Excuse me.

I was sitting at work, processing a payroll, when my body and heart decided it was time to process another piece of the divorce. I had a memory of us looking at a space we considered renting. We weren't even doing well then, but we were sustaining and I was hopeful and he was comfortable. Seemingly out of nowhere, I was quietly weeping at my desk. Thank god for tall cubical walls - which is one of the grossest things I've ever said, by the way.

I am familiar with grief, and I know this is how it works; it still catches me by surprise when it happens. Even if it was the best possible outcome, I am broken hearted over the end of my marriage - how could I not be? When I promised forever, I was pretty sure I meant it, and I certainly meant to do my best. My best wasn't enough. Not by a long shot.

When I accepted that truth, I got angry. I had so much rage over my impotence and my helplessness. I yelled, shut down, talked shit, consumed my own soul with the unfairness of it all. My anger wasn't enough, either.

I am grieving my best effort. I am grieving my righteous anger and what it did to me. I am grieving the years lost - the ones I spent, and the ones I imagined that are no longer possible. I am grieving the man I loved.

Leaving my marriage was the right choice for both of us, and I have been healthier and happier since doing it. I am still incredibly sad that I was so ineffective in my judgement and in my struggle to keep it together. It's a bit of a paradox. It isn't my fault that I was treated poorly and given second place to an addiction. It is good that I am out. And yet, I am blue that I could not nurture the relationship to the point of survival. That's the nature of codependent relationships. I know it, but I still feel.

The nature of grief is to back off long enough for you to take a step forward before it hits you with another wave, and knocks you off your tentatively placed feet. The good news for us all is that the waves become fewer and farther between. I can take more steps between waves, and I can become stronger while I walk.

I still need these waves to remind me of the depth of this event. It is in my nature to brush off emotional pain and laugh at it, but I believe in feeling grief while it's here. I've been having a lovely time, and (much to my ego's delight) I've been getting a weird amount of attention. It is tempting to move quickly into a situation where I can give and receive affection again and yeah, get laid (it's been... a while). The grief helps keep that impulse in check, and in a way, I'm a little grateful.

I want to open my heart again, but I know it isn't time. For now, I'll pick up my feet and let it pass over me. I will right myself when the water calms.