Two Steps Forward, One Step Back
On Having Room to Struggle
It is the middle of July and I say without hesitation that summer is kicking my ass from every direction. Being an adult has felt like a humbling experience for what seems like years now. As I struggle to make sense of what it means to be alive in this world, in this place, in this particular moment of history, in motherhood, I reconcile with the fact that all human beings have grappled with the deep groundlessness that I feel.
There is a certain searing sense of humiliation I feel to be struggling so much one-ish years out from divorce*, which I realize is quite likely unrealistic of me to be putting on myself. Still I feel it stalking me every day, trailing three steps behind me like an overcast sky. *(Divorce timelines are always so difficult to delineate. Do we use the date we decided verbally that it was done? The date, months later, he moved out? The date we split bank accounts? The date we signed the dissolution papers? In any case, it’s been eleven months since we separated homes and about nineteen since we agreed it was over.)
Social norms surrounding divorce vary greatly based on religion, geography, family, etc., but in my experience, I wasn’t welcomed with much understanding in the wake of my marriage ending. I felt framed as the one responsible, the “initiator” which really just means I had been the one who insisted we kept talking about our problems, and that talking eventually led to divorce. I feel the burn of how many outsiders to my marriage perceived me as the ungrateful and unstable tragedy that ruined the picture-perfection of my family. Now, I feel a crushing burden to make it, to seem happy, to establish a life that is different from my former one to say, “See? I really was unhappy, and now I’m so much better.”
In the midst of that crushing pressure, walking through the middle land of not-in-my-old-life but not-quite-in-my-settled-new-life, I am (Of course! Quite naturally!) struggling. I struggle to make sense of who I am now, where I am going, what I am capable of. I struggle to believe in myself, after all that I’ve lost for believing myself in the first place. I struggle to tend to the most necessary healing while simultaneously forging a plan to be the breadwinner of my household. I struggle to understand the social and familial rules that quietly go to work after divorce, insisting on social borders I don’t understand. I struggle to watch the way my children’s lives have changed with no real consent of their own, even though I’ve done every imaginable thing I can think of to hold them up and walk them through it with love. I struggle to watch other people parent my children when I want so desperately to do so myself. Sometimes, everything feels like two steps forward, one step back.
Maybe you also have felt a bit run into the ground later, or like no matter what you can’t quite get your chin over the surface of the water. If you are, you wouldn’t be close to the only one. So often, people ask me why or how I am so willing to bare the weaker sides of myself so publicly and for me the answer is two fold. First, it comes quite naturally to me, but more importantly, I’m always, always met with a sea of people who tell me I’ve put words to just what they are feeling, I’ve put a hand in theirs at just the moment they were sure they were alone and failing. Everywhere I turn lately, I see people struggling, or at least quietly nodding to me as I bare my struggles, sending worlds “me too” with their eyes.
So I water the soil and pull the weeds, again. So I wrap the wounds, again. So I lie myself down and shush myself like an infant, again. So I let myself be held by the ones who love me, again. So I remember that life is nothing but one foot in front of the other, and the hands we hold while we do it, and the views we take in as we go. Last week, my dad told me I’m struggling because I’ve propped up an ideal in my mind of what my life should look like, at this point in time. But ideals aren’t real, he told me. They’re just a thing we make up. What we have is reality. What we have is in front of us, and it’s real. We must put the ideals to bed and live what we have, not strive for a mirage. And what we have, while sloppy, while confusing, while painful, is also quite beautiful, joyful, nourishing, if we’d just allow it to be.
So, a benediction. May we move forward with more gentleness toward our own broken hearts, more levity for our struggles, more eyes for the joys and provision laid out before us, however small. May we hold the confusion with the beauty, with no judgement for any of it, may we accept, may we accept, may we accept.
Sending you love on your path.
XO, Jolie
p.s. The most commonly asked question I get in terms of divorce is “How did you know?” so, in the next publication for paid subscribers, I’m going to talk about my experience with knowing and intuition in regards to divorce, and what my breaking point looked like. Much of my writing is free, but I do release paid content only for $5 a month that is a bit more personal, if you are interested. Thank you so much for being here!