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Moving On

Our divorce was final this week – a bittersweet transition after 9 years together and 5 years of marriage.  I remain grateful that we maintain friendship – and are able to spend time together doing fun things.  As I captioned: Perchance another place, another time –

2009 At A Friend’s Wedding

This is the third marriage ending for me.  I think I just don’t do this thing called relationships well.

Granted, when my kid’s dad passed away, that was a different sort of ending.   But the fact is, our 25 years together (1966 – 1992) were challenged.  Deeply in what we felt was love (at 16 and 18), we rallied against those who were concerned.  Some of those concerns proved to have a basis.  He was troubled then – struggled with abandonment issues and anger management issues.  Family issues went from bad to worse.  It’s another whole blog on dysfunctional people in relationships.  There was no doubt we loved each other through those 25 years, but had I been wiser I would have cut and run with my (our) kids well before our lives emploded.  I will never know if we would have gotten him help for serious mental health issues, or if we ultimately would have gone our separate ways – and if we would have managed to remain friends.

Then it was the “brainfart marriage” admittedly out of a need (not want) to be in a relationship – to be part of a couple – four years later … to an alcoholic addict.  We were married for nine years before I refused to continue the charade of a marriage which ended in 2007.   We did manage through the divorce civily and remained friends for a while, though we haven’t talked in over two years.

I thought I had found my eureka with #3 – and over the last 8 years there have been ups and downs; growth and maybe even a little regression?  We finally fell apart when my adult son with genetic mental health issues (from his dad) came home from 17  adult years of being self sufficient, employed, self educated, in a puddle of bi-polar disorder, empending divorce and a thrashed sense of self.  For the first time in his adult life he needed the secuirty of home. Hubby didn’t (doesn’t) understand the complications of mental illness and I gave up expecting him to.  But my truth is that I need to deal with my family issues right now.  Though I would have hoped he would, I hold no malice that he doesn’t get it.  It’s ok.

We are friends, we love each other – it’s just not the time right now.  Perchance – another time, another place.