It's Not You. Probably. But yes it is. Whatever.

 I watched a video  by Mel Robbins. I get what she’s putting down most of the time. Today especially she spoke to me. She said someone in the world needs to hear what I have to say. And maybe give someone else who’s gone through my experience a bit of a boost too. 

Ok Mel, if you say so! Here it is! 

(and if you don’t need it, move along, it’s all good) 

I think most people that I associate and hang around, especially in my own town, have similar life path experiences. You go to school. You work. You get married. You have kids. At some point you probably bought a house and settled into what you assume is “your life” with the family unit you created. 

That’s what I thought I was doing.  I felt pretty secure in my foundation. I loved my family and everything it represented and portrayed. The stability of support, a predictive timeline, those next anticipated steps. Albeit, I was focused on the more inane life decisions that seemed so important, like my daughters passion for horseback riding, or what mountain would we get passes at for ski season?  Does this Patagonia jacket make my kid look like an asshole or am I helping them fit in? You know? That kind of stuff. It was important to me. So were my friends. I commiserated with them about kids and husbands. Had girls nights, book club, pto meetings, trips, laughter filled hangs with other parents on the sidelines. Yadda yadda. 

I was ALL of the cliche’ middle-class minivan driving soccer mom things. And I liked it. A lot.

So.. Here’s the thing about divorce. No woman with two kids, an active social life, and a friggin’ MINIVAN expects it. Not a one. It comes as a shock. Always. No matter what the circumstances, situation, or spouse. A woman in this scenario identifies almost solely by her family, work, and social activities. It doesn’t matter what kind of writing, if any,  was on the wall right in front of them.  It is traumatic and soul crushing to watch the very thing you based your entire self-worth upon crumble and shatter. Leaving in the wake not only the broken pieces of yourself, but your kids too. Not to mention your finances, your actual home, your partner. “Your Life.” 

I was numb. And scared. I didn’t know what the fuck I was going to do…I needed to regroup and redefine EVERYTHING. Money. House. Parenting. Job.  I never signed up for this ride alone. All at once everything changed. I needed a new job. I needed babysitters. I needed my friends. 

And those friends were there at the start. A large collective swoop. I did not expect to have to regroup and redefine them. Not after that shit show all went down!

The Divorced Moms know what’s coming…

Slowly and surely the Minivan Mom squad faded away. I don’t recall the first time it was really perceptible.  Perhaps a going away party for a friend that I got to witness via social media, or a happenstance siting of the old crew hanging out at the lake and knowing I was no longer an automatic include. An awareness dawned over me that with the lack of The (Insert Family Name),  I was no longer really included as I once was before.  A few stuck with me. But even then not on the same social level. 

It hurts. Salt on the wound, Y’all. One, because as explained before, I’d already felt so much trauma and loss in ever aspect of my life in such a short time. I began to self-doubt. 

To wonder if whatever it was about me that made my marriage, my family, my home, my entire life disintegrate, was also causing these “friends” to turn away. 

IS that what everyone thinks about me? Not just friends, but family too. 

What I thought were accepted silly jovial antics, I now felt shame over. Did they think I had this coming? Was my personal character now assassinated by this crew?  Was I mocked with every cat or dumb joke I posted on Facebook?

FYI- These feelings of insecurity don’t help either when interpreting what once might have been an innocent oversight or coincidence. I had once felt critical of these types of women. I lacked understanding and the appropriate empathy.  And now I am one. 

My bad, ladies! These shoes suck to walk a mile in! 

Sounds paranoid. I know it does. And pathetic. I completely agree. And a lot of people who might read this will roll their eyes. Think this is some passive aggressive pity rant. And maybe it IS me.  But paranoid I am not.  Because I can absolutely guaran-damn-tee that every middle aged divorce’ suburban Mom knows EXACTLY what I’m talking about.

I don’t LIKE feeling like this. I cannot control the actions of others, but I can control my own feelings of self-worth. And I have good friends. They know and value me, and not the Christmas Card perception.

I also know the most horrible part is how it affects your kids too. Which makes you feel like even more of a social pariah than you already were. That just sucks. I can’t philosophize that one away. My kids weren’t perfect before and they most certainly have a few more dents now, but it’s not their fault. So don’t be shitty like that, people. Get your heads out of your ass. These kids have had a crappy run lately, throw em a bone. 

So if you have felt like I described, I am sorry. I understand. I believe you. It’s not just you. 

I really don’t think its intentional 99% of the time. 

People just shy away from discomfort. And divorce is HELLA UNCOMFORTABLE. Keep on keeping on. You still rock that minivan. 

Ps- I hope you all remarry super hot amazing partners and become bajillionaires. I’m halfway there and feel better already.