"Do you want the plunger?" he said.
I cocked my head, not expecting the offer. "Well, yes, actually. There is one at my new apartment, but it's not a good one.."
"Yeah, take it...."
"Thanks! Thank you. Yeah, okay." I appreciated the kindness.
We both had liked that plunger. One of the most expensive items in the bathroom, but totally worth the price for the extra heavy duty black rubber, with corrugated design and good gripping, non-splinter handle. Just one of those things in life that makes it easier when things go awry.
What happened to the marriage plunger, I wonder? To push out all that shit that kept stopping up our ability to love one another? We kept getting splinters in our hands every time we tried harder, because somehow harder just seemed to compact our feelings more, into wadded cesspools of bitterness and angst. Nothing flowed in either of our lives as we awaited the other to roto-rooter our way around the muck.
We hoped, I'm sure, that somewhere along the line, surely...surely, the debris would dissipate and we'd discover somewhere how all the mistakes made couldn't possibly culminate in the failure of an 11 year marriage. We weren't quitters. We weren't failures.
And yet...are you not a failure if you fail to recognize that you are not contributing to the health of your own marriage any more? Are you not being the most compassionate and caring human being possible by letting go of this person who can most certainly find someone to take care of them better than you can. In the end, it hasn't been as much about a failed marriage as a failure to let it go much, much sooner so that both of us could explore life in a more fulfilling, less muck-filled way.
So, here we are, finally, after many attempts and plunging the hell out of our marriage - here we are splitting up the "stuff" of our joint life. Let me tell you...it's an odd feeling.
"You bought that trash can, I bought this one...we'll each take one." Fair deal, not complicated. But, really, just having to worry about splitting up trashcans is simultaneously mundane and earth shattering.
"So...", he holds up the fine toothed cat brush. I see that the Zoom Groom brush has already been laid on my pile. "So, do you want this one?" I can tell he'd like to keep it. "You can have it, no problem, especially since you'll have Ming with all that hair." Another even trade.
It literally took 15 minutes to go through the house to split it up. We don't have much, but we also lived a rather equitable life. Which, in retrospect, I do not suggest. Because if you are going to share a life with someone...then share it. Wholly. When you play at marriage, even-Steven, like you would with your siblings...it creates a distance and doesn't promote having true shared decisions about your life goals. And therein lies the problem. Maintain your life vision with one another; in fact, make it quotidien. Without that constant check-in, then your goals, your lives, start to diverge.
Ah, roadblock. "Hmm, well, I want the printer and fire box, but I suppose I can do without them right now. I suppose. I'm sure you want those?"
"Thanks for the reminder, I forgot about the fire box. Hmmmm," he contemplates. "Well, you can have the futon if I can take those...," He barters.
"Yup, deal," I sighed. Otherwise I wouldn't have anywhere for people to sit that visited my new, tiny duplex in the green-green grasses of the happy suburbia neighborhood to which I am moving. That would have been embarrassing. People aren't as happy sitting on a yoga mat in the middle of a hardwood floor as I am. It would have just been "eccentric" or "frugal" or, worse yet, "poor woman, she's divorced at 40 and **hushed tones** a bit poor".
"You want the scrubby sponges?" These were the ones with the long handle. Almost 5 bucks each, so yes, yes I wanted those since the duplex has no dishwasher. Life was about to really change without a dishwasher. But at least I got the scrubby sponges for those hard to reach areas.
It all seemed so absurd. I'll take one roll of paper towels, you take the cloth napkins without the fringe because you always hated the fringe. Dad gifted you the flat screen one Christmas, so it really is yours...I can't watch much TV while in grad school anyway. And, oh yeah, I can't afford cable anymore because I have to pay a full rent.
"Can I have...well, can I have the plate we got for our wedding..." from one of his friends who painted it herself. It's always been my favorite serving plate. And it's one of the things engraved with both our names...but it's on the bottom. It's a good plate! I don't believe in ditching any and everything that would remind me of my soon-to-be-x-husband. We've shared 13 years of our lives together and taught each other many thing for which I know I am grateful. We were best friends once. You don't have to erase those good memories in order to move on.
