In November of 2012, I wrote a blog post called I Have a Pimple. Two thousand and twelve, y’all. That was over three years ago and the pimple was already pretty big by then.
In 2013, I wrote Are You There, God? It’s Me, Linda, which is another post about my pimple where I don’t talk about my pimple in all its glorious and gory detail.
I tried to deal with my pimple by managing my own life better. In 2014, I decided to be more outwardly focused and I joined the board of directors for a non-profit. (If you have buckets of money to donate to charities, call me! Text me!)
I entered into 2015 with a mindset of standing up for myself. Ends up, 2015 was a year of big changes. I quit my job. I remember distinctly the day I put my notice in. I remember because I tweeted this:
I set my life on fire. Hope the winds of change are blowing in the right direction.
— Linda (@LindaInDisguise) April 20, 2015
It was a glorious summer. Everything a summer with no job should be. I will be forever grateful for the summer of 2015.
And then October came and the winds of change blew hard. It took me awhile before I could share openly, but in early December, I made my Emancipation Proclamation and broke the news of my pending divorce.
In other words, that damn pimple exploded all over the mirror of my life.
Divorcing in the age of social media is hard. He and I have agreed to be kind and considerate of each other, so I’ve mostly kept my damn mouth shut. But here I am writing about it. Actually, I’m writing about not writing about it. I know he could easily be reading this, and my children are possibly reading it too – at least the brave and rebellious ones who click the link even against their better judgment – so I won’t be talking about it. I won’t tell you about my pimple. Just that it has popped and now it needs some TLC so it can heal.
But you should know that even if I’m (we’re) not talking about it on social media or on our blogs or at the Thanksgiving dinner table with all our relatives, we are dealing with the mess of this pimple. He is and I am and our children are. We won’t bleed all over you, we’ll just bleed quietly over here where we won’t bother anyone. No, really. Don’t worry about us. Could you hand me that tourniquet, please? Thanks.
Back in 2012, I wrote a post called Strength is a Clever Disguise. We’re being strong. We’re dealing with the mess. We’re healing. But be gentle with us, OK?
Because sometimes what we can’t talk about takes all of our energy.
