Almost exactly a year ago, I quit blogging. I did this for the usual reasons: I was busy, I felt uninspired, and several aspects of my life needed my attention. If I had any subconscious premonition of the twelve-month rollercoaster I was about to experience, I certainly didn’t realize it. I sometimes wonder if I shut it down because I knew deep down that tough times were coming that I would rather not share with a thousand readers. At the time, though, I honestly don’t remember having any such motivation. At any rate, in November, just a few weeks after I wrote my last post, my husband and I received the news that his company was transferring him. Ultimately, this would prove to be a far, far more serious development in our relationship than either of us had the sense to realize at the time. Case in point: in March of this year, we totally split up. Whoops!
We’re still good friends. I call him now and again; when he’s in town, he stops by to visit his rabbit. Sometimes, he takes me to dinner, or we see a movie. It isn’t always a simple friendship, for obvious reasons, but it’s a real one. There is a part of what we once were that still feels deliciously true; after all, we routinely discuss how awesome it would be if we both wore this shirt to any upcoming court dates. When I told him that I had named my new cat Finito Garante (or Nito for short), he laughed rather heartily, especially for a severely allergic man who had just separated from the cat owner in question. At times during this process, I have found him wildly exasperating, and I’m sure he could say the same, but we do still care about each other, and the grim, irreverent humor that once made us such a good married couple has made us a good divorced couple as well, even now that we’re both dating other people.
It’s complicated, but the official explanation for our breakup (an explanation that we agreed upon during an emergency meeting held over pizza, a fact that still makes me perversely proud of both of us) is this: We had our problems, just like any couple. In the end, they got the better of us. We naively thought that people would accept this as long as it was delivered in a firm tone, not because they found it satisfactory but because they were astute and/or polite enough to recognize when a topic was off-limits.
We were wrong, of course.
“But … what HAPPENED?” people would press, and I guess their sense of entitlement to the most personal details of my existence shouldn’t have shocked me, but it did, over and over. As the months passed, “What happened?” quickly became my least favorite question of all time. I would receive it at insanely inopportune moments; people think nothing of asking such a question over dinner at a restaurant, for example, as if describing one of the most traumatic transitions of my life would come naturally to me between spoonfuls of mashed potatoes. Their tone would be friendly and casual; you could tell they thought nothing of it. To them, this was a blurb in a magazine, the sort of factoid that People might print under a cute little icon of a broken heart. To me, it was my entire existence. It was a suffocating, heavy medium I was dragging myself through a day at a time. I learned to sneak in a few tears while I bent to tie my shoes or while I looked down at my tea to stir it, the way one involuntarily steals a second or two of sleep in between thoughts while driving down the highway at night. It felt like leaking, like I was so full of emotions that they had no choice but to spill out around my edges occasionally. I had no idea how to explain this experience in the time it might take a server to fetch an appetizer. I didn’t really understand why I was expected to try.
For your future social reference, the only appropriate response to “I’m getting divorced” is “Oh, I’m so sorry to hear that!” The divorcing person will then say, “Thank you,” at which point the two of you will stare a bit awkwardly at one another for a beat or two as you wait for the divorcing person to guide you from there. It’s their show, you see. It’s their show, because they’re the one in pain, and that means that they get to decide what they need, and that means that what they need is far more important than your morbid curiosity. Often, at the time, what I needed was to move on from the subject altogether, which I would do, breezily and perhaps a little too rapidly. If my conversational partner was socially competent, he or she would immediately follow suit, rather than somewhat belligerently insisting that SOMETHING must have happened, or telling me how upset or betrayed or confused my divorce was making them feel, as if it was my job to console them about the demise of my own relationship.
I don’t care how close you think you are to the person in question; I don’t care how good a friend you assume yourself to be. It still never hurts to follow that protocol, just in case you’re overestimating your own importance in the scenario, or in case the divorcing person in question simply don’t feel like talking about it. Getting divorced is a lot like getting married: everyone fancies themselves deserving of an invitation. Don’t be that office acquaintance who doesn’t realize they’re just an office acquaintance, because that’s awkward for everybody involved. Even if you are a good friend, remember that this poor person has had to tell this story literally hundreds of times. Be patient; it’s not about you. (I’m thinking of my dear friend Alexa, here, and saluting her downright heroic devotion to etiquette. She is the farthest thing possible from an unwelcome guest at the divorce party; in fact, I would love nothing more than to discuss the whole thing with her at some point, if only to take advantage of her keen insight. But at the time I broke the news to her, I was too exhausted to do so. And in the months since, throughout her supportive e-mails and encouraging messages, she has never asked, not once, because that woman is classy as all hell. Watch and learn, people.)
