Divorcemoon

Here’s where the divorcemoon comes in.  After an insane year of getting thru the hell that was the marriage, work and a ton of travel (mostly for work) I decided I needed some time to myself to fully gather my thoughts.

In the 9 months since he’s moved out, my life has been going pretty well.  I’m pretty much in the same place where I started four years ago when I met him.  I’ve learned a lot and through counselling and great friends and family am even finding “some” self confidence.

In order to celebrate the actual divorce (which if it isn’t final now, will be any day now!) I thought I’d celebrate with a trip.  A trip to South America.  3 weeks.  I bought the plane ticket on airmiles from my work travel (one of the perks of 3 major trips to Asia this year).    I also financed the rest of the trip by selling off my wedding ring and an old engagement ring.  Controversial I know.  I had been hanging on to the old engagement ring for years and as for the wedding ring, frankly, after how he left and ended it, he didn’t deserve it back.  It also gave me peace of mind to clear out old memories. So thanks to work and marriage (the two things that have given me the most stress this year)  I’m in South America!

I figure when people get married, they go on a honeymoon. Why shouldn’t I celebrate the end of something so horrible with a divorcemoon!  I’m here alone and have spent the past week and a half learning Spanish.  I’ll be spending the next week and a half on a winery in Argentina.  Life is good.  And it’s getting better every day.

I still don’t think I’m “built” for relationships given my history.  And it still amazes me that a year ago at this time, I was thinking there might be a chance I’d be pregnant or thinking about having kids by now and instead, I’m touring around the world trying to find myself, but all in all, I’m happy with where I am. And even more, I’m happy with myself.  And that’s the biggest surprise of all!

Security

A year ago, I thought I’d be pregnant by now.  In my very vague plan of life, thought that I’d try to get pregnant sometime around the end of this year.  This wasn’t a surprise to my ex, as having kids was the sole reason he wanted to get married: I was ok staying common law and having kids, he wasn’t.

My life since my plan a year ago, has changed 180 degrees.  I’m no longer thinking of a child in my future and whether day care will be something me and my partner will be able to afford.  The change is not something that’s necessarily for the worst, and, for the most part I am happy.  What I do however struggle with is the loss of security. That feeling and sensation of being secure in a relationship.  You’d think that after my 36 years of a pretty tumultuous life, I’d be used to this, but it appears not.  

For me, I felt like I thrived with the security I felt in that relationship.  Odd, since I hadn’t ever felt that before.  Ironic, because of all the relationships I’d had, this one had been the biggest sham.

To describe the feeling that I felt after this relationship ended would be like having the rug pulled from under you.  Once it’s pulled out, all the furniture goes flying and the glasses break.  Since my marriage ended (however short it may have been…) I feel like I’ve doubted every single thing I believe in and everything I am.  It’s like I have to rebuild myself from the foundation up.  Again, not necessarily a bad thing since I think it’s good to re-examine oneself and beliefs, just not something I thought I’d have to do a year ago!

Trust

 

One of the hardest things to get used to, is the fact that trust is gone. I mean not with “him” we don’t even communicate anymore. But how do you go from being happy and secure in life one day, having the rug pulled out from underneath you the next and moving on from that?

I’ve dipped my toe back into the dating pond. Or rather crocodile pond since that’s more what it feels like. I think it’s pretty understandable to say that it’s a scary world out there and that I hardly feel ready to “put it all out there”. But at the same time, I don’t want to be the girl that’s too afraid to date because she’s been hurt before. Bad enough I’m living the divorcee cliché, I don’t need to add another one to my list.

My brother recently got married. The last wedding I had previously went to was my own. Most of the guests that I knew, I had last seen at my wedding, so to say it was uncomfortable seeing them again is an understatement. However, I really didn’t want to be the person that everyone felt sorry for and saw crying in the corner. So I got out and mingled. I mingled and flirted with pretty much every guy there. Not in a slutty/embarrassing way. But in a the world is my oyster- I’m gonna put on a brave face kind of way. Turns out it was a good attitude.

One of my brother’s groomsmen and I flirted and got along well that night. Though he’s one of my brother’s best friends, I had never met him before. We exchanged numbers. He was in the process of moving to the city. It’s been two months, and we’re still seeing each other.

