Five Things I’m Losing In Our Divorce

After 12 years of marriage and 16 years together, I’m calling it. I’m getting a divorce. While I understood that the decision to divorce meant that my life wouldn’t be the same, I didn’t realize how all the ways it would affect me. There are things that I’m losing now, even as we still co-habitate.

1. Having a home.

Now, I’m not homeless. I have family and friends who would never let me go without a roof over my head. But since I decided to pursue divorce (and couldn’t afford to move out), I slept on the couch in the living room for several months. Then I bought an air mattress to feel more human. I sleep on it in the front room of the house separated from the living room by only a shower curtain I hung between the two rooms. My clothes are in that room (in the bureau and the floor—mostly the floor) and a small room we never used for anything other than random storage. My toiletries are all over the place. I’m the only one on the first floor and don’t spend much time upstairs anymore. I don’t have any privacy. I don’t have a door or any closets. I don’t have any space of my own. And the best example of my rootless state? My bra now stays on until I go to sleep. So, while I may own a house with him still, but I most definitely do not have a home anymore.

2. My Cool on a Daily Basis.

I have never been described as a laid-back person. In my family, there is something known as “an Amanda mood.” (Trust me, you DON’T want to see it.) But while my home life disintegrated, my ability to maintain my cool got exponentially worse. I go between keeping things super clean and organized (that doesn’t last a long time) and letting everything slide. While I’m making the constant transition between those two states, I’m usually frazzled. And when I’m frazzled, I don’t have the patience for much. Maybe I can’t remember where I put my shoes. Or maybe he’s made plans at the last minute without telling me. Or maybe I’m just feeling bad because divorce feels like another failure in my life. But my younger kid started asking me on a consistent basis, “Mom, are you mad right now?” The honest answer is usually “yes,” even when I tell him, “no, I’m just tired.” My hope is that when we have physically separated our daily lives and we aren’t living in this state of limbo that I can regain my equilibrium, but I won’t know until that happens.

3. My mask.

This one isn’t actually all bad. I am dropping the pretense that everything is fine (except with the kids). The bad part is that I’m lonely, but the good part is that I’m (slowly) starting to regain (or even create) my identity. When we were getting married he told me that not taking his last name was a “deal breaker.” I had never planned NOT to take his last name, but when he said it, a little voice niggled in the back of my head. It kept saying, “But you aren’t a HISLASTNAME.” And I wasn’t. Not then, not in the 12 years since I took it, and certainly not now. I obviously have to still use it in lots of situations (e.g., signing checks, at medical providers, around the children), but whenever I can, I’ve dropped the name. I changed my email name and social media profiles. When I sign my son’s homework sheet, I only use my first name. When I introduce myself to people, I use MY name (i.e., my maiden name). I’ve also started buying little things that appeal to me. I’m dreaming of how my place will look. I’m going to have crazy colored plates (we always had plain white because “that was the proper thing to do”). I will have mismatched towels and sheets. I won’t have refrigerators stuffed with leftovers because I don’t like leftovers. I’ll have a freezer empty enough to always have a pint of ice cream fit inside it. It’s all the little things that make me, ME.

4. The luxury of thinking “What IF?” for the reality of “What NOW???!!!!” 

“If only I had….”; “If only he had….”; “If only WE had/not….” ALL of those thoughts go through my head about six trillion times a day (and more at night once I’ve gone to sleep). But the reality is, I’ve made a decision that I don’t want to be married, and so it doesn’t truly matter what could have been different. Beating myself/him/us up about it won’t get me to the place I want. When I was still deciding whether I wanted to break up, I could bask in all the different ways we could’ve been happy. I’m not sure it helped me at all, but I liked doing it.  But now I’ve pulled the trigger and set events in motion. We are done as a couple. I have to get along with him AND to do that we must live apart. So instead of thinking about what could have been, I have to change tracks and figure out practical stuff like when to leave, where to go, how to afford it, when and what to tell the kids and how to figure out two households. It isn’t all that fun, but at least I am doing it.

5. My love of “Baby Got Back.” 

He was never a big dancer, but the handful of times we went out and he actually danced with me, Sir-Mix-A-Lot’s ode to the derriere was the closest thing we ever got to a song. Not long ago, I was working from home and listening to Pandora. The girl’s spoken intro started to play, and I just got sad. I thought back to when it would come on and we weren’t miserable together. It’s actually pretty weird that is our song because I don’t have back. I never did.  Pandora tried to play the song again a week later. I clicked “dislike” so it wouldn’t play anymore.

I’m positive there will be more that I’ll lose before this is all over. Maybe once it’s over I won’t think of all this as a loss. Maybe I’ll think about what could have been and maybe we’ll all dance to “Baby Got Back” again and laugh.