About Me: Part Two - That Light? Yeah, That’s a Train…

I don’t have the best luck. Because of this, I am not interested in gambling or playing the lottery. I don’t even bother looking for four-leaf clovers, either. I have always known that ”Lady Luck” and I don’t always get along. However, over the past few years, I realized just how “unlucky” I am. 

Although, if I’m honest, it’s not fair to blame my story solely on the lovely, slim, and shapely shoulders of “Lady Luck.” I am loathed to admit that I, myself, MIGHT have had a teensy-weensy bit to do with the troubles in my life. 

In my post, “About Me: Part One—How I Got Here,” I told a small part of my story. Really, only the beginning, where I broke my ankle in three places the first time. (Yep, you heard me correctly; this was only the first time.). In a lot of ways, my shattered ankle was a metaphor for my life, or perhaps more accurately, an ominous forewarning of all that was to come. 

Here’s what I mean: after I healed from my ankle surgery, my family and I finally got settled in our “forever” home; it was the summer of 2019. That first summer felt like magic to me. Maybe it was my wholehearted commitment to denial; however, I was sure I had healed physically and emotionally. We had pool parties every weekend, and I felt happier than I had felt in a long time. I thought my funk was gone. Little did I know that the bright, warm light I attributed to the sun was, in actuality, a train heading straight for me.

I have overused the phrase “Denial ‘ain’t just a river” in the past, and I fear I’m heading again in that direction, so I’ll apologize now. However, in this blog, I promised the honest and ugly truth rather than a glossier version designed for social media. Unfortunately, the phrase actually does bear repeating. I was firmly planted in my own grandly designed bubble of denial. Convinced everything was all sunshine and rainbows and that I was right where I needed to be, I didn’t see really anything as out of character. I had convinced myself that life was not a fairy tale. I was not married to Prince Charming, nor was I the lead actress in one of my favorite Romcoms. It is expected always to feel like you’re pushing a rock uphill; that’s just how life works. 

It is normal always to feel like you are in the backseat of the struggle bus; that’s life, baby. 

Suck it up, buttercup!

I acknowledge that I did not marry “Harry Helpful,” and okay…fine, I was deemed the family’s control freak and resident “Ice Queen”; it comes with the territory. I had accepted that I had to do everything by myself, and that also meant I had to admit when I couldn’t do it all myself, especially not with 60-hour work weeks, often including travel.

Partnership in marriage is more “in theory” than an actual “thing”…right?

My friends and family held periodic, informal interventions. They worriedly shared that I wasn’t acting like myself and encouraged me to open up and share. Even my managers and team at work noticed I was “off”, for lack of a better term. I thought they were all wrong, and I dismissed their shared insights and trepidation as nonsense. Life was normal, in my opinion. 

After all, no one knows me better than I do… right? Hmmm…Maybe not so much.

Sometimes, we can hide things even from ourselves, and “denial ain’t just a river!” I was convinced that all the negativity was behind me. I had normalized my self-loathing and depression that my life didn’t turn out like I had hoped.  

And other times, I would think, 

“Look at my life. I had everything I ever wanted. I had been married for thirteen years, and my marriage is now under cruise control. 

We had just purchased the home that I planned to turn into my perfect forever home. 

I had a great job working for my mentor for the last fifteen years and had AMAZING work friends.  I was even on a couple of leadership boards where my ideas were coming to fruition. I was making good money and doing something that made me proud. 

And, of course, my beautiful, amazing, and funny daughter, G-Money. I could clearly see my future relationship with G was going to be amazing! So there were bumps in the road; that is totally normal, right? Life was as good as it was going to get.”

“Remember, fairytales aren’t reality.”

I convinced myself that our marriage was typical. My husband and I were acquaintances, but not much more.  No partnership, no sparks, no connection. And that was okay; that was entirely normal for a thirteen-year-old marriage.  Never mind that when reminiscing about the beginnings of our courtship and marriage, I realized I had never felt a spark. That’s okay; butterflies don’t really exist, except in Hallmark movies. Besides, it really didn’t matter because I had stood before God and our friends and family and promised to love him forever, and then we were married. Realizing I made a mistake wasn’t an option, But then I never would have expected what would happen next. 

G’s birthday was right around the corner, and our summer fun was coming to an end in more ways than one. That September, I was preparing for G’s birthday party and a visit from my parents, all while working full-time and keeping up with our household chores and responsibilities. (I believed marriage isn’t really a partnership, remember?). It was a lot, and I was clearly overwhelmed. 

In addition, I realized that we had spent a lot of money getting the pool summer ready, and all the entertaining after the pool was perfect. While trying to figure out how to balance our budget for the 11 millionth time, my husband and I fought, and he began “accidentally” falling asleep all night in the basement. This was typical when things got tough; I was always the one powering through. My husband could be found hiding in the basement; when he wasn’t sleeping, he would be busy blaming me for everything that had gone wrong.

I rolled my eyes and moved on; after all, what choice did I have?  We both couldn’t hide our heads in the sand. So, I pushed through like I always did and resolved our financial issues. At one point, I got tired of the silence and determined to end this rift, and I sent my husband a text stating that I loved him. I hoped to open a dialogue and resolve this drama. The response I received was the absolute last thing I expected. While in a meeting with my management team, I looked down to read the text response from my husband. “I do not love you anymore” filled the screen. I couldn’t read the rest as a blur of tears sheltered it. I do recall the text read something about wanting a divorce.

My husband, of thirteen years, had just told me that he doesn’t love me and wants a divorce… through a text!

I quickly made excuses and left my meeting, stunned into silence. I could never imagine this happening; I must have misread the text. 

Nope, I had not; my marriage is over.

I did NOT see that coming.

For those of you who’ve read “About Me: Part One—How I Got Here,” I’m guessing you’re starting to see a pattern here. 

In the final installment, “About Me: Part Three—Laughter Through Tears,” I’ll show you what I’m doing to improve my situation and how it can help you, too!