There’s Been A Divorce. Who Gets The Friends?

“That, whereas, the parties hereto will divide the once mutual friendships as follows…”

How much easier and comforting it would be if we knew who got the friends in a divorce. No hassles. A little haggling. But you’d know who you could count on and who you no longer couldn’t.

But that isn’t how it happens. There isn’t a judge or written agreement that chooses who will maintain a friendship with one and not the other. It happens more organically. The choosing of sides.

And sometimes, neither side is chosen. As lives shift and shuffle, friendships simply disappear in a divorce.

In my many years on this planet, I’ve realized a few things:

1. Friendships are essential.
2. Most friendships are fleeting.
3. The friendships that have staying power are rare.

When I divorced, oh so many years ago, I was stunned with who stuck around and who disappeared. The ones I expected to be with me through thick and thin began to drift away. It wasn’t sudden. I didn’t feel like a leper. But one day, I realized we hadn’t spoken in a while, conversations were slightly uncomfortable, they weren’t the first person I’d reach out to for a giggle or a cry. And then? Nothing. No contact for years.

No longer friends.

And while I’m okay with losing a few of those people, there’s one friend in particular that I miss. Terribly. I feel a little hole where her friendship used to be.

But then, there is a dear friend, who rose to the occasion, has put in more than I deserved at times, to stay friends. A rare diamond of a friendship that I treasure.

It’s made me wonder. What kind of a friend will I be?

If 50% of all marriages end in divorce, and most of my friends are still married, odds are I’ll have to chose sides someday. (If you are one of my friends reading this right now, don’t worry. You are in one of the marriages that is going to make it. I’m talking about the other 50% of my friendships.) 

We’ll probably stay friends with the husband in at least one couples friendship. The wives in the other few. A morbid line of thought, but reality all the same. It won’t be easy. It won’t be pleasant. It’s just the inevitable.

I wish there was a fair, equitable and comfortable way to divvy up the friendships after a divorce. A method where everyone agrees and everyone is happy. Something finite. Something you can count on.

But there isn’t.

When there is a divorce, the friendships are casualties in a uncomfortable war. Sometimes you know immediately who will stick with whom. Sometimes there are surprises.

But it is rarely clean and clear cut.

It’s often messy.

And always sad.

Kind of like the divorce that got us there in the first place.

 

 

Divorce: Standing Alone In The Wreck

If I could have a regret in my life that is wrapped up in a wonderful gift it would be my first marriage. All by itself, I regret that marriage. Oh sure, I learned so much about myself. I grew. I became a better person.

And most of all, I received an amazing, wonderful, beautiful daughter. If the way she had to come to be was through that marriage, fine. I accept it. But I don’t have to like it.

Because I hate what she has had to go through. I hate what it’s done to her self-esteem. I hate the choices she has had to make because of the split. All because I chose him for her dad.

When I was going through the divorce my attorney advised me on many things. She predicted things that would come to be and I nodded. Not in agreement. Because my ex would never, ever do the things she described. Never. Ever. (Insert wry laugh here.)

Boy. Was I wrong.

I have watched my beautiful daughter experience such dysfunction. Promises broken. Lies told. A step-mother who is insanely jealous. A woman who treats my daughter like “the other woman.” Since she was 6 years old she has had to keep secret any activity with her father that doesn’t involve her step-mother. Every movie. Every ice cream cone. Every shopping trip.

Recently, we have been weathering an amazing storm. A situation I never dreamed would happen. Out of respect for my daughter, I won’t air the dirty details. But it has ripped my daughter to the core. She wants to change her name. She wants to never see him again. She feels abandoned and unappreciated. And what tears my heart apart is that she feels unimportant, unworthy and unloved by him.

If I could go back and change something, anything – I would. Quite honestly, I have no idea what I’d change. If it means me not being her mother, I would sacrifice that for her to be treated better by a father. I only want the best for her.

And she doesn’t deserve this.

She deserves so much better.

Al and Tipper? Old News. Apparently, RAOK Is All The Rage.

The first time I was ever featured on WordPress’s Freshly Pressed page I had written a post, two months ago, on the fly, about the Tipper and Al divorce. Just a quick little observation about my impressions of marriage, divorce and media attention. Hits to my blog sky-rocketed. And a whopping 61 comments. 61! I had never generated so much buzz.

Then, I go away for the weekend. Not wanting to let my blog sit dormant, I re-printed a post from December. Just a sweet, little post about my commitment (or lack thereof) to Random Acts of Kindness. Freshly Pressed picked me up again as a featured blog post.

The attention has been astounding.

Simply.

Astounding.

And by astounding, I mean mind-boggling.

I’m standing here speechless. No, make that flummoxed.

The hits? Off the charts doesn’t even begin to describe. And the comments? 209 at last count. And that doesn’t even include all the spam or comments I deleted. (But will make for excellent post material at a later date. Stay tuned!)

A little post about how I tried to make someone’s day with an unexpected surprise. And how I felt guilty not doing it more. Or giving more in that particular moment.

People crawled out of the woodwork, threw down their lurker status and commented in droves. Or they commented on their own blogs and linked back here. Or they cut and paste my post and used it for their blog. (Which I’m still wrestling with the ethics of that, but again, a topic for another post.)

Or they criticized my actions. (But that, too, will be for another post.)

A simple, $3.18 gesture and I’m sitting high on the shoulders of my fellow bloggers and being paraded around Blog World.

A hero.

And isn’t that a little sad? I’m glad a story about paying it forward garnered more attention than a high-profile divorce, don’t get me wrong. But the shock and awe of how a small act of kindness can make such a difference surprises me.

And makes me pause and think and wonder…what if I were more deliberate in my good deeds? What if I challenged myself  to commit at least one RAOK a day, every day. How hard could it be?

