The D- Word

You know what’s funny? All this writing I do, both on and off this blog, and I never actually wrote about my divorce. Divorce. What a terrible word.

So as I spent this last week prepping and preparing to make this whole MAVERICK thing public, it hit me that I need to write about it. Because even though this vision was born before I was officially single, it was first put to the test by my divorce.

There’s no words to fully describe what it feels like. To promise someone forever, to say aloud “for better or worse,” to declare in front of all of your family and friends that you are now one with another person… and then quit. Because the fight got too hard; he, she, we changed; maybe it wasn’t love after all? Even my half-sentences don’t do it justice. It’s pain and heartache and confusion and freedom and excitement and fear all entangled into a giant messy ball that weights 1000 pounds and hits you in the gut every time you realize you are doing something as a “me” instead of a “we.”

I remember the last day I sat in what used to be our house, at what used to be our desk, with who used to be our dog… it was eerie. I had never felt such sadness and loneliness like I did that day. So I wrote a poem. I saved it on my computer in a folder that says “AVOID.” It sits there amongst old pictures, a few unsent forgiveness letters, and our vows.

A few weeks ago, I was brave enough to open the folder and click on that file. And I’d like to share it with you:

I’m in the house all alone.
Counting down the hours until
I can stop pretending this is all okay.
It’s not, you know… okay.
The rooms feel emptier now.
But I still remember when
they were full of life,
full of joy, full of love.
I close my eyes and breathe in
remembering when this adventure
was only just beginning.
We were so young,
it was easy to love.
I breathe out,
thinking fondly of the words
we once spoke.
Promises made,
dreams supported,
feelings appreciated.
Eyes open,
I’m drawn to the pictures.
Those candid moments,
they feel like just yesterday.
Yet, the spark they held
is so far gone.
Hot tears streak my face,
as I again feel the emotions.
I replay the moments
I wish had gone differently.
We could’ve, We should’ve,
Can we still?
Would you fight for us,
like I’ve tried to?
They all said it would be hard.
We didn’t believe them.
How could we?
It was easy for us,
we said we’d be different.
I know, I know
a marriage takes two.
It’s not one half
who can take the whole blame.
Despite the hurt,
the marriage that’s faded,
I do have hope
that you will learn
to let love in.
Tear down those walls,
voice those intelligent thoughts,
and open your eyes
to the beauty this world holds.
I did not keep every vow,
I pray you can forgive me.
But know this,
and never forget:
I will always love you,
there is no regret.

There have been so many moments since then that I’ve wondered if I did the right thing. It’s funny how when we’re hurting we only remember the good stuff, and all of a sudden we second-guess our boldness, isn’t it?

I know MAVERICK is just a word. But it’s a word that reminds me of the power that I hold inside. I have to power to say “I deserve more.” I have the power to make choices that feel good to me. I have the power to overcome obstacles, face fears, and do the hard work needed to be someone I am proud of.

I also have power to fail. Yes, it’s a power. I have the space to change my mind, the patience to ask myself what I want and need, and the freedom to take any of the millions of unsteady paths to my best life.

I didn’t plan this. No one does. When I said “forever,” I meant it. But, in an effort to honor the commitment I had made to my ex-husband, I lost sight of the commitment to myself. I lost sight of myself entirely.

MAVERICK has given me the strength and the foundation I need to be unapologetically myself. When all the noise stopped – the doubt, the negativity, the fear, the anxiety – there was a spark. Where one light has faded, another was just beginning. And I’ll be damned if it isn’t bigger, brighter, and more beautiful than it ever was before.

How?

I lit it, myself.

 

 

So no, divorce wasn’t easy for me. I still put my wedding band on, pour a glass of whiskey, and cry in the bathtub on occasion. But like any great failure, it’s how you recover that defines who you are.

And divorce has been my greatest failure of all. I’m not afraid to say it. It was the culmination of all the running away from past, avoiding the real pain I held inside, and the desperate need to be what others needed. Divorce allowed me to face it all. Divorce ultimately healed me.

Divorce gave MAVERICK meaning. And I want to spend all of this new-found raw energy helping others to find their MAVERICK as well.

Where one light has faded, another was just beginning. And I’ll be damned if it isn’t bigger, brighter, and more beautiful than it ever was before.

Yea, I needed to say it again…

 

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