I am pissed off and I want to talk about it.
When I got divorced, hell even separated, I was a mess trying to figure out to do with myself. I couldn’t decide what do with my ever-changing emotions. I went through the seven stages of grief every hour and I didn’t make for very good company. In fact, I was so concerned about the feelings of others that I ostracized myself to preserve my relationships. Who wanted to hang out with a depressed, angry, sad, liberated woman in denial?
As I sat, brewing, stewing, I was losing friendships. My reclusiveness was offensive apparently. I didn’t call people enough. I didn’t include people enough in my misery, or I was too chipper on the phone when they did call.
“Well, don’t you sound happy?” I was once asked.
Well, excuse the fuck out of me for not slitting my wrists.
I scrolled through the misery-inducing news feed on Face Book, wracked with sobs at the pictures of my old friends arm in arm, faces beaming at outings I wasn’t invited to. Week after week, month after month, I tried to pull my shit together enough to show my face to the world. The harder I tried, the further away that reality seemed and I cried into my keyboard as I let fucking Face Book shred my heart.
As time went on, I became stronger. Surer. More OK with my new life. I was ready to be at least pleasant to others. Oh how I longed for the company of my friends! How a girls’ night would renew me! I needed the company of women and the buzz of red wine to replenish my broken spirit. What a stab in the heart it was to learn I was no longer welcome in my den. I was banished and I didn’t even know why.
The pain in my stomach still lingers.
When divorce was eminent, when the last person to believe it (me) finally realized that my marriage couldn’t be salvaged, I was comforted by the support system that I had to get me through the rough spots. I envisioned my friends talking me through my sadness, picking me up and getting me out even when I protested. I imagined laughing through my tears and hugging the women who helped me to see the silver lining in the dark cloud of divorce.
Instead my phone never rang. My evenings blurred into nights and I spent them alone. I foolishly gave my friends the benefit of the doubt – surely they’re busy with their kids or jobs and haven’t had time to call. GNO pictures on Face Book! Maybe they don’t know what to say. My ex-husband at parties of my old friends!
I’ve stewed about this for months. I’ve excused the hurts doled out to me because, well, divorce is uncomfortable, right? People don’t know how to handle me as a separate entity. Who should they side with? We’re both nice people – what are they to do?
I’m here to apologize for fucking up your guest list. No really. My MARRIAGE IS OVER, but please. Allow me to extend my deepest fucking apologies.
I’ve thought endless times that if I post how I really feel that I risk losing friends. I thought that perhaps one day, my old crew would accept me and welcome me back. Maybe one day things would be as they were and we’d drink wine and laugh about the trials of being women. Maybe one day I’d be a part of the group that left me like a bad habit when I decided to end my marriage.
I guess I grew strong enough to not give a shit. Anymore.
Surely I’m not the only one this has happened to? The cliché that you divorce your entire life exists for a reason, right? Have you been a victim of losing your friends along with your spouse? I’d like to hear your story.
I know it feels good to finally tell mine.