God bless those of you who did this right; in humanity’s defense, many of you did, and you made me so grateful that I wanted to kiss you. And to those who told me they felt betrayed, that they had BELIEVED in my marriage, that they feel as if everything I’ve ever said about the love that my husband and I shared has now been invalidated: I’m sorry. I really am. All I can say is that life is not a movie, and love is not always forever, at least not in its original form. It’s a marriage, not the tooth fairy; you may believe in it if you like, but understand that there is no foolproof magic involved. Jen Mattern said it best, here: “If you are one of two happy parts loving and living together as a one, I ask you to count your blessings, to reserve judgment, and to put aside speculation about those who have lost their way. You are fortunate in what you know, and in what you do not know.” Amen. Oh God, amen.
At any rate, I’m fine now. Better than fine, even. Immediately after it happened, I was overtaken by that part of yourself that you always hope will be there, the part that pries off its shoes, flips over onto its back, and starts kicking not three seconds after you lurch unexpectedly overboard into shark-infested waters with a gasp and a splash. From there, it was just a matter of time until I came out here, where I am now, happy again. Sometimes, when I’m walking down the sidewalk, a breeze kicks up in the leaves of the trees all around me, and I catch myself smiling at nothing like a complete and total asshole, filled with a glee that I can’t explain. Or maybe I can explain it: It’s a beautiful day, and not only I am here to see it, but I can do whatever the hell I want with it. The first time since the breakup that I felt that giddy happiness for no reason at all, I was both delighted and shocked—I had honestly forgotten that such a feeling existed, the one where you feel as if the tiniest leap into the air would free you of any gravity whatsoever and you could sail up over everything like a helium balloon. After some time had passed, that feeling became a more frequent visitor. And after even more time had passed, it finally came home.
Now what? Well, I don’t know, really. I can’t promise it’ll even be interesting. But I’m ready to try this whole blogging thing again, for a while. I hope you enjoy it, and I hope you forgive me for pulling that stunt where one Batman movie ends with a nice convincing love story involving Kim Basinger and then all of a sudden the next Batman movie opens and you’re all, “Wait, where the hell is Kim Basinger?” That made me rather angry when I was twelve, so I am truly sorry if I’ve inspired such ire in you as a reader. I certainly didn’t plan it that way, but I promise to redeem myself with … uh, whatever the metaphorical equivalent to Michelle Pfeiffer in a catsuit might be. (I’ll keep working on that.)
Meanwhile, welcome! I’ve missed you, friends.
39 Comments
I clearly have not been following along on facebook (because I mostly hate facebook, but that’s another story) because I had no idea you & Jeff had split up. I am truly sorry to hear it; divorce is never, ever easy no matter what you reasons are. I am so glad to hear that you’re both doing okay and keeping your senses of humor which is VITAL to, uh, life in general?
Anyway, I’m thrilled to bits you’re blogging again! I’ve missed you!
Also, you’re making me think hard about my behavior toward a good friend of mine who got divorced this past year, and wince. I think I needed to read this. I don’t know if that friendship can ever be the same (for other reasons only related to the divorce in that the divorce threw a harsh light on them) but I am thinking now that I could have done some things differently. So thanks for that. Look at that, one blog post and already you’re being thanked for making me think hard.
Thanks, Bethany! I’m actually sipping chai out of your mug right now.
And don’t feel bad–this experience has made ME think hard about my behavior toward people who have dealt with such things in the past. I have absolutely no doubt that I have committed some of the same social missteps.
It’s tricky, because sometimes, you DO grieve a friend’s marriage. You just forget that perhaps that friend is not the most appropriate person to tell about it, especially when that person is possibly already sensitive to the notion that she’s upsetting or disappointing people.
