And the Tears Roll On

“I saw H and his girlfriend at the barbecue.”

“You’re married to H aren’t you? We came here from the C plant together.”

“Didn’t I meet you at H’s class reunion several years ago? Sorry to hear you’re divorced.” (Gosh, I’m sorry to hear that too because we’re actually not divorced yet, although he already refers to me as his ex-wife.)

Since H and I work for the same company, I have a lot of these kinds of exchanges with people I run into at work.

Each time it feels like someone has sliced my jugular open and all my blood has gushed out onto the floor. And I’m beginning to wonder what the actual physical thing is that goes on in my body that makes my legs turn to rubber and the blood rush out of my head. Not that knowing the cause will help me stop it. I’m just curious because it sucks.

I’ve been curled in a ball sobbing and screaming for the last hour, snorting and coughing up huge globs of, oh, never mind. My head is aching, I can’t breath, my eyes are swollen shut and poor Java is scared to death and laying down in the closet.

I’ve been told that the reason I don’t see H going through what I’m going through is that he’s been so unhappy and miserable for so long and he’s already gone through what I am just starting to experience.

Now that makes me feel better. So if I understand this correctly, I made H so miserable until he couldn’t take it anymore and now he is relieved and jubilant because he is finally free of me and found someone else who is a much more wonderful person to be around? In what way can I find comfort in this?

And so I roll around the floor screaming some more because I never wanted to be anything but a source of love and happiness for him.

I imagine someday, if I’m ever in an emotional place where I can date again and if someone ever loves me again and if I ever manage to trust anyone enough again to fall in love, maybe then this stuff won’t hurt anymore. But right now I can’t imagine this magical time when all the planets align just so. Don’t things like that only occur every 175 years?


I was talking to my cousin (who also works at the same company) today about wanting to live on a lake or river somewhere. My cousin said “You’re better off where you live now. You can ride, shoot a gun, whatever you want. Why would you want to live anywhere else?” So I had to tell him about the divorce as it appears word has not gotten around to everyone in my family.

At least I managed to swallow the lump in my throat and not burst into tears the way I usually do every time I make this announcement.

No, I waited until I got into my car.

I’ve been told this is a big deal and I need to grieve. H wasn’t perfect, but I loved him so much, and I thought he loved me in the same way.

And I don’t love or trust people that easily. So when I do, it’s a huge thing to me.


I understand I need to grieve, but the amount and level of grieving going on here feels out of hand and it’s another thing to feel ashamed of and another thing I feel like I’m doing all wrong.

When this divorce is over with, my new name is going to be Maery Katherine Rose. My hope is that I’ll be as lovely as the name. But at this time, I have some doubts.

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  1. Oh Mary, I am so sorry. Some people can be so ignorant and cruel!
    Grieve all you need too. We will all listen. It has so be so hard. Thinking of you!

  2. I’m sorry you are still going through this. It will get easier. You are beautiful inside and out! Things will get better. Just remember we love you and are thinking about you. HUGS!

  3. Mary…I’m sorry you had to go back to that place. You have been doing so well…I guess it is part of the process. No need to feel ashamed. You painted quite a picture of yourself and I can see it now! The photo of your horse is beautiful and so are you…hang on woman.

  4. Mary, this is a horrible thing to go through…and BTW I don’t believe that H did any of this because no body KA-POWED like he did you. You have good friends who really want you to feel better…when you are ready.
    Much love to you.

  5. Mary – your honesty is one of your strengths. Few people are so aware of this searing pain that you are able to identify – and I truly believe that by being so honest, you are making a journey toward wholeness. One agonizing step at a time. Dearest woman – you are not alone. You are NOT alone. Thank you for sharing your heart. We are amazed at the beauty of your soul. Barb

  6. Somehow, I missed this post. I rely on the little sidebar on my blog to tell me when a blog has been updated – and it doesn’t seem to be working right.

    Hang in there. Take solace in your loving animals and nature. You’re strong and you’ll come through this even stronger, at least that’s how it sounds to me.

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