There are no time limits to heart ache

I apologize for my long silence. In recent months, a hectic schedule filled with deadlines and immediate concerns prevented me from tending to this blog. When I write my thoughts about this topic, I need time for reflection. After two months of merely acting and reacting, it is nice to find the quiet time to respond to the heart wrenching comments on my previous posts.

To my readers in pain:

The shock of your spouse deserting your marriage is so painful that you feel like you might die. There is no place to which you can escape, and the pain is with you 24/7. Some seek relief in sleep, and they sleep 12-14 hours at a time. Others can't sleep and spend their nights wandering and thinking about the "what ifs?" Sometimes you are so tired physically and emotionally that you can hardly think straight. Your mind mulls over the same issues, which lead to the same dead ends.

Your pain is raw and new, and you are still in a state of disbelief. All you want is your old cozy life, and your familiar schedule, and your spouse. The house is deadly silent, too silent, but hope springs eternal - maybe this is all a mistake and your spouse will return.

For some of you, the anxiety is so great that you feel as if you are having a heart attack. Your doctor will probably prescribe a mild anti-depressant. Others will try to dull their pain with alcohol, or increased smoking or exercise. I did all three.

Your need to talk is insatiable, and your friends and family, so helpful at first, start to be less available after a while. They have their own lives to lead, and many feel helpless in the face of such grief. You feel lonely and isolated, and the one person who understands you best and who you need the most is gone - your spouse.

After six months it feels like the pain simply won't go away. You are continually shocked with new developments, for the process of divorce is one of discovery. You discover how emotionally cold your spouse has become towards you; how painful memories crop up at the most inopportune times; how much your lifestyle must change and how much you will need to sacrifice in order to carry on; and how hard it is to move forward when you have lost your rudder.

Everything seems bewildering and new. Some will have to seek a job; others are paying bills for the first time. Taking care of the kids and house by yourself seems tough enough, and then you discover your car needs servicing and will have to be left at the garage. You've found two jobs, but they are at the opposite ends of town and the transportation costs are eating away at your income.

Meanwhile, society treats your pain as a trivial thing. You are merely going through a divorce, and it isn't as if your spouse has died. You find that the following piece of advice does not help at all: "In time, you will find someone new." You don't want someone new; you want your spouse!

You hear over and over that time heals all wounds, but the days are crawling by so slowly that you begin to despair. Then, all of a sudden, you realize that a few hours have passed without your having thought about your situation. You attend a party and you leave it feeling young and light. You hear a laugh and you realize it came from you as you watched a comedy show.

These are the small symptoms of healing. Take them to heart. The process of grieving isn't simple. Some seem to bounce back faster than others, but the situation for each person is different. Some are overwhelmed with having to tend to their family's emotions as well as their own; some are left completely alone.

My friends told me I was lucky because I had no children to be concerned about. What did they know? My spouse left the year I entered menopause, and I grieved as much over not having children as at losing him. We had made a pact in our careless youth that we would always be there for each other, and for the first time in my life I began to fear growing old.

The other day a new acquaintance asked me if I had been married. "Yes, 26 years," I replied. "How long have you been divorced?" she asked. "Seven years," I said, somewhat shocked at the passage of time. "Ah, well," she said dismissively, and changed the subject. I did not have the courage to tell her that Bob is still with me every day. How can he not be? I spent over half my life with him, and he was my best friend. The same as my brother and parents are with me daily in my thoughts and memories, so is my ex-spouse. Out of all those years together, 90% of the memories of my marriage are good.

The difference is that seven years later the agony I felt over the divorce is gone. Oh, I still experience pangs once in a while, but largely my new life is full and active, and I have a great career. There are no time limits to heart ache, however. Each one of us must deal with our hurts in our own way. You have come to this blog because you are grieving and because you are searching for advice or answers or support. Know that this intense pain you are feeling will eventually recede. My counselor told me that it would take two years for me to recover from the shock of divorce, but that it could take up to five years for a full recovery and a sense of peace and acceptance. I was horrified at the thought, but she was right. After one year I stopped crying daily. After two years I started to feel like myself again. Five years later I had let go of the situation to the point where I felt strong enough to write this blog without rancor or finger pointing.

Here are some links that might help you, although there is no substitute for a good, caring friend who will listen without judgment, and an effective therapist:

• Divorce recovery

These two links are for people who have moved beyond the first stages of grief and anger:

• When divorce recovery hurts too long

• Moving Beyond Divorce
  

It's More Than Merely Coping; It's About Accepting Your New Life

It happened again yesterday: Bob was on my mind throughout the day. I had sent a college friend a happy birthday email, and he casually replied that the reunion weekend was coming up and that he hadn't heard yet if Bob was coming.

Heart pang. I loved going to campus with my husband during the spring to watch lacrosse, and meet up with the old gang. Oh, sure everyone was getting grayer, last time I went, but there was the comfort of seeing old friends, their wives and their families, and talking about the good old days. I attended a woman's college and met Bob at an all-male school, and these reunions are on his campus. The last time I went to an alumni reunion, only one of our group was divorced and remarried. This time around, three of them will be bringing new spouses, none of whom have the history that the old wives had. In my case, I have known the guys since I was 19 years old when they lived in the fraternity and looked younger than their sons. I knew all of the old stories and then some. I wonder if I will ever see this group again? While Bob and his new spouse are invited to their children's weddings, I no longer receive even a Christmas card, except from a few.

When I divorced, my mourning extended farther than simply losing my husband, I lost many of our friends and his family, which was unforeseen, and I lost all those rituals that I so adored: these reunion trips, vacations with couples, tennis night out, etc. This is the toughest part about moving on: the landscape of your life changes radically after the loss of a spouse. At first you are lost, and reel from place to place, clueless as to which way you should go. Slowly, you start to regain some sense of direction.

Oh, I've regrouped and formed a new life. In talking to other women in my situation, I realize how lucky I am. One woman, who has been single as long as me, has yet to bond with a close group of women her age. Although she works, she feels lonely and isolated. She told me that if it weren't for her teenage daughter, she would have no social life, and then she asked me, with a hint of envy, how I had been able to move on.

Being an extrovert helps, I replied. I didn't add how much hard work it had been to fight off depression, or how much of a sea change my own attitude and emotions had gone through, so that I was able to embrace and recognize all the good things going on in my life. Tonight I will go to a restaurant with a group of single friends after work to decompress; on Saturday I will visit a friend who is recovering from knee surgery; and on Sunday I will visit a friend's house to pick out some clothes (she sells the Doncaster line on the side). We will chat, discuss clothes and Jane Austen, joke and giggle, and drink wine. Last Sunday, three of us went to a movie. So, although there is no man lurking in my dating horizon, I lead a full and active social life.

