Divorce.
Some people view it as inevitable while others embrace it as a beginning to new beginnings. Others view it as the end of a dream while others perceive it as a fate equally as painful of death. Some of us have been spared this experience while many others have been affected either first hand or through the experience of a family member or friend. I was reminded of this after sitting down to watch the latest episode of Parenthood. (Now the final season of this show is a whole other topic to be revisited another time. Don't get me started. I can feel grief counseling on the horizon to adapt to life without this show.) Back to the topic at hand.
I came from a home where my parents stayed married up until the death of my father. 40 years of marriage to the same person. It still amazes me. My own track record is hardly as rock solid. My first marriage, which began at the ripe age of 20 years young, would end shortly before it ever really began. Our agendas seemed to be relative in the beginning, however it would rear its ugly differences before our first anniversary would be celebrated. I couldn't recall the vows we took then. For nostalgic reasons, I wish I could, simply to see which ones were broken versus which ones were set too high to ever achieve by two kids barely old enough to step into a bar.
Not too many things can blow my mind. The shock value in my life is set relatively high -- it takes a lot to knock my socks off. To do the math and realize had that marriage never ended in divorce, I would be celebrating 20 years with the same man. That would be half of the number of years my parents shared. Heavy stuff.
It took many years as I nursed the brokenness of self when that marriage ended. I was never emotionally invested in the man whose last name I would take on as my own. I was enamored with the dreams of being married but had no idea how to achieve getting there. I still find it unbelievable at times how much damage was left to undo and how long it took for it to unravel. The pain, the anger, those sleepless nights, the cartons of ice cream and trips through the drive thrus of the nearest fast food establishment. ..... all my many solo attempts trying to make sense of it all.
I have had my moments of being over-dramatic. This topic, however, is not one I minimize. The residual affects of a divorce, from my experience, were long lasting. The loss of a dream affected my job performance, my family relationships and friendships, and my spiritual and physical self. I took sick days sometimes because I was physically sick, but usually because I was emotionally sick. Often times my sadness superseded my ability to find the strength to get up to take a shower. I went days without doing so much than getting out of bed or going back and forth between the kitchen and the bathroom in a complete and utter fog. I found myself in a world where I virtually couldn't find a friend or a peer that could relate to my struggle. While my life shifted to a very advanced level, I had girlfriends who were still just actively dating or raising children on their own. They couldn't relate to me. It was a very lonely road I traveled often alone.
So back to the latest episode of Parenthood. Afterall, isn't that where I got the inspiration to write this blog topic?
I saw this clip a few times advertised in the last few weeks. The patriarch was shown sitting down in his livingroom with his soon-to-be-former-son-in law and he pops out this question with tear filled eyes.
''Do you love her? Then fight for her."
In this particular scene, every sappy girl gene, every female hormone just wanted to burst at the seams. Fight? Fight for her (or in my case, him)? This crap only happens in the movies or on prime time television. Or does it?
What would this world be like if we fought for what we loved, for what we were passionate about? What if we had people who didn't take sides but instead, encouraged us to be all in? That in the midst of the sleepless nights, the confusion, the pain, the agony, the despair, and moments of not being able to move forward without total paralysis, that we had someone like this man on this show? How differently would our lives be if we had a cheerleader to cheer us through the tough times?
The irony in all of this is that it isn't this failed marriage that I really want to apply the 'what if' scenario to. It goes back further for me. You see, before I ever changed my name, before I had ever met the man I would marry, there was someone before him. Back as a teenage girl, all of 16 years old, there was that first one. The first boy that would be many "firsts". He would be the first one I didn't get over. The first one in which the stars wouldn't allign with. The one that I thought I could sweep under the rug and escape from. Of course, in my infinite wisdom I know now that there is no such thing. No rug big enough, no broom and dust pan large enough, nor mop and bucket that could clean up the mess in which I would spend a few decades sorting through to make sense of.
How could my life be different today had I had people in my life to encourage me to seek the answers I needed to close this chapter in my life properly? Or to encourage me to fight for him? Not to have my opinions formed from the thoughts, wants & opinions of others who heavily influenced my life? Anyone can join the ranks of the opposing team. Actually, it is probably the easiest stance to take. Think about it. Say completely the opposite of what the other speaks or wishes or desires. Tie it up with a bow and slap on the label of "in the long run it will be better" to "it won't hurt forever" and "he doesn't deserve you" to "don't waste your time". Anyone can do and say that. But what would this world be like if we weren't so quick to throw away a person, another human being, to just replace him or her with the next disposable victim? Could broken relationships be repaired to create stronger, long lasting, meaningful relationships? Could we see more relationships bragging on Facebook and to friends of anniversary # ____ being celebrated?
What kind of world would we live in if we had less broken people, broken homes, hurt parents and adults, and even better, having less children who are raised with one parent instead of two? Could productivity increase and the workplace be a happier place to clock in eight to ten hours? Would Hallmark holidays like Valentine's Day not gouge our pocketbooks with over-priced flowers and boxes of chocolates once a year because relationships were being honored on a more regular basis? The scenarios are endless. The hope is quickly replaced by a sense of sadness for me because this doesn't get played out like I think it should.
A single life can be changed with the words we offer. Whether those words are positive or negative, they are designed in the minds and on the lips of the reporter. If we all can live by these standards, one person at a time, and risk being outside of our comfort zone, how different might things be?
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