Posted on | June 3, 2013 | 9 Comments
When you’ve been wounded, it takes awhile for the pain to subside. And even when the pain is gone, a scar remains… a thin reminder of the hell you survived, a jagged line of what once was and what will be. It never goes away, though it might fade a little with the passing of time, becoming a soft, raised mountain of memories that only you can see.
Divorce left me wounded in ways I didn’t realize.
The pain is long gone. The pain I once felt at just the word “divorce” is now the barest memory in the back of my mind. I can talk to my ex-husband almost as the friend he once was. We are Facebook friends now and we carry on civil conversations about everything from visitation to music we like. The pain of divorce is gone.
But in it’s place is a criss-crossed scar across the whole of me.
I find I am hesitant and tentative to trust my heart with anyone. I find that at the barest hint of something more, I am the first one out the door and half way to the other side of some proverbial mountain. I find that when a guy tells me he likes me, he’s interested in me, or even just that I’m pretty, my first instinct is to horror-movie-scream and Scooby Doo run (you know, where it makes the sound and smoke flies out but you don’t actually go anywhere? That.)
I am not willing to compromise. I am not willing to forget. I am not willing to rush head-long and carefree into anything with anyone. The raised, bumpy line across my heart reminds me that people change, that people wound and break and devastate. It whispers in my ear that the people you love, the people you think will never hurt you, do the most damage. The white, stretched, patchwork of my soul reminds me that I was once broken, I was once battered and abused and left for dead… and though I am whole and moving and oh-so-alive, I am still but a patchwork soul. I am not the girl I once was. I will never be that girl again. And now, I carry the burden of not just myself, but the sweet and tender soul of my little boy, who depends on me to make the right choices for him, the best decisions… for him. It is a heavy burden to tote around on first or second dates. And when I look around at the landscape of my life, at the things that spin and twirl and tick together to form the clockwork of everyday, I wonder if it’s a burden I will ever share with anyone again.
Because the pain of divorce is gone.
But oh how the scar remains.
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