The toughest part about being suddenly single, when every cell in your body craves a mate, is to embrace your new life. Letting go of my preconceptions (divorce is bad, I was a lousy wife, single women are losers in the game of love), and enjoy each day for what it offers. It's hard, I know. I still have setbacks, like I had yesterday, when the old yearning and wishful thinking takes over. I was melancholy all day long, but that is part of my new landscape - recognizing that this yearning for a lost past will always be with me.

As you find your way in your own new landscape, take heart. You have it within you to find your new direction. Carving that new path takes hard work, however, and time, but with patience and the help of friends and family, you will find your way out of your heart ache. Just follow your instincts, and keep moving. For your own emotional health, you simply can't stay where you've been.

• Ways to Move on After Divorce

• Moving On After Divorce: Women's Divorce
  

"I'm Sorry" is not worth dying for

A colleague died a month ago in front of her ex-husband. Since their divorce three years ago, they had been playing a co-dependent game: he as baiter, she as baitee. Her friends told her to move on with her life. We cautioned her that John, an S.O.B. if ever there was one, would never admit he was wrong or say he was sorry. We also told her he wouldn't come back to her... especially not after he made love to and married the young woman she'd taken in like a daughter.

Marianne just couldn't let go. She had moved out of the house when she first learned of the affair between Melissa and John, leaving behind their two dogs and all her possessions except for a few suitcases filled with clothes and toiletries.

Over the next months she'd return to play with the dogs, and pick up more items. The following morning at work, she would be devastated. For the first few months, we supported her, listening to her tales of woe, and advising her on the best course of action.

But Marianne's need to see John and make him admit he was wrong, see the error of his ways, or feel sorry for her was greater than our sound advice. She began to develop a jaw ache that wouldn't go away, and that turned out to be an arthritic joint. Her sleep was off, and her back hurt all the time. Migraine headaches would immobilize her. Towards the end of her short life (she was 48 when she died) she was taking so many pills that she lost count. Her blood pressure was low, and she would come to work with bruises. "Oh, I fainted," she'd say lightly, but we cautioned her to see a doctor and reduce her medications. To us the fainting spells were worrisome.

Marianne knew how we felt about John, so she failed to tell us that she had made up with him and Melissa, and that the three of them were palling around. They had watched the superbowl together at John's house, and Marianne would frequently babysit the dogs when John and his child bride went on vacation. Had I known of this, I would have organized an intervention. There was something terribly unhealthy about the whole set up. John was a manipulative bastard, and anyone with a thimble full of sense could see right through his bluster. But not Marianne.

Marianne's last day of work was splendid. She attended a day-long meeting in which her contributions were creative and valued. She seemed to be in a good mood. When people said "Have a good weekend," they had no idea that it would be the last time they would see her.

Some time that night she drove to John's house and collapsed from an overdose of drugs. When I heard the news, I immediately knew that she didn't mean to kill herself. All of us who were close to the situation intuitively felt that John said or did something to trigger a response in her. My sense is that she went to him to be "rescued." But she miscalculated. Either she took more drugs than was wise, or she had counted on a faster response from John or the ambulance.

The fact that she didn't leave provisions or instructions for her beloved dog was an indication that she didn't mean to commit suicide, or that she had acted on the spur of the moment. That little pooch meant everything to her, and she had left her apartment with the lights blazing and the dog all alone. It would have taken her 20 minutes to drive to John's, so the drugs had a while to take effect.

It's been a month since Marianne was cremated. A new person sits at her desk doing her work. Her dog is with a new owner. Her furniture was donated to a poor single mother, and her clothes were shipped off to Good Will. John is still married to his Tootsie, and he's still an S.O.B.

For the rest of us, life has gone on, except for poor Marianne, who couldn't - wouldn't - let go of her hurt and anger. Nothing we said worked (seek counseling, stop seeing him, do something nice for yourself, help others.) In the end John didn't say the words Marianne wanted to hear, and I'm not sure they would have satisfied her even if she'd heard them. And, so, she gambled and lost everything that mattered.

If you are having difficulty letting go of your anger toward your ex spouse, seek help. Your friends are there to help you, but if your anger has taken over your life and your common sense, you probably need an expert's advice. I wish I'd been able to give Marianne the kind of advice she was willing to hear. To my way of thinking, wishing to hear 'I'm sorry' is not worth dying for.

• Depression in Codependent Relationships
• Codependents: Symptoms
• Are You or Your Partner Addicted to Drama?
  

Dining Out Alone

Sorry for the long silence. I thought I had lost this blogger account, but I found my password and new email address (both of which I had changed without recording what I had done. AAAARGGH!)

A month ago a divorced colleague sounded astounded when I said that I planned to dine out alone after our appointment. "Where?" she asked. "Don't you feel conspicuous?" She was curious, because her daughter will enter college next year. For the first time since her divorce, she will truly be by herself, and she was already experiencing some anxiety at the thought of so much "alone time."

I thought about her concern, recalling the first time I dined alone in public. I wasn't divorced yet, and it was a Friday evening. I was surrounded by couples, mostly young and dating. It took all my energy to hold back my tears. At that time of sorrow, I felt even lonelier in that crowded space. Bob and I had been accustomed to dining out once or twice a week. We always set up a couples Friday, and we had followed that tradition for twelve years. When we dined alone together, we always had something to talk about. Our conversations were interspersed with lots of laughter, and I never tired of being with 'my man'.

During our separation, we would hash out our agreement at a public place. It was the only time in our long relationship that we had nothing to share with each other, and we resembled one of those silent couples who waited wordlessly for their food and stared out into space, ignoring each others' eyes. More than anything, I knew my marriage was over during those excruciatingly awful dining experiences.

After the divorce papers were signed, I persisted in dining out alone. Time is money, and I resisted having to go grocery shopping, cooking, and cleaning the dishes during my busy week days. As time passed, I began to feel more comfortable sitting by myself in a restaurant. Here are a few tips for single dining success that work for me:

• Go to a favorite haunt where the waiters or waitresses have gotten to know you. This process might take time, but once the staff recognizes you, they will seat you at your favorite table and greet you with a smile. In less than a few months, the place will start to feel cozy, like a diningroom away from home. In one restaurant, the waitress immediately takes me to my favorite table by a window, and brings me a glass of cabernet. Even when the place is busy, I am given preferential treatment.
  

