JustLinda’s blog is on hiatus.
Most of the posts from the last 10 years are just in a private status for now. A few of them are still here for your reading pleasure, or if you have insomnia or whatever.
I Don’t Want to Talk About It (an essay of 445 words)
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.
Emancipation Proclamation
I’m getting divorced.
That’s kind of hard to say out loud. We’ve told family and friends and now I’m trying to get comfortable forming the words to others. Trying to settle into this reality. So, yeah. Divorce.
I’ve spent countless hours with it, twisting and turning all the whats and whys in my mind. I haven’t slept very well for many weeks and often prowl the house cleaning things in the wee hours of the night. My house has never been so clean.
I have the mind of an analyst in that I need to poke and prod something until I understand it, so I’ve been poking and prodding my life quite a lot lately. You see, this is my 2nd divorce. I feel like I should have to walk the earth with one of those big pointy hats. DUNCE! FAILURE! What the hell is wrong with you, lady?
That first one I found a way to forgive myself for. After all, I married him at the wise age of 18 while I held our baby in my arms. And while 18 year olds think they know everything, they rarely do. Marrying was a poor choice then. He and I were not on the same page. Hell, we weren’t even on the same planet most of the time. So, on that one, I’m calling a mulligan.
This one has been very different. Eyes wide open and all that. I wasn’t an innocent lamb when I married him. And we have been married for over 22 years. So clearly a lot of poking and prodding has been necessary to try to understand this. You may get a pass in blaming one divorce on the other party, but don’t try to pull that shit with two divorces. Time to look inside and figure out your own culpability, missy.
Don’t worry – I’m not brave enough to tell you all the things I did wrong, all the ways I fell short. My ego isn’t strong enough for that and, besides, you have things to do – you can’t sit around for days reading about my many shortcomings. (Right? Because if you can, tell me if you want them alphabetical or grouped by category. I’ll get right on it.)
As I travel through this 2nd divorce, I have thought long and hard about a few things and have made some decisions for myself. This, then, is my emancipation proclamation. It’s not about being emancipated from the marriage; it’s about emancipating myself from the some aspects of me that were (are) not working.
I’m going to be more selfish and less apologetic about it.
I have spent my life mired in the grey areas. I see both sides, always. And so I waffle. (Yum, waffles. BRB.) That grey-area thing makes me very empathetic to others. This is often seen as a very good quality but it can also muck things up. It can make a person wishy-washy. It can cause a person to do what others want instead of what is best. So that’s gotta change.
I’m going to do what is best instead of what others want.
I am going to trust my gut more when it screams “No!” and second-guess myself less.
And when my gut screams “Yes!”, well, I might get a second opinion just be be careful.
I am going to work harder to see things more black and white. Not completely black and white, I will always leave a margin of error, but I can’t stay stuck in the middle. I have to pick a side.
I will no longer, from a position of pity for others, make decisions that negatively impact me or my family. I will stand firm with the choice that is best for us.
If I have made a decision that I later realize has a negative impact on me or my family, I will be brave enough to rectify it in spite of the fallout that may come from doing so, even if it causes pain to those I love. We will get through it.
I will stand firm in my own beliefs and, because of that, I will be more consistent and dependable to those who need consistency and dependability from me. They may not always like my positions or my decisions, in fact I can guarantee they will not, but they won’t be surprised when I stand firm inside them.
Lastly, if I’m hungry in the middle of the night, I’ll get something to eat.
OK, that last one has nothing to do with the emancipation proclamation, but I thought I’d sneak it in because sometimes I get hungry in the middle of the night. All this 3AM cleaning works up an appetite. I want waffles.
Anyway, this proclamation probably doesn’t impact you in any way unless you were going to ask me to borrow money or to foster your pet monkey for the summer or something. And if you were? NO!
(How’d I do??)