I knew my marriage was over way before I moved out with a suitcase full of my clothes. In fact, that suitcase had been sitting in the corner of my room for weeks – taunting me, begging me to make a decision. As it stared at me from the corner of my bed every night, I could almost hear it say “either put me back or take me out. I hate this limbo”.
I had mentally and emotionally checked out of my marriage – for weeks, months, and on some level for years – prior to actually leaving.
The stars finally aligned and I finally decided to save my suitcase (and myself) from the purgatory we were both in. There was a last straw: a last excuse and I finally left.
I found my light the minute I walked out. I recognized myself in the mirror immediately. Divorce is often bitter, painful, expensive af, and tears people apart. But I had no kids, no financial ties, no love, and worst of all no trust. I had nothing to lose!
Except a couple of very close friends, no one really knew how miserable I was. Everyone knew I wasn’t happy, but no one knew the extent of my unhappiness and how deep the roots of my pain and insecurities ran.
Along with my light, I found my voice. I started talking. Sharing. Over-sharing. Writing. I still tell my story to anyone that listens (obviously…). Years of silence has made me anxious about shutting up. I didn’t want to burden people with my truth. I didn’t want my family to worry about me. I didn’t want the pressure to chose to either stay or leave. I didn’t want to be judged, and I thought I was alone the entire time. Until I wasn’t. Until everyone I talked to knew exactly how I felt. Until my loneliness became an illusion that I had constructed for myself. There is great comfort in having your feelings and experiences understood and validated by others.
As I talk, share, over-share, purge, vomit out the words, my mind is constantly trying to make sense of the world around me: love, dating, relationships, marriage, and happily ever afters.
I’ve learned that love is overrated and overused and vague and often confused with lust. I’ve learned that love is a chemical reaction and it’s hard to define beyond that. I’ve learned that love has different meanings to different people. But most of all I’ve learned that love has an expiration date.
My discipline and inspiration comes from pop-culture, books, conversations, coffee breaks and lunch breaks, memes, shows and the everyday life. A play I recently watched dissected the concept of love on stage (it was cruel, ugly and selfish inside) – and instead focused on trust. I think trust is more powerful than love. I think trust can be felt and measured. I think trust is what we should all be searching for. I think love is easily tainted by memories and places and words and smells and text messages.
Ironically, I’ve also learned to dis-trust myself. I’ve learned to second-guess my emotions. I’ve learned to look passed the chemical reactions in my brain. I’m unlearning, deconstructing, breaking down ideologies and theories, and all of this is freaking exhausting.
I’m trying to apply my formulas to the dating App world – I’m trying to understand why we can’t connect. What is the missing piece? It can’t simply be the shitload of other fish in the sea. It can’t just be the fear of missing out.
Let’s forget about the four letter “L” word for a while. Let’s begin with something a little more safe. Let’s start with comfort. Let’s take away the pressure. Let’s just start to trust each other instead. Let’s talk more, communicate more. Let’s be less flaky as people – let’s just start with honesty. And maybe, just maybe we’ll have a better chance at this whole thing…
The Married Girl On Bumble 