• If you don't like staring into space, bring something to do. I write notes in my datebook, check my phone or email messages, compose letters, read a novel or newspaper, listen to my ipod, and text message discreetly. I also bring a small electronic sudoku puzzle, which hangs off my keychain. If you are desperate for something to do and you forgot to bring along materials, pretend you are a food critic. Take note of the service, the dishes and their presentation, and the atmosphere. Formulate your critique in your mind.
  

• Go early, before the other tables fill up with families or couples. Usually restaurants are relatively empty between 5:30 - 7:30. One tends to receive undivided attention at this time, which is nice on the ego, and I always ask for the best table, which is usually available.

• If you are watching your pennies, go during happy hour. Drinks and appetizers cost less. An appetizer plus a salad usually fill me up nicely, and they are not hard on the pocketbook when the prices are cut in half.
  

• Don't sit at the bar alone. Older women tend to be ignored even by men their age, and that is hard on the ego.

• Dine out during the week. Weekends are still hard for me, and they might be for you too. I avoid going out alone on weekends by making sure to receive my new netflix DVD for Saturday, or to be with friends. On the few occasions that I dine alone on weekends, I dress up nicely. When I look like a winner, I feel empowered.

• Remember, people barely even notice you are dining solo. You probably feel more conspicuous than you really are.
  

Here's a lovely quotation I found online that describes my single dining experience:

Being solitary is being alone well: being alone luxuriously immersed in doings of your own choice, aware of the fullness of your own presence rather than the absence of others.

(Source: Alice Koller, The Stations of Solitude, 1990, New Beacon Book of Quotations by Women)

Learn more about the topic at these links:

• Dining Alone, About.com

• Discussion: Not Liking Going Out Alone

Finding Your First Job After 50

I am no expert, by any means. Regarding divorce, I can only write about my own experiences. One of the biggest obstacles I had to overcome in searching for a job was my wardrobe. Hours after Bob announced he was leaving, I called up a friend at a nonprofit that I'd worked for through the years, telling her I needed a job. Sheepishly she told me that she only had an 8 hour per week job. I had trained the previous people who worked in this position, which was to write thank you letters after donations came in, record the checks, and file the information.

I took the job. At that point I would accept anything to get me out of the house and into the market place.

My main problem was my wardrobe. After years of working from home, the clothes in my closet consisted of blue jeans, sweat suits, comfortable tops, and fancy outfits I'd wear to parties. There was nothing that fit, since I was losing about a pound a day from stress, and any work clothes I had kept were out of date.

Here's where my elegant sister-in-law came to the rescue. We traveled to the outlet malls in Delaware to their fabulous end of season sales, and she helped me put together 5 fashionable outfits, all mix and match, all well-fitting, for a fraction of their cost. Included were stylish but comfortable shoes, stockings, a coat, accessories, and a new handbag.

In this one aspect of my life I was in control. I don't think I spent more than $350 on outfits that helped to boost my spirit and make me look great on interviews.

I would get up every morning, wash my hair, put on my makeup, and wear a new outfit. I stretched that 8 hour per week job as much as I could, going in at 11 a.m., taking lunch with the regular staff (on my own time) and working until 2 p.m. This meant I went into the office four times per week. On my way home, I would check the job advertisements. One impulsive afternoon I walked into a framing shop and applied for a part time position as a framer. After taking an easy math test, I got the job, working 20 hours per week. I didn't make much money, but I was busy.

No task was too menial for me. I needed to get out of the house, so I did. I needed an income, since Bob controlled all the purse strings, so I did.

I recall talking to a woman my age who had taken two years to find a job. "Why did it take you so long?" I asked, curious, as she had more qualifications on paper than me. She answered, "I couldn't find anything." Translation: "I couldn't find anything worthy of my talents." While she was staying at home collecting unemployment checks and worrying about her bills, I was running around town working three jobs. No, I'm not taking a superior attitude. Actually, I humbled myself, working in positions for which I was overqualified, and for which I was paid barely above minimum wage.

My experience has told me that it is easier to find a job when you already have one. You exude a certain confidence and energy, which the interviewers notice.

Getting a new wardrobe was my first important step in job hunting. The second was keeping all my options open. Within 6 months this old bird found a job with benefits. The glowing recommendations from my supervisors helped to seal the deal. Those three jobs had also beefed up my resume; telling my potential employers that my work skills were current.

The point of this little post? I had not held a regular, full time job in 20 years when I had to find a way to support myself. I used all the resources I had to find those first three jobs. If you've kept up your skills by volunteering, use those contacts first. You'll be amazed at how friendly and helpful those people can be, and how that first little job will open up doors.

To this day, no job is too menial for me. If I need work, I will say yes to the first opportunity that presents itself. If I need more money, I will go out and find extra work. (In fact, I have a great job now, one that I wouldn't trade for the world, and enough income to get by.)

Good luck to you in your job hunt. Remember, persistence counts. And arrive at the interview early, so you can go to the bathroom, dry up your tears, and fix your makeup before entering the front office.

Who Wants to Date a Woman Over 50? Not 50 Year Old Men, It Seems

Regular readers of this blog will note two changes in my personal profile.I removed my photo and I changed my online name to "Movin' On." There are two reasons for these changes.

While reading other blogs about divorce, I stumbled across a post written by a man in his fifties. He wrote about online dating, and about how surprisingly successful he'd been at meeting women. One pattern that revealed itself to him and that he found interesting was that some women "lied" about their ages, saying they were under 50 and using photographs taken when they were younger. The reason they "lied", I surmised, was because he (a man in his mid-fifties) was looking to date women younger than 50. The older women had 'fooled' him into going out with them.

His statement made me pause. Was I lying to my readers by using a photograph that a friend had taken during the throes of my divorce? The photo on my sidebar, I realized, was seven years old. I had to ask myself: Do I still look like that woman? Recent photos say I don't. My hair is grayer, and I have to dye it to keep it blonde. It isn't as shiny any more, and I am starting to develop slight, but visible bags under my eyes. In addition, I have gained weight, and the sweet doggie in the photo died about two years ago.

I didn't mean to "lie" to my readers. I simply chose that photo because it defined who I was when I was going through the trauma of divorce. I looked healthy and happy on the outside, yet inside I was bleeding.

Second, I changed my name to "Vic's Moving On." "Vic's Still Standing" seemed too static for the person I have become. Tonight my family commented again on how much the divorce has changed me. They have noticed my independence and eagerness to experience as much of life as I can while I can. This year I am taking classes in leadership, embarking on challenging projects at work, volunteering with a nonprofit organization, and joining a professional woman's organization to meet new people and network. All of these activities are new.

