This was the post I was never going to write. But sometimes there are things that you just need to say. Because I’ve found so much strength and solace in other people sharing their truth. And maybe sharing this can be that for someone else.
In some instances, divorce happens because of a cataclysmic event. It wasn’t that way for me. The best way I can explain it is with this allegory:
Last week, I brought a box of books from law school into my office. When I took the box out of my car, it felt completely manageable to carry. As I got toward my building, I was feeling less confident. As I walked, I kept bargaining with myself. One step further. You don’t need rest or help. You’ve got this.
And by the time I reached my office, I couldn’t have carried that box one step more. No one added books to it along the way. It was the same box I took out of my car. It was just fatigue. I couldn’t carry it any farther.
But really, the bigger thing I want to say in this post that I was never going to write is what happened when I set the box down and unpacked it, so to speak. It’s amazing how fatigue and frustration can take us away from ourselves. When we allow ourselves to stop carrying the thing we can’t carry anymore, suddenly there is room again to grow, change, feel joy, feel anything other than the weight of that too-heavy box.
Where my life has gone in the last eleven months is nothing short of revolutionary. A 180-degree turn back to this person I used to know and get to discover again.
I know my story isn’t everyone’s. And I offer this without judgment or blame. So much of what was in that too-heavy box was mine to unpack. And certainly “setting down the box” is an oversimplification of the process. But with all these necessary disclaimers in place, I hope this story resonates, clarifies, or just maybe lets me take that last book out of the box and set it on the shelf where it belongs.