We Look So Perfect. Look Again
We all responded in bizarre ways, but mine was a hit list of lasts.
The minute I decided I was getting a divorce I started planning the long list of 'lasts'.
The last family portrait. The last ski trip. The last time we would stay in the beach house with our friends. The last time we would watch our kids start the school year together with the traditional silly family pose holding some intellectual book that none of us had read.
I was planning for the end as though I was going to die.
I know it's ridiculous, but at the time it felt like time was running out. We smiled in front of others and scowled at each other in private. We lied to ourselves that the kids didn't know, but they did. They were relieved when we said Daddy was moving out. Some wanted to go with him so he wouldn't be alone, one kid piped up that he could have the family portrait so he wouldn't forget us,
We all responded in bizarre ways, but mine was a hit list of lasts. Neat little memories so that I could look back and say I tried and failed and wrapped it up in a picture frame. I am not ashamed the marriage didn't work, but I am ashamed our children are now shuttled back and forth between us. We are decent to each other, we even laugh about how we should have done it sooner, but inside I am sad and deeply disturbed that I didn't see how little I invested in us or myself once the kids were born.
First born, first birthday, first day at school, first tooth, first word.
I have hoarded memories and bound them into photo albums and now it feels like I had an unhealthy obsession to prove that we once had something. My ex thinks I am too hard on myself, whilst my therapist is trying to get to the source of my anxiety (ies).
The thing is this; that picture may have been our last one together posing as a happy family, but I hope the kids will see it as a memory of the love we have for them. Maybe I am a curator of the memories and moments with my children.
We all experience divorce differently. Share your story with me, anonymously. Someone will read it and feel less isolated, less alone. Please email me here