That man I mentioned earlier, is looking for someone much younger than me, even though is he only two years younger than I am. I surmise he wants the package to look a certain way on the outside. But what about the inside? Do 12, 24, or 36 calendar months really matter all that much in the great big scheme of things? I can empathize with a woman who is 51 or 52 years old and who wants to meet a man. What is she supposed to do when she joins an online dating service and sees that most of the men in her age range aren't interested in meeting a woman her age?

Those age cut-offs are one main reason that I don't bother to join an online dating service. Frankly, I'm looking for a man who wants to spend time with a mature, funny, dynamic, smart and talented woman, and who doesn't restrict himself from meeting a woman who happens to be a tad older than him. At this stage, I am willing to go out with men in their 40's, 50,s, 60's, and early 70's. Having said that, I will scour my photos to find a new one for my profile, one that shows me at my best as I look now.

Who knows, perhaps some nice 30 something hunk will chance to see it and be so entranced that he'll move heaven and earth to meet me.

Like, yeah.

Additional note: The blog post, Women Over 50 Dating by Susan Dunn, a clinical psychologist, assures women over 50 that there are plenty of men their age (or younger) who are searching for someone just like them. Middle aged men might try dating a younger woman once or twice, but the mature man will quickly start to look for someone closer to his age if he wants a lasting relationship. Click here to read it.

(Photo of a vibrant single woman over 50, Marianne Faithful, Mick Jagger's and Eric Clapton's former girlfriend, chanteuse, and actress.)

The Three Divorces

The Three Divorces is a post that defines the discussions on this blog. They are: The legal divorce, the social divorce, and the emotional divorce. Each is separate and distinct from the other. Adjusting to the emotional side of divorce took the longest for me. The social consequences of becoming single after so many years are inevitable, and I find that they affected my feelings about my divorce. Click on the above link to read the article. Other good information sits on its parent site, DivorceInfo, as well.

Strive to Have a Contented Christmas

For the newly divorced person, or one who is going through divorce, this time of year can be extremely stressful, especially when contrasted with past, happier times. In Holiday Happiness Can Be Difficult to Find, Emily Hoffman mentions simplifying one's holiday just after a divorce. I find her advice to be sound. In fact, each year my Christmas preparations get easier. Where I once threw parties and decorated three theme trees, I only put up one small one that has been carefully placed for maximum effect for both inside and outside the house. Instead of giving a party, I meet friends for a holiday dinner at a nice restaurant. The nieces and nephews receive gift certificates to their favorite stores, and I take them on their shopping expedition the day after Christmas when they get twice the bang out of my buck.

I purchase consumables for friends and older relatives: wines, fine cheeses and chocolates, exotic beers, energy efficient fluorescent bulbs, spring bulbs to put into the ground, blooming plants that brighten a room, memory sticks for computers or expensive memory cards for cameras, reams of printer paper and ink cartridges for computer printers, and the like. These gifts may not seem memorable, but they are useful and easy to accumulate at sales over the year. Chances are these gifts won't be regifted, as they are so useful. I 'wrap' all my presents in pretty gift bags that I purchased on sale the year before or at the dollar store.

What is happiness anyway? I find it to be an intense emotion that lasts only a few days or hours. Often, there is a feeling of letdown after one experiences happiness. Such an intense emotion simply cannot be sustained for long. These days I strive for the mellower, steadier feeling of contentment. This not only takes less energy to achieve, but in the long run contentment can be equally as satisfying as happiness. Click here to find some ways to achieve this gratifying state: Contentment.

Surviving the Holidays When You're Sad

Yes, it's been a while since my divorce, but I can still vividly recall my first Christmas alone. Not having kids made the experience even lonelier. I cried, usually by myself, in my car as I arrived to or left parties, feeling like the odd duck, the single person in a sea of couples, and hugely conspicuous as a result.

I had reached a point where I was tired of casual acquaintances approaching me, their expressions full of concern, yet keeping their distance, and saying in an overly loud voice, "Aw, how are you?" as if I was deaf, or worse, had caught a fatal disease. My friends knew better than to bring the divorce up over and over. And I dreaded these encounters with 'almost strangers', and literally just shrank away. The last thing I needed during this celebratory time was a reminder over and over and over of my situation with questions like, "How are you? I am amazed to see you doing so well. How are you carrying on? You look so good." etc. etc. etc.

Giving my own holiday party for the first time also felt strange. There was no one to help me put up the decorations, no host to greet couples at the door as I puttered in the kitchen, and no one to help clean up afterwards. That first time around I had made the mistake of inviting our old couples friends, making Bob's absence even more glaring. Now I know to mix things up, and to arrange for a cleaning service to give my house a once a year cleaning AFTER I've had people over.

That first holiday alone, I had made arrangements to be with family, of course. And everyone was super solicitous and nice. But deep inside I grieved. I missed my familiar Christmas morning rituals at home in my robe, opening our stockings, sipping coffee, and listening to soft traditional music, while our tree lights glittered in the background. We had collected ornaments from every country and state we visited, and they hung on our tree like old friends. We would often loll in bed, savoring our time together, then pack up the car and visit one of the family, his side one year, my side the other year. As Bob walked out the door, he took all those rituals with him.

I didn't think things could get worse, and then New Year's arrived. There was no one to turn to first when the clock struck twelve. My mother turned to my father, my brother to his wife, and the kids turned to each other. Then they turned to me. Talk about feeling left out.

The pain of those first bewildering years is now largely gone. I still find New Year's difficult, and I recall crying last year as the two couples I was with danced slowly in each others' arms. My tears came unbidden, much to my chagrin, for I thought I had come to grips with my situation.

If you are reading this blog because you are in pain, and because it is the middle of the night and you can't sleep, then take heart and know that during divorce or the loss of a loved one we all go through this stage of enormous grief, loneliness, and pain. Sometimes you will literally not know what to do with yourself, because no matter how hard you try to put the divorce behind you and how loyally your follow the advice of your counselors, family, and friends, that deep physical pain remains inside of you, cutting you at the most unexpected times.

I savored the few moments when I could forget about the divorce, when I could laugh and be in the moment. Those small islands of happiness and contentment saved me. As time passed these islands grew larger, and that large sea of unhappiness shrank.

Below is my advice to you this holiday season. I wrote these tips last year, but they are worth revisiting:

If you are going through the first stages of raw grief:

• Do not spend the holidays alone.
• Do not spend the holidays with strangers.
• Spend your days with family.
• If you do not get along with your family, spend as much time as you can with close friends.

• If you cannot bear to stay home for the holiday, pick a place you've always wanted to visit, like Vermont or Italy or a local attraction.
• Do not go alone on a tour group.
• Bring along a close family member or friend.

