Divorce is Like a Death

Those first few months after he left are a blur. I was devastated beyond belief. Unable to concentrate, sleep or eat. I had always joked that I could eat for any reason... happy, sad, depressed, celebratory, the reason didn't matter. But I was wrong. There was no food in the world that appealed to me. I lost twenty pounds that first month. My friend Annie would call me several times a day..."eat half an English muffin"...." have some cheese"...."are you drinking water?" My son came to stay with me. He and his girlfriend cooked Christmas dinner and he took me out to eat. My daughter did the food shopping.

I walked around in a daze. I wouldn't have left the house or my bed except for the fact that my sister had a stroke and I went to Yale New Haven Hospital every day for the six weeks she was there. I was her next of kin and had to make medical decisions regarding her treatment. I felt like a zombie, surreal, like I was outside looking in at some pathetic woman. I had always been a strong person but I was afraid I would not survive. I had counted on Dave for love, support and guidance almost my whole life. I knew my family, friends and coworkers were worried but I couldn't seem to snap out of my despair. Even more frightening to me, I didn't WANT to snap out of it. I was wallowing in self-pity but I didn't care. I cried constantly and uncontrollably.

I checked our credit cards and bank account obsessively. Everyday I found evidence of his affair. Buying her jewelry, taking her to "our" restaurants and movie theaters. Finally I was informed by one of the doctors I traveled with on medical missions that he was taking her on a mission to Africa. He had been gone less than 2 weeks, still claiming to be thinking of coming home. I was stunned and humiliated. I knew everyone on that team. Even though I knew it was more of a reflection of her character than mine,I couldn't face anyone. Eventually  I had to take a leave of absence from my job.

I called the therapist we had seen as a couple and started individual therapy. She told me divorce is like a death and follows the stages of grieving. But it is NOT like a death. Death would have been preferable. His, not mine. Death is final but this was torture. I was getting hurt by new revelations every day but I couldn't stop looking at the scene of the accident.

Apparently this is almost a universal reaction to divorce. In the back of my mind it was comforting to know I wasn't losing my mind. Although when I refer to that period of time I always preface it with "that's when I was crazy."

I am happy to say the cliche "time heals all wounds" is true. My depression has lifted due to time , family, friends and therapy.  I will never be the trusting person I was in the past but I will survive.

I knew it would hurt you....

June 23, 2012

If anyone says " I knew it would hurt you if you found out but I did it anyway" that's the time to call it quits.

Three years ago, as my mother lay dying, Dave was busy calling his lesbian friend, Anita, several times a day. Sometimes several times an hour. When I confronted her she said, " I'm gay Lucille. In a committed relationship. You don't have to worry about me. We're just friends."
I couldn't believe Dave would deliberately hurt me. But here he was admitting that he knowingly did something that would devastate me. Why did I put up with that sort of treatment?

We were a family. People make mistakes. I wanted to forgive him. I was hurt beyond belief especially by the cavalier  remarks he made about my mom while she was dying. My mother had given us so much... the down payment on our house, car loans and gifts. Mostly she gave of her time, taking care of our children while I worked, cooking us meals and cleaning the house. In thirty year his mother gave us a gas grill and came to visit us expecting to be entertained. I couldn't believe he was making light of her death to a complete stranger.

In retrospect I should have told him to leave then. But I truly wanted our marriage to work. I didn't want to break up our family or hurt our children. I didn't want them to come from a "broken home" no matter what their age. He always said he wanted the same thing. And I loved him. We had a bond that couldn't be broken or so I thought.  But he was secretly building a life away from me. When he had someone to run to so he wouldn't "be alone" he accused me of all sorts of shortcomings. I didn't say "I love you " enough, I picked out wallpaper he didn't like, I worried too much about the kids, etc. Things I didn't even remember. It's funny how much was wrong with me that he didn't reveal for thirty years until he met the wh_ _ _. I can't bring myself to call her Anita. I probably will refer to her as the big W.

So my first important bit of advice ladies is do the bills!!  He wouldn't have been able to wine and dine her if I knew where the money was going. I trusted him implicitly, never questioning anything. Signing papers without reading them. BIG MISTAKE. Although others friends have told me it is  possible to do the finances and still be fooled I know I would have had a better handle on our situation if I had been controlling the money. Don't be so trusting. Even if you don't directly pay the bills always look over the finances.

One last thought for today. If he can look you in the eyes and tell you he doesn't care how much you are hurting, if he can knowingly stick a knife in your heart, RUN. I wish I had.

My journey past divorce

My divorce is final today. Just one month short of my 31st wedding anniversary. I bet you thought from the title this would be funny. Maybe filled with recipes. Some of it is funny but much of it is heart wrenching. I think a lot of it will be helpful to other women going through an unwanted divorce at age 55.

My husband left me for a lesbian. Excuse me, I meant to say "former lesbian". There, that's funny, isn't it? It was two days after Thanksgiving ( my favorite holiday ). We had been going to couples counseling for seven months because Dave was "unhappy" in our marriage. He choose to inform me of this in our driveway as we were leaving for Easter weekend in Manhattan. You can see he has a thing for holidays. Although he claimed "it was a long time coming" I was completely taken aback. He insisted there was no one else. "I'm just not happy." And I believed him! This IS starting to sound humorous.

Anyway he agreed to commit 100% to therapy. I thought things were going well. Until of course the day before his birthday in July (see what I mean about special occasions?) He told me he was going to Home Depot. He called to tell me he wasn't coming home. We were planning to go out that night to celebrate his birthday and the fact that our daughter had received her nursing license that week. I begged him to come home. I didn't want to tell my daughter that he had left. I desperately wanted to spare her the pain of rejection that I knew she would feel. That I was feeling. He hung up the phone and didn't answer or come home for four days. I believed him when he said he was in Fire Island with gay friends form work. Staying at their house and walking the beach, "thinking about us."

This same drama happened several times that summer. Each time I believed he needed "time alone." How naive. We continued therapy. He insisted there was "no other woman." I finally found a credit card statement with proof of his infidelity. While I was gone on a medical mission to Columbia he took his lover to see Rent on Broadway. Rent was one of my favorite plays. We had seen the original many times together. He also took her to a restaurant we had been to several times. The week I came back he met with her in a motel in Long Island where she lives and works. He eventually admitted to many motel trysts, most of them while I was at work. I thought that was the lowest they would stoop but I was wrong. There were many more levels of pain for me to experience.

So today, instead of planning something special for my anniversary I left Superior Court a divorcee. Not a word I would ever have thought I would use in reference to myself in a million years. I hope some of my experiences can help others who are coping with the same indescribable pain.
Not a word I would ever have thought I would use in reference to myself in a million years. I hope some of my experiences can help others who are coping with the same indescribable pain.