Blushy

A few weeks ago I went back and reread our wedding vows.

It was a dumb idea, but I was looking for . . . something. Some indication of what was about to come, some hint that I loved my husband more than he loved me, some inkling that he was lying when he promised to hang on with me through the hard stuff.

It was counterproductive. I knew that even as I was searching through my documents for the final copy. There was no way I could learn anything new about the person I had been with for years by staring at something we built in our best, most optimistic place.

I thought divorce and therapy and ruminating on the people we were would help me discover something new about what happened to us. It didn’t. It just confirmed what I already knew.

He wasn’t the person I needed him to be.

* * *

I had two goals for myself when my husband moved out.

Of course I did. I had a new five-year plan the week after he left. I’m a grant-writer. My religion is measurable outcomes and SMART goals.

The first was relatively simple. Be an adult. Treat the husband with kindness where I could and respect where I couldn’t. Avoiding airing dirty laundry to mutual friends or family. Provide prompt replies to requests for information. As much as you may want to, don’t smash or steal any of his stuff (leaving the special edition blu-ray of the original Alien trilogy behind was my greatest test).

That part has been easy enough. (He may have other feelings about this, who knows). I’m still on good terms with his family. When people ask “What happened?!” I say that it was complicated and I’d rather not talk about it. I apply the “is it true, is it kind, is it necessary” test to everything I say outside of my shrink’s office. He still owns the Alien trilogy.

I’m not perfect. I have days where I fantasize about smashing all of his shit with a baseball bat or breaking back into the apartment and erasing all of his saved Breath of the Wild data. I left Alien but I took Silence of the Lambs.

I’m trying.

* * *

I have a crush on someone.

Of all of the things I expected to happen after the husband and I separated, this was absolutely not one of them. Having to hide my cell phone from myself so I don’t text an “I miss you?” Yup, sounds about right. Not being able to sleep because I’m up armchair psychologizing about what went wrong. Duh. Crying uncontrollably while organizing my spice rack? Unexpected, but not out of the realm of possibility.

But an actual, stomach-swoopy, blushy, can’t-make-eye-contact, feel like a sixteen year old crush?

Jesus. What kind of a person am I? I don’t even have my divorce papers yet and I’m already feeling like a dumb kid, mooning over someone else. Am I incapable of being alone for two months without immediately looking for someone new?

This isn’t the person I wanted to be.

* * *

The second goal was to come through the divorce with an open, warm, and trusting heart.

I’ve lived my life as a pretty warm and open-hearted person. Not necessarily as a result of trying, but because that’s just the kind of personality I was lucky enough to get. It’s something I really like about myself and wanted to be the retain in the midst of a shitstorm of anger, despair, and bitterness.

It’s hard because it’s not really the kind of thing I can gauge in the moment. It’s easy to look at my actions and say: “I didn’t smash my husband’s signed-by-George-Takei-Enterprise-Model on the way out the door. Well done.” In the midst of the previously mentioned shitstorm of emotions it’s harder to say “I’m as accepting, warm, and loving as I was four years ago.”

The best measurement I’ve come up with so far is looking at how I’m treating myself. I’m pretty fucking hard on myself, so can I just calm the fuck down and see a stupid, stomach-swoopy, blushy crush as just that, and not some kind of a reflection on my character?

Because all that stuff, the ruminating and therapy and inappropriately-timed-crushes can show me what I was hoping to find in my wedding vows; what I’m hoping for from the goals I set for myself during this whole miserable process.

I can be the person I need myself to be.