You really don’t know a person until his or her life is in upheaval. Really, I suppose the shitstorms of life reveal a lot about yourself too. I know the last year of my life has been one of great discovery for me. I’ve learned a lot about myself and I’ve learned a lot about people I love and have loved.
I have found out that some of the best friends in the world can be found in the most unlikely of places, and can be borne out of the most shady of circumstances. I have also learned that some people claiming to be “best friends” will tuck-tail and run when the water gets a little deep.
I got divorced this year. In fact, the final papers came in the mail last week. Everyone said that it would be good to finally get some closure; but I’m finding that closure isn’t something that can’t be delivered in the mail.
I know that there are some people watching this blog like a hawk to see if I have updated it. For some reason juicy gossip surrounding my divorce is precious to a few people. If you came here to get my side of the divorce story, you’ve come to the wrong place. I won’t talk about why I left my marriage, or what was whose fault in any of it. I will say this, a lot of case building has been going on in the last year and I refuse to participate. If you want my story, be my friend. If you haven’t asked, I assume you either don’t care, won’t believe me, or have made the decision to be my friend no longer. In any case I’m fine with it.
In re-reading that last paragraph, it would seem that there is some anger, or at least some resentment, in its tone. There really is not. I suppose that’s why I am writing this particular blog.
The obvious question is why did I stop writing? My answer to this: I was getting divorced. There is very little a man wants to talk about publicly while in the middle of what is the most painful time in his life. Words said in the heat of the thing would have either been tainted by grief, started a fight, or used against me in mediation; probably all the above. No one ever accused me of being the smartest man alive, but I know I’m not the dumbest. Publishing my thoughts, especially pertaining to the divorce would have been at best foolish and at worse libel. In a year full of flame, heartbreak, shame, guilt and grief, drama from my personal website was something I simply did not need.
I have posted three entries, not including this one, since the day I left in July of 2008. The first, They Live…, was about people in the airport. It was written in a hotel lobby in Atlanta after a long day and much gin. Humbly and sadly, it may have been the finest writing I have ever done, and since it was written I have received much feedback on the entry. I wrote it because I suddenly realized that everyone who walks has a story, and I could see that though my life was “falling apart at the seams” others had lived though it and made it to the other side. It was a small flicker of hope in the darkest hour of my life.
The second entry made was a story about my dad and me eating breakfast in Calgary. They say laughter is the best medicine and that may have been the first uncontrived gut-laugh I’d had in a month.
The last was written about a week or so after I left therapy. I had returned to my life with some new found knowledge and some tools to get me though my days. Then I hit a wall. My life had become unmanageable (despite the purchase of a day planner that now rests under my bed in Phoenix). That story about my dad’s cabin always gives me hope.
Will I start writing regularly again? Perhaps; but not likely in the prolificity of former times. There are volumes of things that I would love to write down, many records I’d love to set straight and misconceptions I would love to quash, but that would amount to nothing more than the yammering of a weenie trying to defend himself. You wouldn’t read it and I don’t really need to defend myself.
I don’t know if this means that I’m “back” or not. It simply means I’m not dead. I’m alive and well, and I’ve found a great deal of peace. I’m happy to write again.