• Do not resurrect a ritual that only you and your spouse shared.
• Start your own new rituals, like inviting close friends over for a tree decorating ceremony.

If you are feeling less vulnerable and somewhat strong:

• If you cannot bear to be alone and can't afford to take a trip away, call a homeless shelter or church, and arrange to be among people who are helping others transition through grief or pain. By helping others, you will discover how strong you are. Every time I thought life couldn't get worse, I would encounter someone in worse pain and need. This did not alleviate my own pain, but such a person would bring me outside of myself. It was a powerful feeling to be wanted and needed at a time when I felt like discarded garbage.
  
• If you feel too vulnerable to do the above, fill a Christmas stocking for a poor child. The act of filling that stocking will take your mind off your grief.
• Or visit an elderly person who has no family close by at a nursing home. Bring them something special that they can use, like perfume or scented drawer liners.
  
• Help a nonprofit organization arrange their holiday party for their clients and volunteers.
  
• Or join a nature group and volunteer to count migrating birds.

Whatever you decide to do, find ways to keep yourself creatively and actively busy. Leave yourself no time to wallow in your loneliness, not unless you feel strong enough to weather your emotions alone.

If you are feeling strong:

• Sometimes, curling up with a good book, a lovely glass of wine, with your pet in your lap, and surrounded by the sound of beautiful music is more soothing than an evening spent among strangers.
• Or rent ten movies you've always wanted to see, and hold a mini movie fest at home.

Here are some helpful links:

• Surviving the holidays without a partner
• Alone in Canada, Celebrating the holidays
• Ten Tips for Enjoying the Holidays Alone
• Home Alone for the Holidays
• How To Enjoy Being Alone for the Holidays
  

Image above is from RavX Rawl, entitled, Happy New Year

Older, Wiser in Bed: What's Boring to One Person, Might Mean Quiet Charm to Another

This recent article in the Time Online entitled Older, Wiser in Bed answers a question from a bored 50-something woman who is contemplating leaving her husband for an older man. The answer describes exactly how I feel about so many spouses leaving their mates to seek seemingly more verdant pastures: The grass isn't necessarily greener on the other side, it's just different. The horse seeking greener pasture hasn't changed, except that it wanted something not quite in reach. Finding a way to get to it took quite some effort. But when it got to the other pasture, it realized that all it had accomplished was to simply trade grass for . . . grass. Here is Dr. Stuttaford's answer to the woman's question:

Leaving a husband whose only vice is that he is boring seems a poor reason to renege on the mutual commitment and loyalty that led you to battle through life together for nearly 20 years.

Dullness is entirely subjective. What is interpreted as dullness in a man by one woman will be described by another as quiet charm. Is your husband dull, or are you just bored by him? Would you find your older lover equally boring if you had been with him every day for 20 years? By then, you would know all his jokes and stories by heart. Furthermore, within ten years, your older man will be a septuagenarian with a 50 per cent chance of being impotent, and no longer able to be the skilled, considerate lover. His physical and mental powers will be beyond their peak and the first signs of intellectual inflexibility, emotional blunting and forgetfulness may well be showing.

By then, you may remember your husband with some nostalgia.

So what's the point of this post? In my humble and lay opinion, sometimes it takes less energy to "fix" a boring marriage than it does to renege on one's promise to love and cherish one another in order to embark on a new relationship. If the pain, chaos and upheaval that result from a broken marriage are worth the effort, then leave. But if you are merely bored ... look inside. Nine times out of ten, that's where the true problem lies. Horses seeking excitement bring their problems with them to that greener pasture.

Facing Your Fears

I finally saw a photo of her. The new wife. For years I'd been avoiding this moment, fearing it. I feared it despite hearing comments like,

• She's a pale imitation of you.
• She's a piece of work.
• She walked into the room and I overheard her saying, "Watch me, I'll have them eating out of my hand in less than an hour." She didn't.

I should have known better than to run from my fears. My good friend Leslie offered to show me a picture of her years ago, knowing what I would find. But I couldn't let go of my worry that somehow Bob had traded me in for a better model. The new wife might not behave with much class or decorum, but I knew she had been successful in business and had made a considerable fortune. Bob had also gone through great pains to tell me that she "completed him." She was his "soul mate." I didn't want to find out what a completer looked like.

Well, now I know.

One day when the opportunity presented itself I looked. And paused. And looked again. And felt nothing but relief. It felt like I'd removed a yoke.

And then my funny bone took over and the laughter poured out of me. They looked like two plumb salt and pepper shakers. The image was simply too much, and I have been laughing ever since.

Over Fifty and Divorced? You're Probably OK

Here's an interesting online article about divorce after 50 from AARP titled A House Divided. It comes to this conclusion:

At all age levels, midlife divorcers did quite well on our survey's measure of contentment and expectations for their future. When compared with respondents to other recent surveys, they reported roughly the same measures of happiness as other single Americans their own age, and those who remarried also scored very high. This held true regardless of who made the decision to split or how long the marriage lasted. As for regrets, about 70 percent of those who initiated the divorce were confident they'd done the right thing.

Memories of Then and Now

I ran across a photo of my ex yesterday. Well, I googled it. He looked old and tired and gray.

Here's why I searched for his image. Last week a college friend came over to visit and inevitably the talk turned to those bygone days ... and Bob. Last Friday Animal House came on. That was our (Bob's and my) favorite movie in the 70's. In fact, when Bob's fraternity brothers would get together they would act out the parts. All felt that the movie portrayed their fraternity life in the house to a tee (I'm sure all partying fraternities from those days think the same thing), and I will always associate that movie with Bob and his friends. The guys had "adopted" my friend and I, the two blonds as they called us, as honorary fraternity members and we reveled in our special status.

Yesterday, talk at a women's lunch I attended turned to divorce and acceptance. Of the five women, two of us were divorced. We spoke of our exes without rancor, having made the decision to move on. One of the women asked if I still had contact with Bob, and I said "No, I don't care if I ever see him again. He's part of my past."

After lunch I thought about my statement and realized I was wrong. Bob still plays a huge part in my life. My relationship with him, which spanned over half my life, helped to make who I am today. Whenever I walk along the river and see a bicyclist whiz by, I think of him. Whenever I enter the garage, I see his handiwork. We chose some of the furniture I still use. And while I enjoy myself immensely when I am with old friends I haven't seen for a while, I feel like half of a whole. Something is missing in the chemical mix: Bob.

