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My divorce took fourteen months. As fate would have it, that was also the exact length of time as my engagement. During that period, and even occasionally still today, my friends and family comforted me with the notion of karma. The magic medication of the jilted spouse, the universal corrector of all wrongs to right and right to wrongs. I prayed to the Gods of Karma daily. I even silently made deals and offered up personal emotional sacrifices to the karma Gods just to have them respond to my divorcee siren song. I prayed, and I prayed... for karma.
At the time it was a comforting notion. It kept me warm at night and gave me something to have fantastical daydreams about when awake. Most of all it made me feel emotionally safe. Like a life preserver on the Titanic, I desperately clung to it. Knowing the ship that had once promised and vowed safe passage was going down I believed my karma preserver would save me.
My mind played out many fantastical and sometimes elaborately funny scenarios by which my cheating husband would feel the pain I had been feeling. Only his justice would be served on a platter of hilarity. Well, hilarious for me anyway because I love nothing more than to laugh so hard I cry. He'd get his, I'd get my laugh and become magically happier. And so on I prayed for karma.
This got me through my divorce, all of this praying to the God of karma. After all I had heard about this magical karma train since childhood and firmly believed in its existence. I knew Santa, the Easter Bunny and the Tooth Fairy were not real but that my karma train certainly was. After all, I had caught slight glimpses of others fortunate , and sometimes unfortunate, trips on the magic train.
Time has passed now and as life moves on my friends and family still remind me that karma is a bitch. I imagine her to be a fairy like, feather boa wearing, big haired, cigarette smoking chick with a martini in one hand and her magic karma wand in the other. When my family and friends bring up karma still I smile and nod and agree, he'll get his, I'll get mine. I love them for loving me enough to try and slip me the karma roofie.
The day I discovered that my ex-husband actually married the "other woman" on the same weekend as OUR wedding anniversary I learned something very important about myself and how far I've come...
I don't need karma. In fact karma can take her magical retribution list of who gets theirs and when and how and fold it twenty ways into an origami swan and shove it up her ass. I am done putting my faith, my power, my hopes, my dreams and most of all my happiness in the hands of a false God. MY happiness is mine to harness and control. I am done worshiping at the alter of karma. Karma is a false God. Karma can kiss my I-am-woman-can-you-fucking-hear-me-roar-now ass. The second verse of my life will not be the same as the first.
My message for those who have been through a similar time, a time when you feel like you'll never get up again, you'll never believe in yourself again or you'll never be whole again is simple. Only you can make your karma happen. It's not something you can sit back and pray for, wait for, wish for or dream for. It's not a mythical magical equalizer the universe gifts to you and that will come because you're so deserving of. If you spend your life praying for that sassy saucy karma bitch to deliver to the other person what they have coming to them you just may miss out on the opportunity to claim for yourself what's coming to you. The good you deserve.
As women we need to love ourselves more, stand up for what we want and tell karma to suck it. I'm not handing over my fate to her, and you shouldn't either. Karma is not a God to which you should pray, a train you should wait for someone else to board for your benefit or a bitchy magical fairy you should give away your wishes to. You are the one in charge.
And yes, you read that right earlier... he married her on the same weekend as our wedding anniversary. There's only one bitch in this lesson. It's not karma and it's not me....