Here’s where the trust thing comes in. I like him, he likes me. I have no idea where this is gonna go, and for the first time in my life, I’m not worried about it. Most days, I’m starting to feel a little more secure. Then there’s the time when it takes a little longer for a phone call to be returned, or there’s a pause in conversation and I panic. I hide it pretty well and don’t let it show. But things that wouldn’t have occurred to me before, I now have little inside panics over. What if he doesn’t like me? What if he too leaves? Having someone leave like the ex did is one of the worst things someone can do to a person they claim they once loved. I have zero belief in my ability to start/maintain a relationship. If I gave the ex the best of what I am, and he walked away from it, how is anyone else ever gonna like me again. It’s a horrible feeling. I truly hope it’s temporary.

The first kiss

For the 2nd time in 3 months, I had to go to Asia again for work. This trip however included Thailand. Since I’d never been to Thailand before, I chose to extend my stay and stay on for ten days in Thailand. Partially because work had been so busy that I’d barely had a chance to catch my breath and also because it would give me some time alone to continue processing this whole “divorce” thing.

The first half of the trip was all work related. It was great though, I got along with the person that I travelled with. We got work done during the day but had some laughs on our travels and after work.

I headed to the south end of Phuket. I booked myself the nicest room at this resort built onto the side of the hill (hey, it may have been a hike up in the heat, but I was safe from any Tsunami!) My room and view were amazing. I booked a pool access room which meant that right off my private balcony, there was a shared pool with four other rooms.

Each day after I’d adventure around Phuket, I’d head back to my room and swim in my semi-private infinity pool. It was heaven. Phuket was great, I spent my time going for Thai massages, taking cooking classes and taking a boat tour up Phang Nga Bay.

One lazy afternoon, I was lounging on the side of my infinity pool. I saw a cute guy swim by. We made conversation as I would have with anyone that would have swam by, just so happened he was young and good looking! We started chatting. His English had a sexy Spanish accent to it. Could a girl ask for anything else? Through more conversation, we each surmised we were traveling alone. We agreed to have drinks on the beach and catch the sunset. At this point, I discovered he was ten years younger than me. It didn’t even cross my mind that this would be anything romantic at all. He offered to tour me around the rest of Phuket at night. We drove around and took in all the crazy, whacky sights of Phuket (and assured me that I made the right decision in staying in much quieter and saner Kata)

We ended back at the hotel at 3am. Since it was still warm out, we went for a swim in our pool. Even though I didn’t have romantic intentions with him, it was an incredibly romantic setting and I may have had a couple too many drinks. In his charming Spanish accent, he asked if he could kiss me. What’s a girl supposed to say but “of course!” And there, under the stars, in Thailand, tipsy from cocktails, I found myself kissing the cute Spanish boy ten years younger than me. That was all the encouragement I needed to know that everything was going to be ok and life would not only be ok again, it would be great.

Cleaning House

The day he moved out I came home from work late one day. I still can’t help but think that had I not come home late that day, would we still be together? I’ve gone over that day in my head a thousand times. As soon as I pulled into the garage, my heart sank. I had a sinking feeling that something was wrong. I came home and all looked well. Then, about to start the very menial task of laundry, that’s when I realized all his stuff was gone. I couldn’t believe that after everything we’d been through and everything he’d put me through, not a note nothing. Just gone. I called him. No answer. He eventually came back to at least give me a goodbye. His eyes were dead. I couldn’t believe that this was actually the person who I thought was my lifemate and who I thought I was going to spend the rest of my life with nine months ago.

I told him that if he left, my door was closed. Forever. I’ve never been one of those people to look back. Once I break up with someone, that’s it. Done. Once he left, I felt the need to immediately clean the apartment of every trace of him. First to go, wedding pictures. I was frantic. I was running around the place crying and throwing everything that had a hint of him into garbage bags. Friends and family came over to console me. All I wanted to do was rid the place of him. I threw out the sheets he had slept in, threw out shoes, clothes, you name it. Anything he left behind. For weeks, I would wake up in the middle of the night and remember something that belonged to him. When the garbage can got so full of his stuff, I remembered that it was his garbage can. So that went to. There was something so exhilarating about clearing the place of any sight, smell and sound of him. Now, I could concentrate on picking up the pieces.