Also, I think that when we get bad news from someone and start asking questions, we forget how many times that poor person has had to answer those questions. We’re essentially making them relive the same bad thing over and over again. I think I’ve always been a pretty polite person, but I have a newfound respect for how important it is to handle those situations with sensitivity and let the other person take the lead.
Most people clearly had good intentions, and I did recognize and appreciate that. I’m sure your friend did too!
Wow! Thanks for being back and sharing your news. I’m glad for you (and very selfishly for myself as I love your writing).
Best,
Helen
(remember www? Helped me tons, thank you)
I’m sorry to hear about your divorce. But I’m thrilled you rediscovered that giddy happiness. And I’m (with Helen) absolutely and selfishly excited that you’re blogging again.
Welcome back, my friend. We missed you. xoxo
Wow. So you haven’t been hanging out and sipping coffee while enjoying life and not worrying about how to write about the coffee drinking. Got it.
I’m sorry but it sounds like you’re getting through things quite well. So good for you.
And welcome back.
Hi girl!
So glad you’re back blogging! Now you just need to update me on the book (have you had time/energy/inspiration to work on it? I know how divorce can suck all those away for a while).
Sorry to hear about you and Jeff. I understand how weird and confusing (and damn inconvenient!) it is to get a divorce. I know you will both be better off though – I am for sure after my restart of the single life!
Looking forward to our newfound (mostly one way) relationship. So glad you’re blogging again!!!!!!!!
Johanna
I am so glad you’re blogging again, and I can relate to this more than I care to acknowledge, but I think I’ll just email you about that.
I am so sorry to hear about your marriage, but I am glad you’re coming out on the other side feeling happy and peaceful.
Once again, I’m reminded of how much I adore your writing… I’m so happy you’re back.
I’m so glad you’re back online because I miss reading amazing posts written by an actual writer. I truly am sorry things didn’t work out for you two but I’m also glad you both were mature enough to recognize that and not go through the next 25 years trying to fool yourselves into believing you were happy. I see that WAAAAY too often and it is just so sad.
Thank you for sharing this beautiful prologue. I actually learned a valuable etiquette lesson.
Thanks for inviting me to the new place. Being included makes me feel like one of the cool kids, a rare feeling these days.
I had no idea you were going through all of this over the past year, and I think that’s perfectly appropriate. Who the hell am I, after all? I’m not even sure I exist. I’m sorry for any pain and I’m glad you’re able to be joyful.
Hello, uh… Trephinist?
I’m glad to have you back! I wondered if some major was happening with you but didn’t feel totally comfortable sending a message on Facebook because I’m bashful that way. I’m glad you are healing and doing well. I’m super glad you are blogging again!
By the way, your cat is adorable, same as the bunny as always.
I look forward to hearing more about roller derby (I still want to try it), Hugh, Nito, and all the wild (eh, maybe not wild) ideas circulating in you head. Cheers!
Wow, Jennifer… (I’m sorry, that was just weird to type/say in my head…) I too am sorry to hear about your divorce. I am very happy however, to hear that you are happy and to be able to read your blog again! Yeah! Welcome back.
Hey divorce buddy! I’m glad you’re back. I’ve been considering starting fresh with a new blog myself. We’ll see…
Good to have you back. I missed you. I am very sorry to hear about your divorce, but I can understand that this isn’t anything that you necessarily want to discuss with other people, sometimes not even good friends.
I am happy you are back in the blogosphere. I have missed your writing.
xo
I too have a very selfish response. I’m so glad you’re back. My year also had some drastic changes with handing over a business we’d grown and finding new jobs etc, etc. I feel like my life is finally coming to a more peaceful simmer. Hope yours is also.
Oops, “The Trephinist” is a bit of a mouthful, isn’t it. I forgot about that little bit of setup instructions. Here we are! Jen or Jennifer will do nicely, as always.
Also, thanks everybody! I rolled out of bed this morning all “Ohhhhh God, self, what the hell were you thinking?” But that was before I remembered that I love everybody! Yay!
Welcome home! I’m so glad you’re back, Jen. And I’m terribly sorry to hear about the divorce, but so glad things are looking up.
Welcome back! I’ve missed reading you on the Interwebs.
I shall call you “Butter Bean.” Because I love you.
