Divorce.

Even as I write this, I look in the top right corner of the blogger dashboard and see the name Andrea K., along with a picture of me in a wedding dress in front of the church doors. Just another lingering part of my life that I haven't changed back yet.

So, I've been gone awhile. First I was too busy planning the wedding, then I was too busy being "happily" married, then I was too busy with married life, then I was too busy getting divorced. Or maybe too ashamed, or maybe too distracted by whatever else I could do to avoid writing this post. I don't know.

This is a tricky blog to write because there's a very fine line between how discreet or open I can be, and how much information is too little and how much is too much.

Well first of all, at this point, I'm sure my divorce is no secret. Between Mike posting angry messages on Facebook and the fact that my Facebook name is back to my maiden name and all photos of me and Mike are removed from my Facebook, I'm sure everyone ever knows I got a divorce. I wonder if my friends gossip about it the way I did to so many other people. "Did you see that Andrea got a divorce? She changed her name back! Do you know what happened? Who left who? They were only married a year! She got married too young. She got married too soon. I knew this would happen!" Words and phrases I threw around so carelessly about my acquaintances. I wouldn't be surprised if they were said about me. Or maybe people are more compassionate, just hoping that I'm okay. I don't really know, and I guess I shouldn't really care.

So, I guess I want to talk some about the past four months of my life. I left Mike in the first week of January. I was legally divorced through the court system in early March. I didn't commit the dates to memory and I have no desire to look them up. I'd rather not remember them, honestly. It's bad enough that December 28, 2011 will be engrained in my memory forever and will continue to pop up in places for the rest of my life.

I should never have married Mike. That's the honest truth. I was looking to settle down, because it seemed like the right thing to do, and when I met Mike he was a nice guy so I thought he was perfect. Mike also had always wanted to find that true love, so we both clung to each other and, despite obvious flaws, completely ignored them and pretended everything was completely perfect. And then the marriage kind of just... fell apart. Fights about stupid things, grudges held, and.. what's the phrase the courts use? The marriage was irretrievably broken? I mean, maybe at first it wasn't, I don't know. Maybe I should have spoken up sooner when I was unhappy. Maybe I should have tried counseling or something. And so many people talk about marriage being forever, marriage being hard, how I gave up too soon, but, if marriage is that hard, that unhappy, then I don't want it. I spent months feeling trapped in my life, resigned to unhappiness because marriage was forever. I didn't think there was a way out because I was so against divorce. On many levels. And I was afraid of my family not forgiving me. And I was proud, too proud to admit to everyone that told me to use caution when I ignored them and rushed into a marriage with a man I'd known all of 16 months.

In economics, there's opportunity cost, I think? My one economics professor said to us that, not just in economics, but in all of life, you do ANYTHING until the cost outweighs the benefit. Whenever the cost begins to outweigh the benefit, you change. And I guess that's how my marriage was. One day I woke up and realized that the cost of staying, my unhappiness, all of it, was not worth the benefits. So I came home from work, I told Mike, and I left.

I think alot of people, Mike included, thought that was easy for me. And for anyone that follows me on Facebook, for anyone that doesn't know me well, for anyone that thinks that was an easy choice, I want you to know right know: the morning I woke up after leaving Mike was the worst day of my life, without a doubt. I woke up in my friend's guest bed. I couldn't go home to my apartment, because I'd left. I couldn't call my parents, because I was scared that they'd disown me or yell at me or something terrible. I felt more alone and cut off than I ever have, and all I could picture was Mike's face from the night before. I pictured him sad and alone, and I sobbed my broken heart out. The biggest debate I had in the whole marriage was that one morning. I wanted to go back right then and there,  I wanted to live the rest of my life unhappy in my marriage just to take the look of betrayal and heartbreak off of Mike's face. And the only thing that kept me rooted to that bed was the belief, deep down, that he could do better than me. I honestly believed, and still do, that I am not right for him and he will be happier when he finds someone more suited to him. And so I cried it all out, feeling even worse knowing that I had caused that pain and could never, ever fix it. I cried all day. I sat at my friend's kitchen table and the tears just poured down my face. I cried until there were no tears left, and then I just sat. And I woke up the next day and cried again. By day three, I was just so emotionally exhausted that there were no tears left, just a hollowness.

The next two months weren't easy, either.  My closest friends, who were mostly just shocked and confused at first, were there for me, no matter what. And I did tell my parents, and learned that they love me much more unconditionally than I believed. And when I told them more about my unhappiness, our incompatibility, they were more understanding than I would have thought. And I found an apartment, and I got all my finances taken care of. I fell apart for a little, quite alot, actually. There were some days that I looked ahead at my future and the rest of my life and I honestly believed it would never get better, that I could never be happy. Some days I just went through the motions and didn't want life to go on. Some days, I read the angry, bitter texts Mike sent and I honestly believed what he said about me.

But little by little, I'm getting better. I relied on friends and family, I asked for help when I needed it, and I stopped caring so damn much about what people think, whether they are friends, family, acquaintances, enemies, strangers, etc. My life is my own. And despite what anyone else sees or thinks or believes, nobody else really knows what is best for me. I might not always know, either, but I do know that if I'm unhappy nobody else can tell me that forcing myself to stay married will eventually lead to happiness. Or anything about my life, really. It's my life, and it's too short and too precious to waste being unhappy because it's what other people want, in any decision I make.

These past few months have stripped me of my identity, my beliefs, my pride, my self worth, and who knows what else. But they've also started me on the path to rebuilding it, and rebuilding it better and stronger. I was helping a friend repaint a room, and it's kind of like that. You start with this dingy room. First coat of paint looks awful, and the trim looks weird, and it's a mess, second coat is clearing it up, and by the third you've got this new, pretty, bright room. I started out a mess, and learning to rebuild my life looked worse before it looked better. But it's definitely looking better.

Anyways, this is a ridiculously long post, and if anyone actually read the whole thing, props to you. If you want any more details on my divorce, message me privately. While I have to be discreet on a public blog, I have no issues being very very open in a private message, especially given all the openness my ex-husband has been willing to use against me on Facebook. That may be a bit catty of me or something, but at least I'm not refusing to share because I think people will think I'm catty, you know?