Today is a double anniversary for me. 43 years ago, I got married. Weddings and marriages are supposed to be rated on the positive scale of life. That one wasn’t. By the time I got to my wedding day, I knew I should run. I didn’t.
Today is the 24th anniversary of my divorce. That should be a negative, but it wasn’t. I am proud that I got out. I am proud that I took myself and my three teenagers, my dog and my plant out of a really bad situation. I am proud that I worked my butt off, kept a roof over our heads and food in the cupboards, and decent clothes in our closets. I am proud that I worked my way up from a worn out sedan to a cool reliable, turbo-charged convertible. I am proud that I took my kids on memorable holidays, spent time with them, and gave them the home they deserved – even if it was only for a few years.
Today my kids are on their own, living their own lives and raising their own beautiful families. I am happily married to a good man. He is caring and kind and funny. We have a good life, a new dog and lots of plants.
My divorce was a good thing. The best thing I ever did. There really isn’t a good way to celebrate a divorce. People think you are bitter or angry or awful, if you ever mention it, no matter how good it was. So I don’t.
I do celebrate my first marriage and my divorce every year on October 8th. I don’t make a big deal out of it, no party or anything. I just go for a walk, stomp the hell out of a few flowers, feel good about myself and grateful for the life I have. 😊