So, forget about the challenge I posed to everyone about committing a random act of kindness over the weekend. I’m upping the ante. This isn’t going to be an “every once in a while thing” for me anymore. I’m going to challenge myself to commit a minimum of one RAOK each week. I will post about my successes and inevitable failures (because, contrary to popular opinion right now, I AM human) on a separate tab section of this blog. (No need to start another blog about this issue. There are plenty out there.)

You can join me. You can read and see what I do. You can be inspired all over again. Or, you can criticize what I deem a RAOK.

I don’t care.

I do know that whatever happens I will be a more fulfilled, positive force in this universe.

And a better example to my children.

And that’s all that matters.

Don’t forget! Write your post about blogging to help me celebrate my one year in Blog World. We’ll all meet back here in 3 days (August 13) to link, learn and maybe have a few laughs!

Al And Tipper. John and Jane. We’re All Fighting Some Kind Of Battle.

 I’ve made it no secret that I’ve been married before. I hesitate to call my first marriage a mistake because an amazing daughter came of it. And if it hadn’t have been for my first marriage, I wouldn’t be the seasoned wife that I am today. (You’re welcome, Honey!)

Since I am in a second marriage, I feel I make an extra effort to make it work. I am more than committed to my husband. I am also keenly aware that the grass isn’t greener, just different.

So it disheartens, discourages, just plain disappoints when I hear of long marriages dissolving.

Al and Tipper Gore, after 40 years of marriage, are separating.

I don’t know Al and Tipper. Never been invited to their home. Never attended the same social gathering. All I know about them is what I’ve seen, heard or read in the media. They’ve passed the two typical milestones when couples divorce: seven-year-itch and when the youngest child goes off to college.

Hearing of their separation makes me sad. According to their email to friends and family they “grew apart.” After 40 years.

I suppose I’m a romantic. I’d like to think that after 40 years of marriage a married couple has weathered the worst. Found ways to make the-once-endearing-but-now-annoying-habits tolerable. Discovered new joys about each partner.

When I divorced, I lost friends. Phone calls and invitations slowed. As if divorce were contagious. The shift in friendships bothered me. Still bothers me. Which is why I’m hyper-sensitive when someone is going through similar struggles.

“Everyone you meet is fighting some kind of battle.”

Al and Tipper. John and Jane. The teacher and the artist. The lawyer and stay at home mom.

Struggling. Battling. Some winning, some losing.

All of you are in my heart today.

Holding you close.

Hoping for peace and strength.

(On a lighter note: Answers from yesterday’s music challenge: 1. “Spare him his life from this monstrosity” – Bohemian Rhapsody, Queen 2. “Shake it like a Polaroid Picture” – Hey Ya, Outkast 3. “Smoke on the water, fire in the sky” Smoke On The Water, Deep Purple 4. “A loaded God complex” – Sugar, We’re Going Down, Fall Out Boy 5. “It’s too late to apologize” – Apologize, OneRepublic 6. “See that girl, watch that scene, dig in the dancing queen” – Dancing Queen, ABBA 7. “Hold me closer, tiny dancer” – Tiny Dancer, Elton John. 8. “Hit me with your best shot” – Hit Me With Your Best Shot – Pat Benatar 9. “Got my mind set on you” – Got My Mind Set On You, George Harrison 10. “It doesn’t make a difference if we make it or not” – Livin’ On A Prayer, Bon Jovi. — Just an observation. For a girl who says she doesn’t like Bon Jovi, her blog sure mentions them a lot. Just sayin’.)

Still Walking On Sunshine

Writing about my divorce yesterday stirred up memories.

And then my blog friend Leslie at Five To Nine  wrote about her courageous announcement to her parents when she became engaged at a young age, like me.

I noticed the calendar.

Gasp!

25 years ago today.

Yes, I was a child bride. Well, not a child. 21. But too young to know what I was choosing. Too young for me.

He was 10 years older than me. He had a successful career. He knew what he wanted. Who he was. I was still stifled by my parents. I wanted out. Out from their control. Away from my childhood.

And I was in love. I was following my heart. On that May 11th, 25 years ago, just before going out the door to arrive at the church, Katrina and the Waves came on MTV singing “Walking On Sunshine.”

“Wait,” I said to my sister, “I love this song!”

“We’re going to be late,” my sister said.

“I don’t care. I want this song in my heart today.”

So I sat there, with my hair and make-up expertly done, veil already attached. Wearing blue jeans, t-shirt and flip-flops. Soaking up the song. Singing along. Smiling like a fool.

I was so happy that day. So excited to start my new life.

As soon as it was over we raced to the church to get properly dressed, humming that song, dancing with my sister in the courtyard while we sang.

Every time after, whenever I’d hear that song I’d remember that beautiful day. My wedding day was like a fairytale. I have no bad memories. Nothing went wrong. Not that I can remember, anyway.

And then. Eleven years later. We divorced.

Not that popular of a song anymore, I rarely heard it. But when I did, I would fall into a sad little funk. What was I thinking? How could I have been so blind? I was so stupid.

Slowly, gradually, I’d hear the catchy refrain and I’d catch myself humming along. And I realized, it no longer reminded me of something I’d lost. It reminded me of what I was living now.

“Walking on sunshine. I feel alive. And it’s time to feel good!”

Always the optimist, always glass half full, “Walking On Sunshine” still has a power over me. If it comes on the radio I have to turn it up. If I’m home, I have to dance around the room with a child in hand. I grin like a fool every time I hear it.

Yes, 25 years ago today I took a chance on something that failed.

No. Not failed.

Ended.

And today I’m experiencing a new chapter – dancing, laughing, singing, crying. I have no idea where this chapter is taking me.

But I’m having a blast while I’m in it!