Taking it all off for the camera

It was coming up to the 1 year wedding anniversary. It killed me that I didn’t even make it to year one of a marriage. Through everything that happened, I still couldn’t help but feel I was somewhat of a failure. I was less of a woman. As it was, I already had issues with self confidence. I was starting to come to the realization that I married someone with the opposite of low self confidence. Though at one point I loved him, I always knew he was self centered and self absorbed. If the conversation turned away from him, he would be bored and disinterested. I was starting to realize that maybe I picked this person because I had low self confidence and by him being the way it was, it took the spotlight off of me as he had enough confidence for the two of us combined. Knowing this wasn’t the healthiest, I was on a mission to build (or rebuild) my self confidence. First stop, a professional photographer.

I’ve never been a photogenic person. To the point where friends would laugh at pictures taken of me. Rarely did they look like me. If a picture was taken, my eyes were closed, I was making a goofy face etc… so step one into building my confidence, I thought it would be helpful to have good pictures of me to look at. Friends and family have always told me I’m an attractive girl and other than the odd time catching myself in the mirror, I never believed them. I scoured the internet for professional photographers and found one that specialized in boudoir photography. That’s right, not only was I going to get pictures taken, I was going to get pictures taken of me in my underwear. Terrifying! Once the date was set, Laura told me to bring a number of lingerie outfit changes. I went lingerie shopping for the first time with not a man in mind, but the goal of being able to see myself in it. Another very terrifying thought! Most of Laura’s clients do the boudoir photoshoot to a boyfriend or husband as an anniversary or wedding gift. She asked me why I was doing this. I told her because my husband left me and when he left, he took what little was left of my self confidence (something about this whole divorce thing was making me brutally honest towards strangers, I felt I was starting to become the freaky divorcee- note to self… must work on this!)

The photo shoot was taken in a beautiful hotel room. There was a professional makeup artist who did my makeup. Laura started with the least revealing outfit; a black silk sleep shirt. The first few frames felt awkward. Other than my wedding pictures, I’ve never had but then she found the right lighting and angles and she started getting excited. She asked me if I wanted to see some of the first few frames. I said sure. She showed them to me and I looked at her and said “that’s not me” she said “of course it is!” As cheesy as it sounds, I finally saw what my friends and family were drilling into my head. Though I have been through this shitty situation, behind all that was actually a beautiful woman who could make it through anything. The photoshoot progressed through a number of different outfit changes. And though I still find it hard to look at some of the pics of me in my bra and underwear (and I think my thighs look fat, and I hate my chin) through it all, I was starting to uncover the fact that in the end, I was comfortable with myself and you know what? I wasn’t half bad looking either!

Anger and 18 time zones

After my crazy trapeze adventure, it was time for my first trip. Friends, family and counsellor warned me that the first trip might be hard. The whole no one to pick you up from the airport and coming back to an empty apartment could be quite hard they said. I figured I was doing great. It had been almost a month and I didn’t cry that much anymore. I was getting out of the house and hell, I had even swung from a trapeze.

One of the hardest things to deal with was that most of the people I worked with were married and were either pregnant or had kids. Most of them were pretty close to my age or younger. It struck me for the first time that there was a very real chance that a family, kids or another husband/mate would not be in my future. Afterall, I was 36 and it had taken me until 33 to even find someone I contemplated settling down with. I tried to hold it together best I could at work but it was incredibly hard.

I got to Hong Kong after a 13 hour flight. Traveling always seems to mess with my sleep schedule and this trip was no exception. I woke up each morning at 5am and would go for a walk along the Hong Kong seawall. Oddly enough, it was the only time I had seen Hong Kong so calm and serene and it was a great feeling. Something about the cool breeze and grey clouds oddly suited my mood.

Most of the past month I had spent angry. Not angry that it had ended, after all that seemed inevitable. The anger was over the fact that he had walked away. Wasn’t it supposed to be me? Over the past nine months everything that I ever believed it was tested and everything that I said I wouldn’t stand for in a relationship had happened. I didn’t think that he had the right to just give it all up and walk away. Without even much of an explanation. I wanted him to feel. I wanted him to feel some of the pain that I dealt with and for him to acknowledge what he did was a very shitty thing. So I’d wake up in Hong Kong in the middle of the night and email him. Not a great idea. My ex was never known for his communication skills, he did afterall end it by just moving out. But when faced with a crisis throughout his life he chose to run. Why did I think emailing him my innermost thoughts would get the desired response? When I came home, I was overwhelmed by my anger, empty house and realization that it was completely over that I fell apart for a few days. So much for progress. Eventually, I got over the anger, only to experience frustration.