My memories of Bob fall in two categories. The old Bob who I loved with all my heart; and the Bob of the days of our divorce. Somehow, I am able to separate the two and recognize that my old life, filled with so many happy memories, had value. But that my present life, which has taken on such a different direction and tone, has meaning as well.

So, feeling nostalgic but not alone on a Saturday night, with my faithful pooch at my feet, I googled Bob's name and came up with two photos. One was taken of him when we were married, standing at a tourist spot with the Rockies in the background. The other must be a recent faculty photo. Before clicking on that photo I felt trepidation, but on seeing it I felt ... nothing. Nothing at all. He looks like some distant uncle I had never met, and a faint shadow of the Bob of my memories. Which is where he belongs.

Photos: Peter Yarrow of Peter, Paul, and Mary, then and now

Write It Down

You are going through a separation and a divorce: this is no time to rely on memory. Write everything down. Everything! Keep a day book, a diary, and a running account of expenses of the past, present, and future. Leave nothing to chance.

I discovered as I worked through my grief and depression that I would forget the most obvious details at the most inconvenient times. So I learned to print out every email and save every note and scrap of paper.

I also learned that by jotting down my thoughts and feelings I could gain control of my emotions. In the middle of the night when I could not sleep, I would take pen to paper or fingertips to keyboard and pour my heart out. My brain could not tell the difference between my having had an actual conversation with a real person or an imaginary one. Once I got the words out on paper, I had relieved my mind of a problem and I was able to move on to the next step.

As you feel your life spinning out of control, take control of your life. Be organized. Save all scraps of paper. Write down your impressions of conversations. Take note of dates and times.

Take care to protect yourself. For if you don't, who will?

Here's a helpful blog: Write Out of Depression

Inviting the Single Person to Dinner

Singled Out: The dos and don’ts of inviting the unattached, by Helena Echlin advises married couples about the ins and outs of inviting singles to dinner or a couples event. As I've described on this blog on several occasions, I seldom get invited to couples gatherings these days. Most of my invitations are to meet girlfriends for lunch or for a girlfriends' night out.

This article talks about SPE, or single person energy. It seems we single women exude an exciting crackling energy that couples find a bit intimidating. We dress and groom a bit better, attend more exciting events, and keep our minds engaged.

Recalling my days as a hostess, I say that half the article is nothing but B.S. I always invited single people to my events, whether they were men or women, but frankly, I rarely noticed this so called SPE. Click here to read the article at CHOW: Singled Out.

Loss By Death Versus Loss Through Divorce

Here we go again. My radar pricked up tonight when a friend of mine reminded me forcibly that the reason an individual in our discussion group dropped out was because she was a tender widow. Meaning, she had lost her husband.

Huh?

Yeah, I feel sorry for her, as I do for all people who have lost their mates. But I had lost my husband too, and I had been married as long as the widow, yet when I bring my feelings of loss up among this group (and this is not often, believe me) I see their eyes glaze. Here's the difference between society's attitude towards a widow and divorcee: Society has accorded the widow all the dignity of her position - a solemn funeral and the rituals that accompany death, all of her husband's asset's, and all the sympathy and empathy she could ever wish for.

A divorcee's loss is generally devalued by society, the legal system, comedians, and yes, even friends and family. The reality is that while the widow is given every benefit of the doubt both legally, financially, and by society, the divorcee is generally viewed as a "loser" in marriage. The loss of a divorced mate, which is felt just as keenly as the loss of a dead mate, is swept aside as having less value on the "loss meter" scale than a widow's. As one friend told me, "Bob is still alive." Cold comfort, as he is completely out of my life in every sense of the word.

This same friend felt free to tell me a few weeks ago, "Bob was strange." Would she have made such a statement to a widow? I doubt it. At the time the widow dropped out of our discussion group a few years back, my wounds from losing my husband were just as raw as hers and I was struggling mightily to hold myself together for the sake of this group. Had I quit as she did, would I have received the same tender consideration? Looking back I think not.

I am tired of this disparity in treatment. Divorce is not a joke. It is as traumatic as the death of a loved one and loss of a child. It is that simple. Thank you for listening.


For my other post on the same topic, Death vs. Divorce, click here.

Turning the corner

I did not just turn fifty. With a start I realized that I am staring 60 in the face. Last January I celebrated my 58th birthday. My divorce happened almost 7 years ago! Thankfully, the pain of separation has receded. I still feel pangs, which come at unexpected times. But looking back, I see that I:

• embarked on a successful career
• found new friends
• discovered a sense of who I am and what I want to do when I grow up
• take pride in my accomplishments
• can go it alone

For those of you who are just now going through the agony of separation, hang in there. I truly thought my world had come to an end. I feared living in poverty. I feared growing old. I abhorred the thought of living alone. Over the years, all my preconceptions changed, some unwittingly, but most with conscious effort of understanding.

You may not ever be happy in the naive way that you once were. But as you reemerge from the ashes, your contentment will glow with the rich patina of experience, and you will find a deeper satisfaction than you've ever known before.

One quick step to independence is to become financially solvent:

• Click here for my post on the topic: Plan B: Always Have One
  

• And here for the MSN article, From Money to Emotions: Get Over Your Divorce

Careless Words Hurt

Years ago I worked with Marge, a woman who had moved to our city after her divorce. Her children were grown and she lived alone in a cute condo, working in a nonprofit and living off her pension. She had left her husband, an alcoholic, after a long marriage. A salty old broad from Maine, and I write these words with love and respect, her comments about her divorce and ex were always wry and sardonic.

One day I made a breezy, off-hand remark, something like, but “You’re divorced, you wouldn’t understand.” I don’t recall my exact words or their context. I do recall the enormous look of hurt on her face and the tears filling her eyes. I had wounded her.

Flash forward to my own situation. The young marrieds surrounding me regard my relationship with my ex as a colossal failure. I know now how Marge felt. For twenty-one years my marriage was a success. Bob and I were wildly in love and happy, holding hands and not getting enough of each others’ company. Only when my husband became restless did our relationship begin to unravel. Frankly, I could have twisted myself into 3 pretzels, I believe now that nothing I did would have changed his mind. He wanted new pastures, a new woman, and to go in an entirely new direction than we had taken.

I feel awkward when my comments about marriage or my ex are discounted as meaningless. It feels like half of my life is being negated. Just this week an old friend of mine told me that a friend of hers had thought Bob strange. The words hurt. I didn't think Bob strange at the time I was married to him. What did her statement mean? I felt a distinct twinge of pain.

Oh, Marge, wherever you are, I apologize for my careless words all those years ago. If only I knew then what I know now - that thoughtless remarks not only hurt, they are demeaning.

