Gratitude

“At some point, sooner or later, you’re going to be tempted to think of this situation as a personal failure. Please reject that idea now, and every time it comes! As you may know, we Presbyterians aren’t big on talking about the devil, but for the record, I’ll say that hopelessness is a feeling that comes straight from hell. It’s something we all face, and the feeling of failure, and the fear of not ever feeling success again, can really break us down.”
-An email from a friend, 12/08

So, it’s not a secret that I got married and subsequently divorced. I don’t hide it from anyone, not because I’m proud of it, but because it happened, and well – it’s my life – I can’t change it or anything.

Six months ago I thought the immense pain I felt would never end. The pain and sadness had been there long before the night I decided to leave, but in those days after, every emotion from the past year came back to me. I was angry and sad, and I felt incredibly empty. I felt like no one could understand what I was going through. I realize now, of course, that there are plenty of people who can relate…and who have been through a lot worse. I realize a lot of things now that I did not before.

Someone asked me the other day how I got through it. The answer? I did what I had to do – I just “kept moving.” I got up and went to work every day, like nothing was wrong at all. When I left, I allowed myself to cry the entire hour drive home if I wanted to. Some mornings I cried on the way to work, but the moment I pulled in the parking lot I pulled myself together. The same was true when I walked into my parents house at night.

Although the routine of my job was a huge help, the biggest aide in keeping me moving were my family and friends. My amazingly supportive family and friends. Without them, their love, their words of encouragement, their jokes, their almost psychotic checking up on me…I’d probably be in a gutter somewhere.

My mom made me keep appointments and other things I’d obligated myself to, my dad made me meet him for lunch on Sundays in our small town, my stepdad insisted that I could, in fact, help clean the house. My friends decided that I would celebrate New Years with them, and forced me to return their calls and gchats. They had girls outings, sent dozens of emails, and made me feel comfortable in any social situation. They hated on Valentine’s Day and told me I was smart/funny/pretty. They were just being nice, but I appreciated it nonetheless.

Sure, I kept moving along, but those people are what kept me going. I certainly didn’t do it on my own. And so, to the people that rushed in and scooped me up off the floor, I say thank you. You brought me back.