My divorce was not pretty. No, pretty isn’t the right word. My divorce wasn’t even a mediocre looking-something-or-other. It was a tornado of emotional turmoil that I often struggle to put into words. It’s the same, way too common, story…husband has some sort of existential crisis, finds some new lady to fill that void, and leaves his wife. What made my divorce extra difficult was not the legal and financial aspect, but emotional. After my husband split, a huge gray cloud of depression fell over my head and followed me everywhere I went. No matter what I did, I couldn’t escape. Because of that, I chose to cut contact with my ex except for brief emails about paperwork. I did this for 8 months, and after 8 months we had to see each other for the first time at our court hearing. When I got our summons for court my body flooded with anxiety. My feet started tapping and my stomach twisted into knots as I stared at the date and floor number of the courthouse. How was I supposed to face him?
My two worries was that I was either going to break down, cry, and drive my car into a lake next or say something hurtful, sassy, but honestly hilarious (insert mistress joke here). My logic told me I didn’t want to do either, so I worked like crazy to make sure I didn’t. I rehearsed our interaction in my head and then decided to make my divorce week the most kick ass week I could.
I first took some time off from work and traveled home to see the family. I had a lot of time to be with my biggest support system and get spoiled by my mom. I then went back to my home aka sexy single girl apartment with sexy cats.
The day before the court date I went to a custom jewelry shop and had some of the diamonds taken out of my ring and made into a pendant. This was a very exciting process. I didn’t want a sketchy pawn-star to rip off my expensive band of diamonds, so I chose to create something that will always remind me of this hardship and how you can pull anything apart and make it into something beautiful and new.
Divorce day! The court process went smoothly. He said 3 words to me and I was bubbly and polite and even talked weather with the court officer. I didn’t cry or make any angry ex-wife comments. Pretty much, I kicked ass and took names. I then walked a few blocks and got my divorce tattoo.
The quote is from one of my favorite songs by my favorite band, “Bright Lights” by Placebo. It says “A Heart That Hurts, Is A Heart That Works.” That has resonated with me for a long time, but even more now. I often get stuck in why this divorce hurt so much, and why eight months later it still hurts. But really, it’s supposed to hurt, and if it didn’t hurt, that might be more worrisome.
The day after divorce day. I had a party…a straight up glitter stiletto, way too many shots, and delicious divorce cake party. It was phenomenal. I invited so many people, expecting 2 or 3 to show up. But so many people came out of the woodworks to support and party with me. Besides the congratulatory air of the party, the highlight was the cake. I stole a few aspects of other divorce cakes I found on the web and created this masterpiece. No only was it delicious, but just about every bartender and other tavern-goers came to take a picture of it.
For eight months I feared my divorce week. I imagined a week of emotional crisis, and to be honest, it might have been that kind of week if I didn’t plan such meaningful and fun events with the best group of people I’ve ever known. I suppose when life gives you lemons, get a tattoo and eat chocolate cake.