Here are some interesting links:

• Context Makes Some Words so Hurtful: El Paso Times
  

• Unexpected Side Effect: When the Friends Dump You At the Same Time as the Ex

Stay Clear of Confirmed Bachelors

To tag onto the previous post, I want to relate the discussions I had with two men (at separate times) on why they don't intend to marry again.

One had been married three times. He tried his best to make his third marriage work. (He was married at 18 the first time, married on the rebound the second time, and fell head over heels in love with his third wife, who eventually "Done Him Wrong.") When we met, he was in his mid-forties. The third sentence out of his mouth after we had set up our first date was, "I don't ever intend to marry again." He was as good as his word. And even though I felt some hope when our relationship lasted, he pulled away when everyone but the minister expected us to get married. I couldn't fault him, though. He never promised permanence, and he said right from the start that he'd had enough. "Three strikes and you're out." Nine years after his third divorce, he's still single as far as I know.

Three months into dating man number two, he began sending me links to blogs that other men had written. The posts went something like this (and I paraphrase): I've got a good job, a great house, wonderful kids, as much sex as I like or need, no debt, no worries, I can do what I want when I want it, and there are no conflicts in my life. Why upset a good life?"

Why indeed. I received about three or four of these links, read them, laughed at the absurdity of some of the comments, and then ... it hit me. Man number two was sending me a message: A strong one. That Christmas I arrived at his house with a truly wonderful gift, but he had none for me. Instead, I received a comic little riff about women who bought useless presents for each other that cluttered the house. Oh, he was funny, but there was a stridency to his tone as he performed his little comic routine. He then commented on the nice manly relationship between Henry Higgins and Colonel Pickering in My Fair Lady, and quoted these lines from "Why Can't a Woman Be More Like a Man?"

Women are irrational, that's all there is to that!
There heads are full of cotton, hay, and rags!
They're nothing but exasperating, irritating,
vacillating, calculating, agitating,
Maddening and infuriating hags!

He went on to quote,

Why can't a woman be more like a man?
Men are so honest, so thoroughly square;
Eternally noble, historic'ly fair;
Who, when you win, will always give your back a pat.
Well, why can't a woman be like that?
Why does ev'ryone do what the others do?
Can't a woman learn to use her head?
Why do they do ev'rything their mothers do?
Why don't they grow up- well, like their father instead?
Why can't a woman take after a man?
Men are so pleasant, so easy to please;
Whenever you are with them, you're always at ease.
Would you be slighted if I didn't speak for hours?
PICKERING
Of course not!
HIGGINS
Would you be livid if I had a drink or two?
PICKERING
Nonsense.
HIGGINS
Would you be wounded if I never sent you flowers?
PICKERING
Never.
HIGGINS
Well, why can't a woman be like you?

I recall plastering a smile on my face, trying to hide my incredible hurt. Then I looked at the gift I'd given him, and said lightly, "Well, if you find gifts women give useless, guess I'll take mine back."

"Oh, no," he said. "I like yours." (It was a gourmet wine opener.)

I left his house feeling deflated and a sense of disquiet. I cried again that Christmas. It was the third time in five years that my heart had been broken in December, and I was beginning to dread that time of year. In fact, I refuse to have another holiday ruined by a man.

Weeks later in one of our last phone conversations he told me how easy I was to get along with. Of course! He had made it plain that there was no future, so I held myself back. He's never realized how many tears I've cried over him, and I'll be damned if I'll ever tell him. Besides, I've been wrestling with the notion that I'm attracted to the wrong kind of man. How else can I explain my dismal record?

So, this is the lesson I gleaned from my former beaus:

All in all, both are quite content living alone. One is neat and tidy; the other's house is a mess. Both love to eat and can cook quite well. They drop everything to be with their children (as they should.) Both care a great deal for their parents. One visits his mother, who lives in a nursing home, two or three times per month in a city three hours away. The other renovated his house so that his father, who is legally blind, could move in with him. He now spends his spare time driving his father everywhere.

These two men are decent and honorable. Both will drop everything to help me if I should ever make the call. They just don't need a woman to make their lives complete. It isn't that I'm so undesirable to be with, or a pushover, (thank God I have no self doubt about myself or my conduct,) it's that every woman these two men have dated since their divorce have been dropped or left dangling. In my case, I lasted four years with one, and three months with the other.

I no longer date. It's too much of a bother. I've also decided I just cannot go through another heartache soon again. I may be dumb, but I'm not stupid. Besides, I have a dog, a lovely home, a career, and as much sex as I want. Sheez! Now I'm sounding just like them. Isn't this world simply crazy?

Here's an interesting article about Some Common Reasons Men Leave Relationships.

Divorce Talk With Men of My Acquaintance, Part One

I encountered two men in their late thirties this week, my insurance agent and a former coworker. Both are going through a divorce. Being men, they said little, keeping a stiff upper lip. Still, I commiserated with them, telling them I understood they were not going through an easy time. Hearing my sympathetic comment, my insurance agent opened up. He'd been married 10 years and had two children. He would have tried to make things work, he said, but his wife was done. She didn't want to continue the marriage. He shared joint custody of the kids and he lived for them. At this stage of his separation, all he could think of was them.

My former coworker had been married for only two years. I could tell from his demeanor that he was the one who left. He was embarrassed about his public failure and hadn't told many people. Despite his decision to leave, I imagine it was still a difficult one. Breaking up is never easy, especially after one has declared to the world, "'Till death us do part."

This news about my former coworker resulted in a conversation with my boss, a man who has been divorced for over 35 years. His one and only marriage lasted only a few months. "Unlike other peoples' responses," he said, "I congratulated him and told him I thought he was brave for leaving an impossible situation and for not attempting to fix something that couldn't be fixed."

Good point, I reluctantly thought, recalling all the pain I felt when my husband told me he was leaving. Then my boss continued, saying how he couldn't understand how marriage truly worked. How anyone could worry about another human's welfare in addition to their own. (Obviously he doesn't have children.) It was tough enough, he said, worrying about losing your own job or being able to pay taxes. Having to worry about a spouse as well doubled the pressure. He had no idea why anyone would want to put their faith and trust in another, open a joint checking account, or purchase joint property, etc. He loved living on his own.

"Living the selfish life," I added, "Doing what I want, when I want, and how I want it."

"Precisely," he said, perking up. "It's very satisfying." He then went on to say how it always irked him that society celebrated successful couples. "How about the single individual successfully living alone? Why aren't they rewarded with praise?"

