The cat is now out of the bag.
I no longer need to keep mum. I no longer need to call attorneys and divorce coaches from “burner” numbers. I no longer need to rush to move chess pieces stealthily into place.
I can now be authentic, and authentic is a wonderful and comfortable thing to be.
Just 24 hours ago, I noticed that I was actually breathing hard. Not fast, just deeply, as though trying to steady myself. Because I was.
The adrenaline surges coursed through at random at the mere thought of approaching him. Complete with the heart-pounding, the stressed breathing, and a near-total loss of appetite.
I had no idea how he would react, and even all the videos on psychopathy that I could get my hands on didn’t narrow the possibilities down. It could go any one of a number of ways. Some of those ways held serious implications for me.
Luckily, that didn’t happen.
We started off talking shop about the business, to alleviate some recent stress he’d been feeling. After he’d vented sufficiently, I gently steered the conversation in the direction of astrology (because, you know, we’re unapologetically into that), outlining the major themes in the upcoming year for each of us, some of which are beginning to hit now.
From there I segued into The Divorce Conversation. It helps that I had typed up everything I wanted to say beforehand, and that he couldn’t tell, because we sit fairly far away from each other on the couch. It also helps that my parents and Amazing Bestie all met at my ex-turned-spirit-sibling’s apartment three buildings away, an assembled backup team ready to rush to my aid if needed. It also helps that I had dialed my spirit sibling’s phone and just left the line open as we talked, while he put me on speaker phone on his end, so that they all could listen to the conversation unfold.
There’s a lot to figure out. I’m not sure who’s going to move, although it will probably be me. I’m not sure who will get the fur-kids, although, tearfully for me, it will probably be him. The business will almost definitely dissolve.
The end of an era.
Thankfully, my worst fears about the conversation never came to pass. He remained calm, and even almost kind. Wistful. Accepting. He agreed with pretty much everything I had to say; the feelings seemed almost mutual. He made the interesting statement that our marriage is like a movie on DVD that ended long ago, but nobody had moved to eject it. His overall response was everything you dream of in a conversation like that. It couldn’t have gone better.
The whole conversation lasted about an hour and a half, which is considered short and sweet by our standards. Many of our convos have lasted four times as long, but sometimes less is more.
I went for a walk then, through the courtyard of the apartment complex, and over to my spirit-sibling’s place, where my loved ones were all waiting. Boa constrictor hugs and group hugs followed, along with (my) tears of…I’m not sure, probably a potpourri. Sadness, fear, relief – although I’m not sure in which order.
We schmoozed for a while, even sharing some laughs. Then my parents left, and it was just “us kids”.
It didn’t take long for the wine to come out (lol).
This morning, the Morning After, the sun still rose. I still woke up (within the usual time range, even–before daylight). The fur-kids still watched their birds, completely unaware of what’s coming, the details of which I don’t even know yet. The world still moved. Life went on.
And it will continue to go on.
At 43 years old, I’m starting almost all over again. “Almost”, because although by surface metrics I’m probably coming out of this ordeal much like I’d gone into it (with my maiden name and a sweet tabby girl cat), I’m not the same. I’m nearly 22 years wiser, more experienced, and more self-aware. I have more degrees, more memories now. I have several health conditions now that either I didn’t have or didn’t know I had before. I have fabulous loved ones I hadn’t had before.
Right now, I’m okay, mainly because there’s nothing else to be. Or maybe it’s because I’m deciding to be. Or perhaps I’m simply telling myself that I am, whether I really am or not. Either way, I’m sure that that will change periodically, temporarily. There’s so much to figure out. There will be pain involved, I know. And probably lots of it.
If I really am okay, it’s only because I have loved ones, near and far, to lean on for support. And I have indeed been doing my fair share of leaning.
But anyway, the important point is, right now, at least I believe that I’m okay.
And maybe, right now, that is enough. ❤