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I've been on my own for a year now. Partner-less but child-full, and
the changes ebb and flow. Some days I recognize and greet the woman
I've become like the long lost friend she is; other days, I weep at the
emptiness when my reflection is a stranger. My mind is over-saturated,
seeping with hope and fear, with love and loneliness. My mother warned
me about the loneliness. You can't anticipate it, she said. She
was right; when it hits, its acuity is piercing. And with the holidays
upon us, it is hitting a bit too frequently.
Last year, I expected the holidays to be difficult. After all, the
split from my ex was so fresh I could taste the acidity of its newness.
I hadn't even had a chance to break the news to all of my family, and
those who did know were struggling mightily to understand my decision.
So, instead of navigating the potential landmines in a family
Thanksgiving out of town, I chose to stay home. My ex had taken our
daughter to visit his family, and I used the quiet to practice yoga,
sleep, and connect with friends. And although the scents of
Thanksgiving and the friendly chaos of family were absent, I remember
thinking "it's different, but I think I can do this".
Fast forward a year later, and here I am pondering how exactly to do
this. Thanksgiving is in two days, and for the last week I've been lost
in the fairytale of where I thought I might be by now. It's tinged in
flames of red and orange, honey and cinnamon. In it, I'm warm. Full.
There is laughter and peace, children and love. There is a sanctuary
with a shoulder on which I can rest my head and arms to hold me. How
tired my head has become this year...and how abandoned my body. It's no
wonder I am fleeing to a fantasy.
It isn't that I'm wishing for the "old days" because I'm not. Holiday
gatherings were never ideal while married either. They were never mine.
I was always participating on the peripheral rather than creating in
the center. And I want to create. It isn't that I want a certain someone
either. In fact, I'm losing my grip on the hope that there will even be
someone who can give me what I need anytime soon. I suppose what I'm
missing most about this holiday is the sense of belonging - that
feeling that I'll be exactly where I belong. I remember having it as a
child, and I want it back.
I'm headed back to my hometown to spend a couple of days with my
parents and some of my siblings and their families. I'm traveling
without my little one, and even though there are days when I'm so tired
I count the hours until she is with her father, I ache knowing she
won't be with me. I miss her already. And I'm worried that my family
still won't know what to say to me. That they'll still tiptoe around
the topic of my divorce and forget how to talk to me about everything
else. That still I'll be on the peripheral looking in. But at least I'm
going. I'm trying to figure how to do this.
There are lots of women out there thinking complicated thoughts. They, too, are trying to make it work - even though the it is different for each. I read their blogs and for a few minutes, I feel understood. Maybe you will, too.
Jen at Au Revoir, Goodbye, So Long: life after divorce has too much on her mind. I can relate.
Another Jen at Jenn Lee writes about friendship and neuroses and other things that are too complex to fit on a t-shirt.
Alaina at Single Mom, Ms Single Mama shares an unreal but very true story that captures the tremendous lengths we will go for people we love.
Happy Thanksgiving, friends.
Cross-posted at Notions of Identity