Indeed, why not? I thought, knowing my boss shirked all parties and get-togethers, and spent most of his free time watching baseball with his two dogs and cats. I have no pat answers to this strange discussion. I was simply happy to get as much from this man as I did. In fact, from now on, quite a few of my posts will center around other middle-aged people's thoughts about divorce, marriage, and the single life. So stay tuned. Meanwhile, here are two links for a man going through divorce. No matter what sex you are, the process is tough.

• Divorce: A Man's Survival Guide

• Here's an old interview by Bill Ritter, but current in thought and feeling. Men After Divorce/Walkaway Wives

Part II of this post will describe a conversation with another divorced man. Like Henry Higgins from My Fair Lady, he needs no women to make him happy.

Cleaning files

I am going through old files today to make way for storage space, and encountered the papers I kept of the days, weeks, and months after my separation from Bob. It is eerie to read the almost desperate attempts I made to save my marriage; it hardens my heart to see the cool and indifferent responses from my former spouse. I now understand what sort of calculated waiting game he played with me.

All these events occurred during 2000. Interestingly, yesterday was my wedding anniversary. I was married on a Saturday on September 15, 1973. Like yesterday, the day started out with a drizzle and ended up clear, sunny, and warm. This was important, for we were married outdoors.

Thankfully I had made plans to be with my family yesterday. I shed no tears. My therapist told me it would take five years to completely heal, and she was right. Last year I had a similar cool response when I traveled with a girlfriend to Paris. So for those of you who think that the memories will haunt you forever, take heart. Time and distance do heal all wounds.

Sister Links of Strength

Two blogs I'd like to direct you to are written by women (younger than me) who are also going through periods of vast upheaval and transition. Their blogs are beautifully written personal accounts of overcoming pain and anguish. In fact, I'm tagging them, asking them to identify two or three blogs that they visit regularly and that are written by people who are going through a painful transition as well. The only requirement is that the blogs they identify are also written in a positive tone. They should be absent of spiteful posts.

For Sister Links of Strength, I've tagged:

Mom of 3, who resides in Boston. She writes about Finding My Way, in which she embarks on a personal journey of growth and discovery as she and her husband are separating.

Iona Fiona: Tales from the post marital quagmire views the world in an unflinchingly honest way. I am always surprised when I visit Iona's blog, and in turn feel supported by her. Her site is well worth a visit!

Little Girls Whose Daddies Leave Them

Little girls whose daddies leave them

...know it's all their fault.

...yearn for their daddies to come back.

...search for their daddies, sometimes all their lives.

...will do anything to get their daddies back.

...find substitute daddies, even in bad places.

...try to be good girls, even though they really think they are bad.

...have a hard time saying no.

...think they have a flaw that made their daddies leave.

...will do everything in their power to keep their new daddies (husbands.)

...will find fault with themselves over their daddies.

...might seem tough on the outside, but they are bruised on the inside.

...have a hard time trusting anyone.

...enter co-dependent relationships when they grow up.









I am a child of divorce. This was how I felt. This was how I reacted emotionally to men. Did I miss anything?

Facing your anniversary alone

My wedding anniversary is coming up. I spent my first wedding anniversary alone crying. It would have been our 27th year as man and wife. We were still married, but Bob had already gotten engaged to someone else.

I was caught off guard by the sheer force of emotions, and I clung to my bewildered dog all night long, crying so hard and so long that my eyes and voice were raw for days. The next year (on what would have been my 28th anniversary) I was in a serious relationship. It didn't occur to me to protect myself. Inexplicably, I spent that day alone also, and once again my emotions overwhelmed me.
I was prepared the third year, and planned a weekend with friends. I've planned something on my anniversary every year since then. Last year, I flew to Paris. This year Mom and Dad will be joining me. We are going to tackle the rest of my garage, throwing out the last vestiges of Bob's possessions, and clearing out the clutter that represents my hanging on to old memories and the past. These possessions and memorabilia have been bogging me down, slowing my ability to store new things and using my house to the fullest.

Letting go. This has been my theme for a few months now. I am finally starting to cut all the connections that are holding me back. Some day I will regard the date of my anniversary as just another day.

This article, Coping With Tragedy from the National Empowerment Center, was written to help people cope with a traumatic event, such as after a hurricane. I found the advice to be pertinent to my situation as well.

Letting Go

Some of the hardest post divorce task I've had to tackle have been in the areas of 'Letting Go.'

First, I had to let go of material things.
Days after Bob moved out of the house, I stopped the lawn service, discontinued the wine of the month club, beer of the month club, and dinners out. I checked books and videos out of the library and joined Price Club. I waited for sales before making purchases, and for the first time I set foot in the Dollar Store and Tuesday Morning. I began to frequent Goodwill and Salvation Army stores, and scour yard sales. I even shopped at Wal*Mart regularly. Slowly but steadily I stopped paying retail and studied wholesale prices. I had no choice.

Second, I had to learn to let go of former dreams.
We had plans to build a lake house on some lake property we had just purchased. I had dreams of getting my novels published. A more immediate dream had been to visit Hawaii. All these had to be swept aside as I concentrated on emotional and financial survival.

Third, I had to let go of my former friendships.
Oh, I kept most of our friends, but the nature of those friendships changed. All of a sudden I found myself living in a largely female world. Where before Bob and I would go out as a couple, now I would meet my girlfriends for lunch. Since my divorce I've seen some of the men I used to see weekly only six or seven times. While those "couple" friends would invite single men to their parties, dinners, and get-togethers, I seldom got asked to attend them as a single woman. I had to let go of my anger and disappointment towards those friends. They were treating me in a different way. I could either accept this or move on and find a new, close circle of friends who were not intimidated by my single state. I chose to move on, connecting with old friends less often and concentrating on my new life.

Fourth, I needed to let go of the anger.
This has been the hardest task. I haven't completely forgiven Bob for giving up on "us" or forgotten some of the hateful things he said, but I have placed him far down the list of people who matter. Consequently, my anger about the divorce has lessened. I found this one thing to be true: It is impossible to love someone you don't respect. Once I lost my respect for Bob, my love for him disappeared. Once I stopped loving him, I could let go of him and most of my anger.

Fifth, I needed to stop thinking of myself as a failure.
Through 6 years of dating and 26 years of marriage I did my best. I loved Bob with all my heart. In my mind I was a good and devoted wife. Yes, my faults and actions contributed to the demise of the marriage, but I did the best I could given my background as a child of divorce and his seasonal depressions. Once I stopped thinking of myself as having failed at marriage, and once I stopped beating myself up, the healing started.

Read more on this topic:

Coping: Letting Go of Anger

Divorce Support Forum: Letting Go of Anger

Strategies to Cope With Anger After Divorce