I’ve been silent for a while. Why? Because I’ve been going through something that’s been quite painful, and it’s where my heart and pen is. I have not been able to blog personally. More than a month ago, my wife and I separated. It’s my reality, and one that’s been quite painful as of late.
It would be easy to write a post about the issues, but in the end they are irrelevant. And that’s not the kind of man I am. Regardless of our outcome, I still love her and would not do such a thing.
In that vein, the comments are turned off on this post, the first time I’ve done that in the more than 1000 posts I’ve written. I don’t want to have a conversation about this particular post, nor would it be right.
Instead, I am writing about what it feels like. Because it’s what I do. I write. And maybe this post is part of my personal healing process.
Taboo
What is relevant is the loss, the failure, the grieving, etc. Our society often treats this time as taboo. Even those who have been through it identify, commiserate, yet at the same time speak in hushed tones. As a result, it kind of feels like a scarlet letter of shame.
The scarlet letter does not seem right to me. What comes to mind is Joan Didion’s fabulous book, “The Year of Magical Thinking.” In that book, Dideon writes about the experience of losing her husband to a heart attack and the surreal emotional journey such an event takes you on. What a fantastic, yet heart wrending accounting of what is also traditionally a taboo discussion.
I cannot imagine what Joan Dideon went through, but I can understand why separation and divorce are taboo. Is it right? No, but understandable, yes.
Such an event — especially after you have invested six years into a relationship, more than three of it in the marriage phase — represents the destruction of a dream. That dream is one that we embarked on together, one that many people embark on together. And while one third of these dreams end this way, no one wants to really hear about it.
They have good reason. It’s the most painful thing I’ve ever been through.
Distressing
Some things in life are painful. My personal experiences:
Nothing has been as painful as this. There have been times where the pain was so great I literally felt like someone had scalped me, tingling needle-like pain throughout my head. For the first ten days my physical coordination completely left me, and I would walk into things or drop items in my hand.
Some men cry, others do not. I do, but never like this. Usually I cry maybe three or four times a year. Emotionally, my tears have been much quicker to rise to the fore this year as the situation evolved. During the few weeks after we parted I literally weeped everyday, and still find tears in my eyes most days.
Sleep and appetite go to the wayside. I’ve lost a great deal of weight this year, but in the past month it’s been insane, I think to the tune of 12 lbs. In total, I’ve lost 51 lbs since last April.
But that’s not as bad as the mental and emotional vacancy. I literally checked out the first week and could barely work. While my brain seems to have come back, I find I’m in an emotional winter. I cannot invest much into other people right now, not because I don’t want to, but because the well is dry. There is nothing to give, and no $700 billion bailout to fix things.
It’s barren here.
Moving Through It
Depression seems like an obvious word. But the only way out is to continue walking forward. Time heals all wounds, yet one common theme amongst those who have been through this process is that you never get over it. You are just able to move on.
Inevitably you have to look at your actions, your side of the street so that in seven more years you are not in the same place. That process is in action, and it has been quite relieving in some ways.
Working out has been a fantastic source of renewal, and pain relief. Losing weight for this reason seems fair. Between that and work itself there has not been much time to think during the week.
Then there are personal endeavors to keep the soul alive. Saturdays are booked, first with painting class. This Saturday I start community service in the afternoons.
It seems these activities and, most importantly, time are working. I feel somewhat better week after week. But only now am I eating three meals a day again, mostly out of necessity. And yes, a couple of 8 hour nights have reappeared.
It’s apparent that this is a long-term process. Whenever it ends and I wake up finding my soul somewhere else in a better place, I will be grateful. For no matter what, this experience has given me great insights. And I know those insights can benefit someone else. I don’t see it as taboo. I see it as simply the road I have walked, the one many have walked or will walk.
Perhaps my most important message to the person who may be going through this is that though winter may be upon your heart, hope exists. It can and in my case has gotten better, albeit slowly. So trudge this painful road and know that somewhere along the way you — and your spouse — can find peace. Though your paths have diverged, more than ever be kind now, for she/he is going through the very same thing you are… or worse.