Tuesday, June 25, 2013

Musings on divorce

Feel free to skip this if you don't want to read about personal angst.  This post isn't about blame or shame or anything like that. It is about how much divorce hurts -- but how it can be the only way to heal.

It has been four and a half years since I fled California and the terror that was my state there.  I haven't spoken to many people about what really went on (and almost no one in California has heard anything from me since I left).  With the support of my husband and my family I'm finally starting to move out from the fear that has dominated me, and I feel like I should talk a little bit about what happened.

I won't be getting into any detail or naming any names or even blaming anyone.  I will be talking in an extended (and perhaps labored) metaphor for what my previous marriage and life was like.

To me, the marriage turned out to be a large, rough granite boulder with many sharp spikes, to which I was anchored firmly by chains attached to hundreds barbed fishing hooks of all sizes pierced through my skin.  At first it seemed like I could count on it to anchor me and provide a haven.  As time went on, the hooks dug deeper into my muscles, the rock points rubbed me raw, and I was crying and silently screaming several times a day*. Eventually the raw sores and deep hooks became infected.  I did some very foolish things trying to make myself comfortable while still being anchored, including attempting to bash my head into the wall hard enough to make myself black out to escape the pain* - and things even more damaging and asinine.  Finally, four and a half years ago, screaming, crying, I pulled myself away while the hooks ripped out of me.

I hurt, I bled, but away from it I could finally start to heal.

My husband, Joshua, has been absolutely essential in my healing.  He helped me remove the last of the barbs that stuck in my flesh, helped me bandage and treat the wounds.  Today, I am scarred, but I am healing - and when the nightmares come and the panic attacks start, he's there to hold me.

*This last bit isn't metaphor.
*Also not metaphor.