Liminal spaces
Today is day 37. This is a count down from day forty, which took place, you clever genius you, three days ago. Three days ago was a fucking hard day. This was the day when “We” turned to “Me.”
I wish someone would have explained to me almost 33 years ago that “til death do us part” didn’t just mean a physical death. Sometimes it is the death of a marriage.
My marriage has died.
This has opened up a whole new world of disorientation, grief and WTFs.
Things didn’t just blow up one day. It was more like the slowly then suddenly kind of event. We both knew our marriage was in trouble several years ago but lacked the resources to access competent counseling. (Fun fact: There’s a lot of bad counseling and theology out that only make things worse.)
So, we hobbled on, trying to navigate the relationship between our 50-something versions of ourselves…something quite different from the 20-something version.
By the time we crawled into marriage therapy (and individual), our marriage was already on life support. Many months later, the hiss of the respirator was the only thing making sounds-words fell into silence. Discussions ceased.
I decided to pull the plug. (God, what an awful saying.) I was hoping there might be some moments where a sunbeam would peak through a curtain and shine down upon the pasty face of death and an amazed nurse would cry, “Doctor! There’s a pulse!” But that sort of shit only happens in Disney movies.
There is no acrimony between us. And here’s another mind fuck...on some level, we still love each other. But that love will be reframed into a new relationship. We still both love our kids-fiercely. The therapist actually got teary when she told us how much she admired our love for the kids. She was pregnant at the time so it deeply touched her heart.
We both want happiness for one another. So, we start on a new path. As individuals. The We to Me.
My dear friend, a practicing Orthodox Christian, recommended a 40-day period of grief. It felt like a good idea for me. A sacred time to hurt and heal. A liminal space between what was and what will be. To cry and drink too much wine.
I’m not expecting the grief to be gone on day 41. This is the sort of event that shapes your heart. And ultimately, your life.
Today is Day 37.
