The very long answer to the question I was asked today about my divorce…

So tonight I’ve decided that instead of sitting here with my cat trying not to drink the last of the wine in my fridge, I will write! This isn’t the standard type of blog post you would find from me, I’m sorry, but chimera and fancy seems to have deserted me tonight…

You see I signed my divorce papers today, and it wasn’t fun. I suppose it’s supposed to be a party, maybe to normal people, it would be. Maybe a different person would have walked out of that office with a smile on their face and the wind ruffling their hair as they proudly and strongly made their way toward the new life they fought so hard for.

I certainly have been asked why I am not jumping for joy.

For me it’s slightly different. For me, someone who thinks too much, someone who finds meaning in everything, someone who is loathe to believe that paper with words is just a piece of paper, it’s different. Those seven pieces of paper are not just pieces of paper with two signatures on the bottom. They symbolise the end of a very long battle, a battle that is impossible to emerge from unscathed.

They are the culmination of nights screaming in heart wrenching agony for hours in a row, of nights huddled with my children trying to convince them that what was happening was a good thing and of nights looking around an almost empty flat and realising how loud silence can actually sound.

They signify a pain that cut so deep that at times I would lie for a whole day on my living room floor, unable to eat, or care if I didn’t eat. They signify a fifty five kilo body on a seventy kilo frame. They signify the guilt that my heart still carries for the fact that my children now have to say they come from a broken home.

They give reason as to why my greatest support network lies so far away from me… 2500km away in fact, in the very house where my entire world existed before I met my husband and moved here to be with him.

They give reason to why I am sitting here alone tonight, in a house that’s so quiet I’m afraid to turn on the TV in case I scare the things hiding in the corners, the give reason to the new whites in my hair and the furrow in my brow that seems to now be a permanent part of my countenance no matter how happy I am or how much I laugh.

These papers are proof that things don’t always turn out like you planned, things don’t last forever and that no matter how hard you dream something, it doesn’t make it true.

So that’s why I’m not jumping for joy. Holding these papers, makes all of that flow throw me again, like they are yesterdays emotions. Knowing that all that pain, and all that fear, all those heart breaking phone calls, and terrible nights have all existed to create this document. One that I am approving with my signature, as if to say, “thankyou Universe, you gave me exactly what I needed.”

It’s just a few pages after all, and a signature, a few moments sitting in an office where this kind of thing happens every day, to everyone else… I know that, and tomorrow will be better. But for now, I need to just be calm. I need to just cry for a moment and let the universe know that I have learnt something from it.


~ by Alissa Anderton on August 19, 2013.

One Response to “The very long answer to the question I was asked today about my divorce…”

  1. This is so true, so very true.

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