Finding your way back from something you never expected to happen in the first place is not only a challenge, but sort of beautiful.
I truly mean it when I say that I consider myself the luckiest girl in the world, and I say this often. The process of my divorce was ferocious and ugly, and getting to where we are now could easily be described as harrowing, even on our best days. But, being on this side of things, I try to frame the last year as another version growing pains. If nothing else, this has seemed to help me not to waste my time shaking an angry fist at the Universe, expecting some kind of pay off for all of the bullshit I have been through.
I still have anger, don’t misunderstand. Insurmountable anger in certain moments, it seems. All of this growth does not come without a hefty price tag, and for me, the cost is my patience, reason, and sanity. That anger is then compounded by not being able to react to anything, because I am always thinking ahead, making sure I remain even-keeled, so the maniac I divorced can never produce anything in writing that shows me acting irrationally. This proves to be incredibly difficult, since he is the one human being on this planet that could provoke *anyone* into physical violence or, at the very least, a shitty email exchange. I still marvel at times that I feel this way toward the one person I truly thought I knew better than anyone, and who I thought I could trust with everything.
This brand new shiny blog has already started an alarming amount of refocusing in my mind. It symbolizes a clean slate, and I love that fresh feeling. This July, it will be 3 years since I found out what he was doing behind my back. Since I went into self-preservation mode, and tried faking how much I hated the mere sight of him after I learned his awful truth. I feel so much lighter now that I have shed the baggage of what it meant to be married to someone who was so selfish, and so childish. I have grown and changed exponentially since this roller coaster began, yet then I speak with him, or I hear things from my son about things he has been doing or saying, and he is still the exact same person. This is one of the many reasons I always say what a lucky girl I am. Growth is taking place in me, and I am a better version of myself now, because of it.
The definition of stress:
Stress is an intrusion on your peaceful existence.
I turned 40, and during the course of that year, I became quite intimate with stress as I experienced 4 out of the top 5 causes of stress that someone can experience during the course of their lifetime. I changed careers, went through a heinous divorce, had to sell my house and move, and to top it off, underwent major surgery. To say it was a challenging year would be the understatement of the century, and the fact that I am not clinically depressed or a raging alcoholic is honestly a miracle. But, how can I not count my blessings amidst the chaos? I have my son, I have my health, I have a job, great friends, phenomenal family, and I was fortunate enough to have an authentic, genuine, healthy friendship blossom into new love. Getting to this point in one piece, still sane, and actually thriving can only mean one thing: I am strong. You can also call me a resilient bad-ass. Whatevs.
I am looking forward to everything that comes along each day. New opportunities, new experiences, or even old experiences seen again through a new filter — a filter that drips with gratitude and peace. It gets me excited to think about what could happen next, and it also excites me to document my journey in this blog as the new and recycled experiences come flying my way. I hope everyone who stops by to read will be able to relate, or possibly be enlightened or inspired to see something in a way they’ve never noticed it before. It’s all about perspective, and mine is sharper and clearer than ever. Lucky, lucky me.