And there's been great kindness especially in this week when I am finally moving out. What a journey for us both over many years. I, personally, had to take a lot of time to find out how I contributed to the unhealthy partnership. My bitterness and anger clouded my mind for many years. God really didn't want me to move on until I could see so clearly what my hand had been in changing the dynamics of our marriage and led to the spiral down the drain. We were both culpable. Once I embraced that...I could start to forgive both of us and see our diverging paths taking us to more enjoyable and fulfilling lives.
I reached for the pepper and salt grinders. I pulled my hand back. Of all the things in the kitchen, these had been his favorite things. I'll add them to my "Want" list, I thought, which was steadily growing and well beyond affordable as I contemplated new Internet installation service fees, rent many times higher than my half of the mortgage, cat care for my half of the pride, and all the dark chocolate and Nutella I would need to buy throughout the transition period.
No...leaving the grinders was a kindness I wanted to extend. We are both good people. We knew on the day of our wedding that it was the absolute right thing to do. God had a plan for us and it included each other...we just didn't know it would be temporary. We aren't quite ready to let that kindness leave our lives either...because we've both offered help much more this past week than we have in months.
"Do you have dish washing liquid?" He asked and contemplated his detailed list, something I always admired because it made our lives thorough and prepared.
"Yes, actually a lot because I bought some and then there was still some in the apartment," I explained.
He was getting ready to go as I packed my second load - it will take me a week to get thoroughly moved out. He looked at me kindly, a little sadly as he explained he had to go now. Kind of a longer look, because he knew there was something I wasn't thinking of that I would need later but forget to get at the store on my way to the apartment. Because he does know many things about me so well, and I presume no one else ever will. Yet he holds back because its not his responsibility anymore to try to improve my preparedness for whatever my day holds. And we are jointly sad about that.
The plunger of life saved us both for some exciting and fulfilling things ahead, I have no doubt. I grabbed the real, super-duper toilet bowl plunger and tossed it on the passenger side. It'll be one of the more expensive items in my apartment. And it sure will make my life easier sometimes. And I'll thank my former husband for that.
I cocked my head, not expecting the offer. "Well, yes, actually. There is one at my new apartment, but it's not a good one.."
"Yeah, take it...."
"Thanks! Thank you. Yeah, okay." I appreciated the kindness.
We both had liked that plunger. One of the most expensive items in the bathroom, but totally worth the price for the extra heavy duty black rubber, with corrugated design and good gripping, non-splinter handle. Just one of those things in life that makes it easier when things go awry.
What happened to the marriage plunger, I wonder? To push out all that shit that kept stopping up our ability to love one another? We kept getting splinters in our hands every time we tried harder, because somehow harder just seemed to compact our feelings more, into wadded cesspools of bitterness and angst. Nothing flowed in either of our lives as we awaited the other to roto-rooter our way around the muck.
We hoped, I'm sure, that somewhere along the line, surely...surely, the debris would dissipate and we'd discover somewhere how all the mistakes made couldn't possibly culminate in the failure of an 11 year marriage. We weren't quitters. We weren't failures.
And yet...are you not a failure if you fail to recognize that you are not contributing to the health of your own marriage any more? Are you not being the most compassionate and caring human being possible by letting go of this person who can most certainly find someone to take care of them better than you can. In the end, it hasn't been as much about a failed marriage as a failure to let it go much, much sooner so that both of us could explore life in a more fulfilling, less muck-filled way.
So, here we are, finally, after many attempts and plunging the hell out of our marriage - here we are splitting up the "stuff" of our joint life. Let me tell you...it's an odd feeling.
"You bought that trash can, I bought this one...we'll each take one." Fair deal, not complicated. But, really, just having to worry about splitting up trashcans is simultaneously mundane and earth shattering.
"So...", he holds up the fine toothed cat brush. I see that the Zoom Groom brush has already been laid on my pile. "So, do you want this one?" I can tell he'd like to keep it. "You can have it, no problem, especially since you'll have Ming with all that hair." Another even trade.
