Standing at the crossroads
Once upon a time, a young man met a girl. He was young; she was younger. They became friends. Some time later, they became lovers. Two years later, they were married.
They lived happily together for five years. They decided the time was right to have a child, and so she became pregnant. The young woman loved being pregnant, cherishing that time as something that might not come around again. When the baby was born, though, she foundered. The depression of her younger years plagued her once again.
The child grew and seemed to thrive. But when he was about three, it was clear that something was not quite right: he was not quite as other children were. The man and woman, now Mama and Papa, strove to know what was right to do and to do it.
The family moved, but they couldn’t leave their troubles behind. The little boy grew, and went to school. Life became harder and more anxious for him, and his Mama and Papa fought and struggled and at times cried bitter tears. For a time, they separated and lived apart.
They came together again, though, and moved again, seeking support and peace. The woman fought back her depression over and over. The child visited doctors, psychiatrists, and therapists, seeking help. The man worked hard to keep his little family afloat, fighting to love his life.
One day, late in the afternoon, after sixteen years together, the woman told her man that she believed that they should separate once again. She moved away. Now she lives in a small apartment across town. She is slowly moving her things out of their home, and he is slowly making their home, his home. Their son, who perhaps is not the child they ordered but is the child they love, struggles to adapt.
Â
Rob and I separated almost a month ago. I’ve not written about this on the blog because I’ve been unsure about how to write about it without seeming maudlin, or bitter, or self-pitying, or blaming–because I’m not really any of those things, and then again, at times I’m all of those things.
I do know that I’m more at peace, more myself, than I’ve been in a long while. Harvey has suffered a setback because of our separation, and I feel a certain amount of guilt about that. But I also feel that my access to joy, if not joy itself yet, has returned.Â
These days I’m memorizing this poem, and if my road is still full of fallen branches and stones, I can sense those stars burning overhead.
March 8th, 2007 at 12:07 am
Beatifully written. I hope you begin to find your joy again, both in the little moments scattered here and there, and in the big shining ones that sweep you up and leave you breathless.
March 8th, 2007 at 12:19 am
Thinking of you and knowing, in part, how it is you are feeling. Thanks for your honesty, and thank you for that lovely poem.
March 8th, 2007 at 3:19 am
Those are some mighty tough decisions that you’ve had to make lately. Hang in there.
March 8th, 2007 at 9:38 am
Sarah, this is a brave post. Life is very complex and messy; it’s impossible to make everything come out the way you would most want it too. Instead, we just do the best we can, make the best decisions we can based on what we know to be true at the time. I know you always try to do that, no matter how hard the decision is.
I am glad to know that you are feeling more at peace.
March 8th, 2007 at 11:06 am
Thanks, Sarah, for sharing your story. I’m sorry you’ve had to make so many difficult decisions, but I’m glad that you’re staring to find peace.
March 8th, 2007 at 12:04 pm
Sarah: I feel for you and know what you’re going through. In the end, the only one you can save is yourself. So true! I think women try to structure their loved ones’ lifes to be “happy” at terrible cost to their own lives. After years, you don’t even know who you are. I read a quote from somewhere (sorry, can’t remember) “Who were you before you put yourself last?” And even when you have children that break your heart, you have to realize you can only really be responsible for yourself.
March 8th, 2007 at 12:46 pm
Almost exactly 25 years ago my parents divorced because they just didn’t belong together anymore. But since then all of us have gone on to build better lives than we could have ever imagined at the time. Good for you for having the courage to take another path!
March 8th, 2007 at 2:41 pm
The poem was lovely, and you wrote beautifully about your life. I know first-hand how difficult the decision is to break up a family. But, in the end, all the right decisions seem to get made. Good luck and long life!
March 8th, 2007 at 6:25 pm
Sorry about your sorrows, and I hope things are looking up. These things are so hard…on everyone. Brave girl for making your own way.
March 9th, 2007 at 5:47 pm
Having made this same decision over 30 years ago, and having spent the last 20 years as a paralegal in family law, I know how hard it is to make that decision. No one comes to it easily or through it unscathed. But everyone I know (including myself, family members, friends, clients, and the children of all of us) are better for it. Here’s what I tell my clients, “If it’s the end, then it’s ok; if it’s not ok, then it’s not the end.”
March 10th, 2007 at 12:39 am
Please know that I completely understand and that we all feel special that you shared your news with us. I walked away from my first marriage after 10 months of drunken abuse, and I never have any regret in my decision. Bunny hugs to you on this new pathway of life.
=:8
March 10th, 2007 at 1:13 pm
I feel your pain. I ended up divorced with 3 special needs children that my former husband and I had adopted, The children’s special needs was the final straw. It was many rough years by myself, and the troubles are not over yet. 2 of my son’s live independently and the the third suffers from mental illness. He has tired suicide too many times to count. I know how hard it is to have the school call you and what a bad day can mean. My prayers are with you. My knitting has been my saving grace- it has sat through many ER visists and ICU waiting areas. I will keep you in my prayers.
teresa
March 10th, 2007 at 1:34 pm
That took great courage. Many people walk alongside of you in our hearts.
March 18th, 2007 at 9:30 am
::hugs:: So hard to write this kind of post; good for you for having the guts to share, Sarah. May you have all the support you need, and all your family. It’s a truism, but so many people seem to forget it – if you don’t take care of yourself, you can’t take care of anyone else. Good luck to you all.