Sometimes your tribe finds you

Today would be my 8th wedding anniversary had my divorce not become final in May after a long, amicable, yet emotional separation.  It was both sad and liberating to realize that I didn’t even remember until the Faceyspace reminded me.  I woke up to a text from my best friend asking how I was “holding up today” and wasn’t sure what she meant – particularly given that she’s the one going through some turmoil right now.  I responded generically with thinly veiled confusion (we share a brain, she can’t be fooled) then opened fb to a photographic reminder of that sunny SoCal afternoon and her meaning was clear.

 

I had a fleeting pang of sadness, but if I’m being completely honest, for once I didn’t feel a whole lot of anything at all.  Not specific emotions at least.  There are still several hours left in the day in which it could hit me upside the head, but I’m choosing instead to believe I’ve reached that point of repair where the glue has set and the cracks are sealed.  I can still have those moments of sadness or loneliness or regret, but mostly I happily accept it as a chapter meant to be lived and closed. There’s no denying it was lived well – with the massive host of spectacular (and not so) memories to go along with it.

What strikes me as most ironic about today however is my evening yoga date with my newly-married friend S.  Four or five years ago (who can remember?) she was one of a small circle of women who sat on the floor of our then-gym after a circus class (stay with me here, we can talk about circus later) and let me cry tears that desperately needed spill.  They let me lament the vast difference between my hopes and my reality without judgment or suggestion.  To my recollection, they didn’t try to drag my ex-husband down or cast him in a negative light because they instinctively knew that wasn’t what I needed in the moment. Instead, they lifted me – telling me I deserved understanding, appreciation, and gratitude – not just on my anniversary but every day.  They wanted to see me happy and had no intention of imposing their definitions of happy onto mine.

These were women I’d only known a short time – less time than I’d been married in fact – but they knew.  They knew that making me feel worthy and strong and loved in that situation would go the distance rather than defaming the person causing me pain in the moment.  Because the hurt and actions (or lack thereof in this case) would fade into the ether that is my craptastic memory, but judgment or doubt would stick.  I had enough of my own judgment and doubt.  What I needed and received that night without realizing at the time, was support for me as an individual who knew what she needed but didn’t know how to ask for it in a productive manner.  A manner that would be received by the man who, admittedly, always wanted to make me happy, but also didn’t know how because our emotional needs were as different as our communication styles.  Half a decade later I’m still working on that, but I credit those incredible women who barely knew me for stopping my hasty exit, sitting me down and letting me cry it out in their company rather than allowing me to go home and cry it out alone.  They just knew, and to this day I don’t know what I’d do without them.  So here’s to a different sort of anniversary; that of friendship, having each other’s backs, and all the wishes and dreams we can create.