End of a Cowgirl Dream?

I wake up each day trying to grasp what’s happening. So far, I can’t. 

This past weekend, my husband told me he’s filing for divorce. Did I see that coming? No. He’d said something was not right in our marriage about a month ago, but we talked and I thought we were working things out. I thought he WANTED to work things out. 

He’d been cold and distant lately, I thought it was the stress of the economy and work. I learned that it was his way of shutting me out of his heart. He was thinking about our marriage and working things out in his mind for the past six months or so. He said he’s been trying. But he’s been trying alone, without me knowing what’s happening.

I still don’t grasp it. There’s a loss of connection, he says. Nothing wrong with me. He’s not angry with me. He says it would be easier if he were. He has an idea of what a relationship should be like, what it would feel like, and he doesn’t have that thing with me.

I had such plans for this summer. I’ve had thyroid problems that medication has just recently helped resolve. I was pulling out of the grief over losing my Dad. I finally had some energy. I was starting to write again, with this blog, and a book I had planned.

And my husband and I just recently did a big remodel on the whole first floor of our house. We picked out new kitchen countertops, wood floors, and colors to paint all the walls. I just finally have gotten almost everything put back in place – hung pictures back up, moved furniture back, put books back on the shelves, arranged lamps and knick knacks.

After the lengthy chaos of the remodel and dealing with the fear that spending the money on it was a mistake with how things were at work, I was just beginning to enjoy the new look, the feel of the place. I’ve been walking around the house admiring the rich colors and textures. I love the new look of my office, with all the reds I put into it. 

I was looking forward to entertaining this summer. I was looking forward to having friends and family over, some who have never been to my home, to show them how the remodel turned out.

I wanted this to be a place where people felt welcome. I bought a book on making bread. I had this image of always having coffee and fresh bread available. Maybe cookies too. I had plans and dreams…

And now? I have no idea. I have two horses, a dog, a cat, and one goldfish. It’s not just finding a home for me. It’s finding a home for them. It’s losing a truck to haul the horse trailer. And that goal I wrote about, learning to be an expert at driving the horse trailer so I could take myself trail riding whenever I wanted? Not happening. 

The garden I was going to plant this summer and all the tomatoes I was finally going to learn how to can? Not happening.

I am losing a man that I love so much it hurts. I can’t imagine life without him. He’s been my friend, my lover, and my helpmate. He understands my sense of humor. He’s made me laugh and comforted me through many of my losses. I thought we were building a life together.

I think about when he proposed to me. How he stopped near the place we first kissed – a stoplight in a little town. He came to my side of the vehicle and on bended knee proposed. I thought it was so romantic. I was so happy. I’ve been so happy.

Besides losing my husband, I am losing my home. The place that I have felt safe, at peace, happy, and so fortunate. When we moved into this place, I kept looking around in disbelief. The land we are on is so beautiful, so perfect – the trees, a creek, a pond, some rolling hills, a huge deck to sit out on and watch the horses play.  When we first moved into the place, I told my husband I would never move again, that he’d have to bury me out in the pasture.

In the back of my mind, I knew I’d probably have to move again, perhaps when I was 70 and could no longer keep up with things. When that happened, I thought we would move to a townhouse or something like that. Maybe have a winter home somewhere warmer. That we would travel. And golf, something my husband started to teach me last summer, that I took up so we had something we could do together, and with our friends.

So much loss. My Mom in September 2007; my dog, Willow, in August 2008 (people who’ve lost dogs know that’s no trifle); my Dad in November 2008, and now my husband and home. Not to mention losing an Aunt and Uncle in the past month. And I’ve been through divorce before and never wanted to go through it again.

People say to give it time. I need to get over the shock first. Right now, I can’t fathom a new home. I can’t fathom a different life. I don’t know how I’ll bear not being with this man that I love. Yet, I’m told by friends and family that I will bear it. Somehow.

I read Psalms a lot lately. Such as, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me? Why are you so far from saving me, so far from the words of my groaning?” Psalm 22:1

I try to have faith and not be fearful. “The Lord is my rock, my fortress and my deliverer; my God is my rock, in whom I take refuge. He is my shield and the horn of my salvation, my stronghold.” Psalm 18:2

It may sound bad, but I try to be angry rather than depressed. I’ve heard that depression is anger turned inward and I agree.

And I try to see the humor in a humorless situation because laughter is what has gotten me through loss and hard times before. But nothing like this. I have never suffered a loss this great.

Maybe it’s not the end of a cowgirl dream, just this particular cowgirl dream. I feel too old to create a new one. I don’t know where I’ll summon the energy or desire from. I can’t even imagine living anywhere else, being with anyone else. I don’t want anything else. Really, really, don’t want anything else. 

But it’s early. Maybe. I can’t see it now. But maybe. 

And I’m not quite sure what this blog will be about for awhile. I don’t want to go on and on about my divorce and sorrow. Not very entertaining. Maybe it will help me live with some sort of normalcy if I plan on continuing to write about my dog and horses. So, hopefully, future posts will not be this long drawn out monologue without even one photo. 

I’ll try and I’ll keep trying, and I know some of your blogs will keep inspiring me.

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  1. I am so sorry. I am at a loss for words, never experiencing anything like this personally. But can only imagine your pain and fears. You will be in my prayers my friend.

  2. ::hugs for you:: I am so sorry to hear this. Write whatever you need to, whatever helps you here, and we’ll be glad to read. My thoughts are with you.

  3. You’re in my prayers Mary. Please know that where ever you land, whatever you do, you will always be beautiful…you will always be you.
    Your Bud, Lynn

  4. Mary I can’t tell you the sorrow I feel for you. Lynn is right on – you are a beautiful woman inside and out who has been stretching, growing and attaining! I was touched at your ability to articulate your feelings in writing – keep it up! I can’t imagine your pain but I know the one who will walk with you through this. Know I am praying for comfort for you – coming from many places throughout this journey – and that your mental, emotional and spiritual health will not be negatively affected. You WILL get through this. Let yourself feel the feelings and don’t feel guilty about your anger – it’s healthy! In fact, let me at him – I’m pissed off too!! Terri

  5. Oh Mary, I am so terribly terribly sorry…I am speechless at the loss you have faced and are facing. You are clearly a strong, amazing woman and I have nothing but faith that you will get through this, but I am sure that knowledge does not touch the pain you are feeling right now.

    I hope you can keep your dream alive and make it a better dream in the long run.

    I am sending you a humongous hug and will be thinking about you so much. Please keep writing…you have made many new friends through your blog and your writing is beautiful. Those new friends offer support, understanding, laughter, and a lot of encouragement.

    Thinking of you and hoping that your critters, especially sweet Java, can help your heart heal one moment at a time.

    Sigh….I hope somehow this will lead to something even more wonderful for you in the long run. I am so sorry…

  6. Mary…I don’t know you yet, but what you have written has a lot to say about your character. Your dog and horses will help you get through this…along with your friends. Finding a new home when you have animals is not easy…but I have a feeling you will figure this out. Don’t give up on your cowgirl dream…one day at a time.

  7. Thank you all for your compassion and all the kind things you said. Your words help me face the days ahead. Even though I haven’t met many of you face to face, it helps to know people care. I cannot thank you enough.

  8. This is the first time I have visited your blog, I am so sorry about what you are going through! I am in tears reading this. Please know that you are in my thoughts and prayers even though I don’t “know” you yet!

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