Yesterday I signed the Application for Divorce paperwork.
Today the paperwork was delivered to my lawyer.
In two days it will be the anniversary of the day I officially separated from my ex-husband.
In four days the Application for Divorce will be submitted by my lawyer and the process of legally and permanently ending my marriage will begin.
I should be happy. I thought I would be. I want this divorce. I need it. My marriage was miserable and the separation has been almost unbearably awful at times. I’ve longed to reach this point, where I can feel like I am finally actually DOING something to separate myself from a man who has inflicted significant emotional damage over way too many years. I want to be free. I want to start the next stage of my life. I should be happy. And relieved.
But…
When I signed the form, it was all I could do to not throw up. I felt physically ill. I barely held back tears and even thinking about that moment now has brought the tears back again. I’ve felt a dull ache in my chest and fluttering anxious thoughts for days as I’ve completed the paperwork.
Ending a marriage is a serious thing. I was married for more than two decades – it’s a long time to have your life connected to someone else. I have three children. So many memories of my children, my family and my friends are connected with my marriage. Ending the marriage means disconnecting from parts of myself in some ways. There is loss and grief and regret. Signing the paperwork didn’t feel like a release. It felt like an acknowledgement that I’d failed in so many ways; a reminder that my bad decisions had significant consequences for myself and my children.
And it didn’t feel like the milestone I thought it would. I didn’t feel like I was transitioning from the ‘past’ to the ‘future’. Instead, it made me realise that this is just a piece of paper. That the legal process can proceed, but I’ll still have to worry about how his words and behaviour will affect the kids. I’ll still know that no matter what happens, he’ll see himself as the victim. He’s always created his own version of the truth and refused to acknowledge anything that isn’t consistent with that ‘truth’ and that won’t change.
And even though what he thinks, feels and believes is no longer something I need to feel responsible for, our children will always connect us and the way he treats them and speaks to them has an impact on me, especially while I am still responsible for their everyday wellbeing. The divorce application can be submitted, I can wait three months for my hearing, and then one month for the divorce to be finalised. I can redefine my goals, prioritise myself and get on with building the amazing life I deserve, BUT there will always be a part of my life that is connected with the man who made me so unhappy for so long.
I know that time will make a difference. The children will get older and become adults and they will be able to manage their relationship with their father themselves. I’ll only need to have contact with him on very rare occasions. My memories will fade and become more soft focus. My sense of self and wellbeing will be restored. I’ll feel stronger, happier, and less broken. I’ll move away from the lingering shadows of my old life and my new life will dominate my thoughts.
But for now, I’m simply myself, where I am, wishing that signing a piece of paper could really work miracles and close the door on the parts of my old life that leave me feeling so broken and confused and aching. I wish it could absolve me of the guilt I feel for allowing myself to be treated so badly for so long. I wish it could serve as an official statement of truth about who I am and what I’ve experienced. Instead, it’s just a piece of paper that acknowledges a series of dates and logistical details about my marriage and parental responsibilities. It’s a form that will be looked at with disinterest by the various people who process such documents. It is nothing significant.
And the milestone I’ve been counting down to reveals itself to be a mirage.