|redfirecracker (redfirecracker) wrote,|
@ 2011-11-07 12:23:00
|Current music:||"Sister Goldenhair" - America|
|Entry tags:||divorce, friends, life, wtf|
LIFE AFTER DIVORCE.
I've found myself thinking a lot about Kristin lately, probably because it's been about two years now since she divorced me, and let me tell you, just because you're hetero lifemates doesn't mean it can't be just as real and miserable and agonizing as any other terminated relationship.
I don't think a day has gone by in these last two years when she hasn't crossed my mind at least once, even if it's just to think, I can't believe she's not around any more. We were part of each other's lives for twenty-five years, with all the history of growing up together and going to school together and shared holidays with our families.
For the first few weeks, I didn't think I'd ever breathe again.
And then, weirdly, suddenly I felt like I hadn't been breathing at all for a long time, and now I finally could.
That's when I realized that this divorce had been coming for a while, a couple of years at least, and maybe I was just too stupid to see it. I knew there was emotional and physical distance between us, but I had been the one who moved, and so I thought it was me who had to try harder. It never occurred to me that maybe there were bigger problems and she was just using the move as an excuse to push me away.
Now, suddenly, I didn't have to make myself call her and be secretly glad that I got her voicemail. I didn't have to dread any more that she would call me on her way home from court at some point and I'd have to cut her short after an hour because it was it was 3pm and I'd already taken my lunch break, having waited for her as long as I could, then have to hear that tone when she said, "Oh, of course. You're at work," like I should somehow have known exactly when she planned to call. Especially when, in the same conversation, she'd probably already have told me about the three calls she made before she got to me: the three calls that could have waited, and then I could've talked during my break and it wouldn't have been a big deal.
I didn't have to hold my Friday nights in abeyance for her, just in case she decided that she felt like following through on what used to be our traditional night of the week to get together. I didn't have to worry about saying something politically incorrect in front of her pretentious law school friends, or of violating some kind of behavior that she'd later insist she told me about when she had, naturally, done no such thing.
And most importantly, I didn't have to worry any more about why she divorced me in the first place.
Yeah, she never told me.
I got six weeks of the silent treatment before she deigned to pick up the phone one night. Then she screamed at me about how awful I'd been and how embarrassed I made her, and I basically had no idea what she was talking about, but went into automatic crisis mode anyway.
See, I learned something a long time ago with Kristin: her competitive drive overpowers EVERYTHING. Then she went to law school and got four years of training in how to win at all costs, and I just never felt that I could keep up in an argument.
I mean, really, think about it. I could argue with her until I was blue in the face, and whether I was right or not, she would STILL end up backing me into a corner and forcing me to say I was wrong. So then what? Apologize? Grovel? Whatever. Why not, I figured at some point, just skip the HOURS OF UNENDING TORMENT and go straight to the said groveling apologies? Made more sense and was certainly better time management, I thought. So for the last ten years, I stopped arguing with her when she got angry with me for any reason, just backed right down and, like a guy who doesn't understand why his girlfriend is mad but knows he'd better buy flowers and chocolate anyway, I just started apologizing until she got over whatever her snit might have been at the time.
Looking back, this may not have been the wisest method of dealing with things.
And yet, despite still feeling somewhat melancholy about the whole thing, I still can't help but to feel almost . . . glad?
I wonder if other people who have gone through divorces feel the same way.
I'm sure she feels she had valid reasons to be angry with me. I'm sure she even thinks that she made those reasons clear to me. And I know that it takes two people to ruin a relationship, whether it be a marriage or friendship or life-partnership like I thought we had. I'm not easy to love, but neither was she.
And sometimes, I still miss her.