Welcome back, Miss M!

I got a divorce yesterday. And I'm fine. Oddly fine.

My ex and I got along fine, even managing to live under the same roof for two years after we separated (and before I moved out of state). I knew it was the right thing to do. Hell, I'm in a fantastic relationship with someone who supports me and is the right person for me. I couldn't wait for it to happen! I figured this would be the easy part. No sweat whatsoever.

But I had seen what happened to my Mother when her divorce was finalized. She and my father had been separated for the better part of 8 years (with a few attempts at reconciliation thrown in). She was wrecked, even though it wasn't particularly a surprise. I've never really seen someone get through the divorce unscathed. I was worried.

There was a part of me that felt like I'd failed. I never wanted to be a divorcee. I wondered if I'd tried hard enough to fix it. The thing is, it wasn't worth fixing. At the end, it wasn't making either of us happy, and I've accepted that fact. The folly was in getting married in the first place, not in how we handled the end. We managed to remain friends (until his girlfriend became uncomfortable with it), and we're still civil. I've forgiven him for what he did to me, and I've moved on with my life. I'm a far better person now than I was before.

OK, good. No guilt from the decision. But would I feel a sudden emptiness, or melancholy? I just didn't want to deal with that kind of downer. I wanted to truly be over it like I believed myself to be. I knew in my head, heart, and soul that it was over. I knew for absolute certainty that I am in a better place, and I am happier than I've ever been before. But there's always that stupid, irrational grief that comes with the death of anything. Isn't there?

Turns out, the answer is no. I received the message from the ex at 9:46am that it was done. He had, in his grubby little paws, the signed divorce decree with the official shiny gold seal of truth. It was really done. No hitches, no problems; easy peasy done. I sat there and waited. Nothing. No somersault in my gut, no emptiness, not even a frown. In fact, I felt lighter and less tense than I'd felt in years. I had to test this further, though. I first calculated how long it had been from beginning to end. 8 years, 7 months, 11 days (in reality, it had lasted less than five and a half years). I then brought up the wedding song on YouTube. At the beginning of the end, it had made me cry. As time went on, it made me angry. This time, nothing at all. Not even the smallest pang of meh crossed my stomach. Nothing. In fact, I found myself thinking about J, the man in my life now (who is the right person for me, and the love of my life).

And then it dawned on me: I'm free. Free from doubt. Free from the guilt. Free from the sadness. Free from the pain. Just Free.

Yesterday, I woke up for the last time as Mrs. E. This morning, I woke up as Miss M. I woke up to the man I love kissing me and telling me he loves me. I woke up free to live my life with no tethers to the past. I make decisions strictly for the good of who I am now, and for the good of my future.

There was no fear, no sadness, no looking back. I only look forward now, to being who I want to be and living life the way I should have from the beginning.

This is the first day of the rest of my life.