you won’t. Putting the kids first is what’s most important.
Sending you hugs!
Jeri says
February 23, 2015 at 1:11 pmI’m filing my divorce papers today 🙁 The dirtbag left me no choice and it’s for the best. Writing is such a great gift that can get people though times like this.
Rachel Thompson says
February 28, 2015 at 1:13 pmGood for you, Jeri! It’s such a huge move, and yet, by the time you make that move, it almost feels…like the dot on the i. So much effort leading up to that point, you know?
It’s not easy, but life isn’t easy. Even the good stuff is hard. As my wise 9yo son says, ‘depends on the day and the stuff.’ 🙂
Ben Ditty says
February 23, 2015 at 1:30 pmYou are very brave Rachel. I stayed in a relationship far too long merely out of fear of ending it.
Rachel Thompson says
February 28, 2015 at 1:14 pmThank you, dear Ben. That happens to so many of us. I can’t say that didn’t happen here (or in previous relationships) as well, but there are complicating factors. It’s never easy.
sending hugs.
Susan Hughes says
February 23, 2015 at 6:36 pmAhhhh…. Such exquisite words for a terribly painful situation. I’ve been there. I remember the day I told him to leave like it was yesterday. Even worse was the day I explained to our kids that he wasn’t coming back. That was 24 years ago. My kids are grown, one with kids of his own. They’ve both told me I did the right thing.
Hang in there….
And thanks so much for sharing with us.
Susan
Rachel Thompson says
February 28, 2015 at 1:52 pmThank you, Susan. It’s very, very hard, no doubt, and every situation is so different.
I’m so glad your kids are supportive. Mine are coming around, as they appreciate the quiet here in my home, how they can enjoy the clutter-free environment, and calm and snuggles. Their dad loves them, too of course — that’s never been in doubt. Just in a much LOUDER, busier way. I’m kind of glad they get to experience our different parenting styles separately at this point — it gives them a break from each of us.
Somehow, it’s all working, or beginning to. Sending hugs and thank you for sharing.
Kitt O'Malley says
March 18, 2015 at 8:44 pmRachel, just wanted to let you know that I’m holding you in my thoughts are prayers (for what they may and may not be worth). I wish you the best as you walk through the fire over those hot coals. I wish you the best as your family changes its shape. I commend you and your almost ex for co-parenting amicably.
Tony Spagnoli says
March 18, 2015 at 8:53 pmIt is nice that you were able to end it the way you did. My divorce happened 31 years ago. I haven’t remarried. It was the second worst 10 years of my life.
John Ross Barnes says
March 18, 2015 at 9:47 pmOh boy, divorce sucks. Sometimes terminally so. Very sorry that you get to experience that particular facet of the vast range of human experience. Thanks for sharing the hard stuff.
Susan Faw says
March 19, 2015 at 3:51 amTwo divorces later, I have finally accepted that marriage was never the right path for me, it was a detour I took out of a chronic need to be loved. While the detour was not the best path and presented a bumpy, pain riddled ride, I received three fabulous gifts that I cherish more than life itself. Now that I am on my true path through life, the world is a bigger, brighter and healthier place. No one makes decisions but me. The freedom is exhilarating! I dance a jig in greeting to each new day. I, too, am a survivor and you will be also. Trust in yourself. Trust in your dreams. They are waiting for you. They always have been.
Christine Cissy White says
April 12, 2015 at 5:36 amThis is SO SO SO good. Thank you so much. I was with my ex (who also calls me hon sometimes and I’ve never heard it described so well) for 19 years. We are still family, still friends, still love and care for one another and co-parent well – honestly better than we did when we were married.
And it’s been five years but the all of it – the mess, the emotions, the being imperfect. The change. YES. YES. YES!
Thank you!
Cissy
Rachel Thompson says
April 12, 2015 at 5:43 pmThank you, Christine! I’m so glad to hear that. We have our ups and downs (mostly about the financial entanglements — or disentanglements) but the most important thing is the kids. Therapy helps (at least, the kids and I — IDK what he’s doing) and that’s okay — I don’t need to know. Empowering myself means not knowing and I like that! I wish him well because when he’s well, the kids are well. It all makes sense.
Frustrations are still there, and hurts…I can’t deny that. But why would I? Life is life and we change. Someone earlier said it best: divorce isn’t a failure, just another way or living our life together in a different way. Changing our paradigm. Some see that as a rationalization but I don’t really care — it works for me.
Anne Stormont says
October 8, 2015 at 1:19 pmRachel, what an honest and courageous piece of writing. Fire is painful but it’s also a great cleanser. Right decisions aren’t excessively painless. But life is short and very precious and you have to live it in the way that’s for you. Only then can you give your best to others. I wish you and your family all the very best. Take care of yourself.
Greta Stone says
March 13, 2017 at 9:52 amThis is an excellent post. I can relate to it in so many ways. I especially appreciated “They are too young to understand that breathing isn’t selfish.” </3 Thank you for putting into words how I (and so many others) feel.
Rachel Thompson says
May 1, 2017 at 3:44 amthank you, Greta. That means so much. It’s not easy. I knew it wouldn’t be. It’s still not. Every day it’s something else to deal with. This…unraveling is continuous, really. Good luck to you.
Ashen says
March 27, 2017 at 7:07 amMy story. Well expressed. You mentioned in response to a comment that silence can be loud. That resonates too. A good fight over me might have changed my mind at the time.
Rachel Thompson says
April 1, 2017 at 3:18 amIt’s a hard battle, even when there is no battle. I feel you, Ashen. xx
Brody Black says
October 18, 2017 at 10:05 amPoor You! How BRAVE you must have been to finally…once and for all…put yourself first, above all others, above the petty misunderstandings of children, above a man you made a sacred vow with. You finally did it! I’ll bet you feel super empowered. Now you can chase your solace and your dreams unencumbered by a marriage you once chased and dreamed of. I wonder what comes next in your hero’s journey. And I wonder if it will end the same way.