Well, shit. I’m sorry to hear about the divorce, because that just sucks no matter how you slice it. However, it sounds like it was relatively amicable and you’ve clearly come out the other end OK, which are the important things. I’m so glad you’re blogging again, because I missed the silly rabbit stories.
Well I’m totally digging the blog’s name and jealous that I would never ever have come up with something so… appropriate. You will do it justice I think.
And I’m not sorry for anything – but glad you’re back at it in the blogosphere. Good stuff (to come) Maynard.
It’s all I got.
Now – over to the RSS reader for some important cut-and-paste.
I’m glad you’re blogging again! Sorry to hear about the divorce. My husband and I decided to separate about a month ago; the divorce itself will take some time because we have a daughter and we’re living several thousands miles away from each other right now. I absolutely dread telling people that we’re splitting up because we were THAT couple: the one that was so in love, that seemed to have it all together, that people thought would make it. And every time I tell someone, I feel like such a failure – not just for myself, but like I failed them too. But anyway, it is getting easier and actually, since we decided to split we’ve become really good friends again (something that I haven’t been able to say for a couple of years now) so I think we’re going to be okay.
I love you, and I’m so glad to see this.
I am so effing glad you are back.
This writing is so pretty it makes my boobs hurt. In a good way. (You’ve totally missed my lame and wildly inappropriate commentary, haven’t you?!)
I am sorry that you have had to deal with divorce and people who think it is their business. Both suck a duck.
Love you.
xo
I knew there was a reason I kept the old URL on my reader. So glad you’re back. Sounds like a crazy year, but yay! for coming out the other side.
Welcome back to blogging. I hope this go-round is a better experience than the last one and wish you best of luck in all of your new adventures.
You know what? I totally thought of you recently when a roller derby team formed in my town. I considered joining … then chickened out after (many many) people I know told me I was insane or looked at me like “really?” They all asked me the same question: “You know what roller derby IS, right?” So, anyway, I can’t wait to hear how that’s going for you.
Good to have you back. Looking forward to reading your blog again. And I’m sorry about your divorce. It sounds like you’re in a good place now.
Welcome back. The internet missed you.
I won’t lurk this time.
I was smack in the middle of yoga school when I got the (exciting!) email alerting me to the presence of this site. So it has taken me until just today to actually VISIT the site…
And WOW, you have had an insane year. Thank you for sharing it with us. And I bet every other commenter is on this theme but congratulations for making it through a supremely difficult and trying time and coming out on the other side wiser, relatively unscathed (or maybe you just wear the scathings well) and as funny as ever.
Glad to have you back! You kick ass.
Good gracious, I missed you. Welcome to this new thing.
Welcome back to blogging.
Honestly, I can’t imagine why people would probe and feel entitled to know “What Happened?” when hearing of divorce. My parents got a divorce this year after 35 years of marriage and there are times that I know a little less of the “what happened” because I don’t need that burden sitting with me all the time.
Anyway… I am glad you are back to blogging because you are such a talented writer.
Hello I’m a new reader, sent here by Kerri Anne. First off, you are a really great writer. Second, thank you for being so open and honest about your divorce–50% of us married folks have been there, but we don’t talk about it much. I also took a hiatus from blogging that started just before my marriage broke up. Like you, I didn’t see it coming, but maybe I knew it in my guts. Anyway, things are much better now on the other side, and hey, if nothing else at least I have stories. I am *not* friendly with my ex at all, and feel free to gently skewer him online from time to time
Thanks so much for this. My husband and I just separated and I moved out. This post made me cry at work, but gave me hope that one day I’ll smile again.
It’s funny that you reference unicorns in your About page, because finding your new blog was not unlike stumbling across a unicorn in the forest – I always hoped that it existed and I wished really hard for it, and then one day it magically appeared in front of me.
Your writing is so sincere, touching, and clever. I am so glad you’re back (even if it turns out to be fleeting, as unicorn sightings sometimes are).
This post was just beautiful.
I have archives of your old blog on my Blackberry and I read them frequently hoping that one day you’d return.
It’s the understatement of the year for me to say I’m happy that you’re back.
*happy dance*
I hope you don’t mind…I’m going to be reading here for a bit. Starting the process of this myself and a friend sent me here. Gah, I could write this post myself. Although not as eloquently.
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