It literally took 15 minutes to go through the house to split it up. We don't have much, but we also lived a rather equitable life. Which, in retrospect, I do not suggest. Because if you are going to share a life with someone...then share it. Wholly. When you play at marriage, even-Steven, like you would with your siblings...it creates a distance and doesn't promote having true shared decisions about your life goals. And therein lies the problem. Maintain your life vision with one another; in fact, make it quotidien. Without that constant check-in, then your goals, your lives, start to diverge.
Ah, roadblock. "Hmm, well, I want the printer and fire box, but I suppose I can do without them right now. I suppose. I'm sure you want those?"
"Thanks for the reminder, I forgot about the fire box. Hmmmm," he contemplates. "Well, you can have the futon if I can take those...," He barters.
"Yup, deal," I sighed. Otherwise I wouldn't have anywhere for people to sit that visited my new, tiny duplex in the green-green grasses of the happy suburbia neighborhood to which I am moving. That would have been embarrassing. People aren't as happy sitting on a yoga mat in the middle of a hardwood floor as I am. It would have just been "eccentric" or "frugal" or, worse yet, "poor woman, she's divorced at 40 and **hushed tones** a bit poor".
"You want the scrubby sponges?" These were the ones with the long handle. Almost 5 bucks each, so yes, yes I wanted those since the duplex has no dishwasher. Life was about to really change without a dishwasher. But at least I got the scrubby sponges for those hard to reach areas.
It all seemed so absurd. I'll take one roll of paper towels, you take the cloth napkins without the fringe because you always hated the fringe. Dad gifted you the flat screen one Christmas, so it really is yours...I can't watch much TV while in grad school anyway. And, oh yeah, I can't afford cable anymore because I have to pay a full rent.
"Can I have...well, can I have the plate we got for our wedding..." from one of his friends who painted it herself. It's always been my favorite serving plate. And it's one of the things engraved with both our names...but it's on the bottom. It's a good plate! I don't believe in ditching any and everything that would remind me of my soon-to-be-x-husband. We've shared 13 years of our lives together and taught each other many thing for which I know I am grateful. We were best friends once. You don't have to erase those good memories in order to move on.
And there's been great kindness especially in this week when I am finally moving out. What a journey for us both over many years. I, personally, had to take a lot of time to find out how I contributed to the unhealthy partnership. My bitterness and anger clouded my mind for many years. God really didn't want me to move on until I could see so clearly what my hand had been in changing the dynamics of our marriage and led to the spiral down the drain. We were both culpable. Once I embraced that...I could start to forgive both of us and see our diverging paths taking us to more enjoyable and fulfilling lives.
I reached for the pepper and salt grinders. I pulled my hand back. Of all the things in the kitchen, these had been his favorite things. I'll add them to my "Want" list, I thought, which was steadily growing and well beyond affordable as I contemplated new Internet installation service fees, rent many times higher than my half of the mortgage, cat care for my half of the pride, and all the dark chocolate and Nutella I would need to buy throughout the transition period.
No...leaving the grinders was a kindness I wanted to extend. We are both good people. We knew on the day of our wedding that it was the absolute right thing to do. God had a plan for us and it included each other...we just didn't know it would be temporary. We aren't quite ready to let that kindness leave our lives either...because we've both offered help much more this past week than we have in months.
"Do you have dish washing liquid?" He asked and contemplated his detailed list, something I always admired because it made our lives thorough and prepared.
"Yes, actually a lot because I bought some and then there was still some in the apartment," I explained.
He was getting ready to go as I packed my second load - it will take me a week to get thoroughly moved out. He looked at me kindly, a little sadly as he explained he had to go now. Kind of a longer look, because he knew there was something I wasn't thinking of that I would need later but forget to get at the store on my way to the apartment. Because he does know many things about me so well, and I presume no one else ever will. Yet he holds back because its not his responsibility anymore to try to improve my preparedness for whatever my day holds. And we are jointly sad about that.
The plunger of life saved us both for some exciting and fulfilling things ahead, I have no doubt. I grabbed the real, super-duper toilet bowl plunger and tossed it on the passenger side. It'll be one of the more expensive items in my apartment. And it sure will make my life easier sometimes. And I'll thank my former husband for that.
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