No one wants to confess to feeling lonely. It sounds so needy and weak, but there it is, hitting me in the middle of the night.
Reaching out to fill the loneliness is somewhat hard to do when it’s 3am and no one else is awake. Son #1 has already stumbled in after working until 2am at his part-time job. He’s down for the count and sawing Zzzzzz’s while I lie away listening to the house creak and settle. Is that a normal noise or will it result in a new repair bill? Hmmm…. Breathe in deep. The weather is cold outside, under 32 degrees. The house is most likely contracting due to the chilly nighttime temps. I’ve lost count of how many times the furnace has kicked on, then off, then on again to keep us all warm and toasty.
I don’t want to get out of bed and go downstairs. That’s too much like throwing in the towel and admitting defeat. My bed is warm. Sleep still eludes me after 20 minutes… 30 minutes… an hour of fruitlessly closing my eyes, clearing my mind, and exhaling.
I guess that’s why they made tablets. My portable computer currently sits on the pile of books covering my nightstand. I’ve read all of the books. Time to browse the web.
Most of what I stumble across on the interweb seems so trivial. How to decorate a bedroom like a pro, 20 things I need to do to be a successful woman, another chicken recipe, someone’s photo of a bug, the burning question, “will the word ‘interweb‘ get added to Webster’s Dictionary or just remain a simple way to separate the tech savvy from the commoners”… None of these “worthy of typing” pieces interests me for very long, not even National Geographic’s question, “Are We Alone?”. I just can’t connect to the “issues” of the masses. Not because I’m snobbish… more because I’m embroiled in relationship uncertainty. I try to relate, but I just wonder if the people complaining about their shabby houses realize how lucky they are to have a roof over their heads. Many divorced moms are like me, staring at the ceiling thinking about the “what-ifs” and wondering how to hold it all together with limited funds and a (very real) possibility of losing a much-needed source of income… The endings of marriages, the impact on children, the surviving… Those are the types of things I can delve into right now.
It’s weirdly comforting to know that smart, sane, kind people have gone through horrible divorces, cheating scandals and massive relationship anxiety. Not in a misery-loves-company way, but in an inspirational they-came-out-the-other-side-and-so-will-I sort of way.
When Josiah took a teaching job at a Midwestern college, Isabel and their sons moved with him from New York City to Ohio, where Isabel taught acting, threw herself into the college community, and delighted in the less-scheduled lives of toddlers raised away from the city. But within a few months, the marriage was over. The life Isabel had made crumbled. “Happens every day,” said a friend. ~ from IsabelGillies.com
I first picked this book up years after my first divorce was finalized, but the similarities were too real. I cried my way through every page. I’m sure Husband #2 wondered if there was something emotionally wrong with me, like maybe I wasn’t over Husband #1 yet…
Quite contrary, I cried because I remembered the pain AND realized how far I had come from the woman who was also left after moving to a different state for her husband’s career.
I cried because that former me didn’t realize how much she would grow because of Divorce #1.
And because she’s still growing.