…until it is.
Because I promise you, divorce was never on my bucket list and yet, somehow, there it is.
Scribbled in thick black, a tiny line scratched across the middle of it.
Taunting me, reminding me that I did that, I chose that, I even wanted that.
That happened; you crossed that one off the list.
I have that t-shirt and
I fear it was hastily tattooed across my forehead… thick black letters.
I married him, because I loved him.
I married him, because we had dreams and goals, and we wanted the same things.
I married him, because I thought we’d spend our entire lives together.
I didn’t say, I will, thinking- someday, I’ll divorce you.
We became different people.
War changes you-
War changed him and
War changed me.
And somehow, we ended up strangers at the end of 7 years. We still wanted the same things, deep down… but we disagreed on how to get there. We’d pushed each other so far that compromise was out of the question.
Divorce became an option the first, third, twelfth time one of us threatened to leave at any sign of trouble. I can’t recall who said it first, but through the years, we’ve both given our fair share of ultimatums.
I was tired of the ultimatums. I was tired of our unwillingness to compromise. I was tired of being drug through the mud, and I was tired of dragging through the mud. I was tired of the begging and pleading and yelling and… something had to stop. Someone had to break the cycle.
The constant push and pull (the daily struggle of responsibility, the issue of intimacy, the lack of communication, the demands of the Army, the things we saw and heard and went through because of the Army, the strain on our families because we lived overseas) killed our relationship. We backed ourselves into a corner, and it felt it feels like the only way out was that dreaded word- divorce.
I can’t change him.
He can’t change me.
We are who we are because of what we’ve been through…
And we’ve been through war…
And when you’ve been through war, the things that weren’t even option before, suddenly become the opportunity you never knew you needed…
I’ve been a long time reader of your blog – like years – while we were both living in Germany. I read this yesterday and didn’t comment because I didn’t know HOW. How does a stranger reach out and tell you they are sorry. How does a stranger tell you that there are much deeper casualties in war than physical and emotional wounds? How do I say that this is not the only story like this I’ve heard and it’s not all your fault or his fault. I don’t know how but I want you to know that someone, who you don’t know, cares for your story and is deeply sorry that this is now a part of it. And no matter what comes in your story next, this military life, our life, will always be a part of it.
Oh, the pain and sorrow life brings! Not just to the ones who might, in some way, deserve it, but, also, precious people like you, who, have tried, and failed. Not by your own doings, but, by statistics, war, separation from your family, loneliness, and, yes, even fear. Even though I can tell how strong and determined you are, I still know you’re not infallible. Just, take baby steps, try to make good decisions for all affected by “life in general”. Good luck to you and your precious family…
Sandra,
I feel like you’ve shown up on my front lawn without permission; I feel like you’re trespassing. I know my blog is public, I know strangers read and comment, and I understand that by having a blog and posting parts of my life on the internet, I’ve made myself vulnerable to an extent. But when you throw very personal things about me out into the black hole of the internet, parts of my life that I’ve chosen not to air out here, I feel like I’m allowed to draw a line. I keep those parts tucked in close and it’s territory I will never explore here in this space. I’d never stand in the very public streets of my hometown with signs detailing all those things that happened when I was very young. I won’t do it here, and I certainly won’t allow others to do it here either.
I feel as though you’ve overstepped your bounds. My whole life, I knew where you were. I was always told that all I had to do was ask to see you and it could happen. I never asked. And over the years, I realized he was in and out of trouble- I realized that I truly just don’t have room in my life for someone who refuses to change.
If you wanted to contact me, you should have used that email address listed over there to the right. You should have emailed me and explained who you were and you should have told me what you want from contacting me. You should have given me a chance to think about your requests, that you were asking something of me.
But you didn’t… Sandra, you came back several times over the past 2 months, here and on Facebook. You said things that hurt me and you robbed me of choices. You took my choice to reach out away from me. I don’t want it back, even if there was a way you could take all these comments and poems back… I don’t want it back. I just want you to know you should have waited. Or, you should have contacted me in private. All those years ago, when you and others decided that the court ordered visitation policy wasn’t enough for you, that you wanted all or, what? Nothing. You chose not to see me again…. You walked away and you told me I wasn’t good enough for part of your time. You told me I wasn’t worth it.
I grew up happy. I grew up healthy. And I learned to make my own decisions and form my own opinions. I’m a good judge of character and I love my children with every fiber of my being. I know God and I love a rainy day and I’ve traveled a tiny bit of the world. I work hard and I love harder. And when I fight? Well, I fight hardest. I know at the end of the road, I’ll look back on this life of mine and be proud. All of those things were and are possible, because of the decisions my parents made for me when I was too young to make any decisions for myself.
I’ve struggled with your comments and the emotions they brought forward. I’ve contemplated closing my blog, moving on to an anonymous url where no one knows the real life me… But here’s the thing… I’m not willing to give this space up, because it’s every bit a part of me. I’ve watched amazing things happen in this online world over the years. I can’t let go of this space, and I shouldn’t have to.
I’m writing you, here, publicly- because it’s how you’ve chosen to reach out to me. You may have a glimpse into my life and you may feel connected to me- but you aren’t. You see, you’re looking for a two way street, and you aren’t going to find it here. I do not want to get to know you… I refuse to let communication go any further than this right here… I’ll meet you here- on my virtual front lawn, with green grass under my feet… I’ll give you that. But, this? This is as far as I go… I want you to know that I appreciate any prayers you’ve sent my way over the years. But I also want you to know that I do not want any contact from you. Please feel free to continue reading in this very public space- consider it people watching, if you will- but know that any and all comments posted here by you will be deleted.
Please know that I’m happy, that my life is full to the brim and overflowing, like a pool on a hot summer day.
Sincerely,
Sidnie
i love you, but i’ll never contact you or read any of your writings again. bye, bye, baby
I don’t know you, you don’t know me, but with all my heart, I send you LOVE, PEACE, and the support of sooooooo many people who have followed you, been amazed by you, and wish you and your family nothing but the best, now and for and always!
Much love from Ohioooooooooo,
Valerie
Sid, I’m in awe of the strength and determination you possess. I admire you for the decisions you make, not so much for the decisions themselves but for the ownership you take in them knowing the road will not be easy. I love you dearly and will always be here for you. Remember everything in life happens for a reason.
Love you, girl.
And when you’ve been through war, the things that weren’t even option before, suddenly become the opportunity you never knew you needed…
I love the way you write.
My heart aches with understanding.
If my arms could reach across the land between us?
I’d hug you while we both cried.
Sidnie,
I don’t know if you remember me, but we emailed a couple of times back in Baumholder. I, too, am now beginning the process of a divorce.
I have been reading your blog on and off for years; I am sure I missed this as I have been enveloped in my own drama 🙁
You will be in my thoughts and prayers as will your children.
Katie Jones
Katie,
I do remember you.
Divorce takes so much from you, and it hurts… But it also gives a lot back to you too, and in time, you’ll heal.
Thinking about you as you find the strength to take care of yourself. Email me any time. Find me on facebook if you’d like.
Prayers and Love.
XOXO.
I needed to read this this week. Going on 3 years since it was final and it still hurts. I call it my roller coaster of emotions that come with the dreaded world of divorce.