Truth be told, I haven’t had a good night’s sleep since March 3rd, 1999. that’ s some long-term insomnia!
That was the day that Husband #1 told me he didn’t love me and never did. We in the divorce world call that the Bomb Date. It’s the day when your significant other, the person you were supposed to be with forever, drops a bomb into your life and leaves you bleeding in the rubble.
I’ll admit that my point of view is somewhat skewed. I’ve been the one left behind both times. I’m kind of the believe-in-miracles type who has faith in the nature of change. Sometimes I come off sounding like a victim of my circumstance but that is not my intention. My intention is to describe in detail how it felt to have my heart broken. I’m just taking a guess that 50% of you reading this blog have been left behind.
There are no gold stars given out for Leavers or Stayers. It just is what it is.
In the early days of Divorce #1, I couldn’t sleep. My mind was going in a million different directions and I was terrified. Husband #1 moved us out of one state and into another state 400 miles away. We had a new house with a new mortgage and the boxes weren’t even unpacked. He moved out and I was completely dependent on a man who didn’t want me. With no job and no friends, I was puttering around in a house that was strange. These were not the memories I planned on making in my new home.
The funny thing is that I had no problems falling asleep. I was exhausted from crying all day. Closing my eyes was all it took for me to drift off to La-La Land. But then, with only 30 minutes of sleep, my eyes would pop open and my mind was on high alert. I would roam the rooms of this strange new house for hours, checking on my child and trolling the internet for ways to get my husband back.
Even after finding Husband #2, that restlessness stayed with me. I would wake up at night and listen to his breathing. I’d poke him in the side to roll him over when he started to snore. On some nights I’d even curse his name in the dark recesses of my mind because he could sleep a solid eight hours and I couldn’t.
Now that Husband #2 is out of the house, I’m still having a hard time sleeping but my pattern has changed. I’m reading self-improvement books until 12am and my eyes open at 5am when the birds start to sing outside of my window. Getting 5 hours of sleep a night doesn’t bother me. I’m learning to appreciate the extra time I’ve been given to work on myself and enjoy the sounds of birdsongs as my alarm clock.
Thank you, Mr. Wren, for singing to me today. I’m happy you’ve shared your voice with me.