This past weekend, I was blessed to witness the exchange of vows between my nephew and his beautiful bride. The ceremony itself was relatively short, but the level of emotion was unsurpassed. While I’m still making my way back to being fully able to “feel”, the atmosphere of that wedding was proof that I’m closer to being my old self than ever. At least in the “feels” department. Their exchange of vows, their quest to face life as a couple and their dedication to each other reminded me that time is of the essence.
Time Keeps on Ticking, Ticking Into the Future
As of today, I’ve been divorced 846 days. That’s 120.8571429 months. That is 2.317808192 years. That is 1,218,240 minutes, which is 73,094,400 seconds. Not one of those time measurements has been spent wishing I was still married to him. Not one of them has been spent regretting the dissolution of that thing. None of them has been spent trying to decide if there would ever be a reunion. Nah, this is not one of those cases of devastation that has me so stunned that I’m only left counting the days since it happened. I didn’t know the exact number of days I had been out of the cage of abuse before I began this post, but to bring my point home, I found out. Every second of every minute since March 5, 2013, has been one that has served me in a constructive manner.
Doing the Happy Dance While Shooting Arrows with the Eyes
I need to back up and clarify a few things. On November 9, 2012, when my ex-husband told me that he wanted a divorce, I wasn’t angry at all that he wanted the marriage to end; I was super, duper pissed off that he chose that day to do it. Unless you’ve been in a situation where you’ve been exuberantly happy and incredibly angry at the same time, you won’t get what I’m saying. I wanted to turn back flips and do a couple of handstands because the inevitable was finally in the works, but I wanted to destroy everything he was because that was my child’s Senior Day and instead of waiting until the following day, my ex-husband decided to throw that thing out there when we should have been at the activities with our son. Will was already emotionally bummed because he had just undergone the reconstruction of his second ACL a week earlier, which meant he would miss the rest of the season, thereby thwarting any chances of a football scholarship. His dad decided that the best time to tell me he wanted a divorce was just before I was heading out the door to pick Will up for the luncheon we were all to attend. When I asked him if he was going to go to the luncheon, the pool party, the presentation and the ball game, he said no.
She’s a Hothead!
It’s no secret that my temper used to be out of control. I lost it when he told me that he wasn’t going. My thought was that regardless of the situation, we both should have sucked it up and showed up. I couldn’t get it together for the events that were scheduled for the afternoon, but I was there for the presentation and the ballgame. He didn’t show for any of it. He stayed at home and cried. I held back my tears until Will and I made it back home that night. When I let go, though, it was like a geyser had disrupted. Again, not one of those tears was for the loss of the marriage – it was time for it to be over – I was devastated because my son had been shorted of what should have been one of the most memorable days of his high school years. I was so angry, in fact, that I didn’t speak to my ex again until early February 2013. I know I speak for every mother out there when I say if you want to experience the most heated exchange, mess with her child. My son and I are on totally different planes right now. Prayer, counseling, time and processing have all assisted in the healing process.
Getting Up After the Fall
During those seconds, minutes, hours, months and years, I’ve stumbled, fallen, gotten up, been pissed, become more humble, dealt with spite, and been knocked down by circumstances, but not one time have I stayed down. I’ve friended and unfriended my ex-husband at least twice since then, blocked him from every corner of my internet sphere. Then I re-added him. Why? Because after a while, the anger quelled. I’ve said it many times before and I’m not afraid to admit it now: my behavior wasn’t always admirable during those 19 years that we were together. True enough, I suffered mental and emotional abuse to the point that I was hospitalized because of a brain hemorrhage, but I fought dirty, back when I cared.
Nowadays, I use my seconds and minutes to help other women find their way out of abusive relationships. I use my time to help women pull through and re-establish in the aftermath. I use my time to grow as a woman. I use my time to love on the people that matter. Unconfronted anger is deadly. It hurts the possessor far more than it will ever hurt the intended victim. I’m also too stubborn to allow someone else to control my emotions and rule my days. My time is too precious.