• hdmacd

1.8

Updated: Aug 8, 2020


Two years ago.

Where has the time gone? Yet, it doesn’t feel like it was two years ago.


Two years ago yesterday was the day I decided to leave. I had reached my end point. I had reached the point where I couldn’t take it, couldn’t handle it, couldn‘t deal with it, and was tired of living in a world of fear.

Two years ago, my so-called “happily ever after” failed. My marriage ended. My world literally felt like it was falling apart, and I wasn’t sure how to proceed with my life.


My biggest concerns weren’t really how do I deal with the divorce, but more so “what are people going to think of me?”. I was so concerned with how others would perceive me: what would they think? What would they say? I was 30 years old. I had only been married for eight months. Will people think I just gave up? Will people think badly about what a waste of time and money it was?

I will never forget that day. It will always be an intense memory in my mind. Some of the things that were said will always be there. They will always sting. But they will also always be a memory of what not to accept from a partner. I am at a point in life, where they no longer hold power over me. I no longer allow them to determine my life and how I live it.


Let’s be real: my marriage had ended long before that day. My marriage ended months prior. Because he had decided it was over, and stopped trying. That day two years ago, I finally had, had enough of the accusations, the hurtful words, and the lack of care or respect coming from him. I finally decided that I deserved better. I deserve to not be treated as if I meant so little. So I decided to leave. I couldn’t do it anymore. I couldn’t pretend anymore.

I was so fearful of other’s reactions that I let my family tell others. I wasn’t even sure what to say at that point. I was in a cloud of “just get through today, and deal with tomorrow later”. I stayed living with him for another three weeks before I finally moved out. What an awkward situation that was. 0 / 5 stars. Do not recommend.

Did it hurt when I knew it was over? Yes.

Did it hurt when I decided to leave? Oh hell yes it did.

At the same time though... It was a relief to say the words “I can’t do this anymore”.


Do I regret getting a divorce? Absolutely not.

Do I wish I had never been married? Somedays. But most days I am grateful for the lessons. I am grateful for the experience, and I am grateful for the life I have now. If I hadn’t been through all of that mess, I wouldn’t be who I am, or have the respect for life the way that I do now.


As I said in a previous post... We never should have been together. We never should have gotten married. But alas, here we are, with that memory deep in our minds as one of the most expensive, and yet most invaluable lessons I have had to learn.

I held on to a lot of anger, a lot of resentment, and a lot of sadness surrounding that man, and my divorce.

“Yes the past can hurt. But the way I see it, you can either run from it, or, learn from it”

I decided to learn from it. I decided to accept what I had been through, accept the new cards I had been dealt, and proceed with my life accordingly.

The first year was rough guys. I won’t even deny that.


I am not going to sit here, and say “Divorce is great! Give it a try!” Because it sucks. It sucks hard. I do not regret it though. If you are unhappy, and nothing you do is fixing things, then by all means, look at ALL of your options. But just know... It’s going to hurt, it’s going suck, and it‘s going to be hard. But then it will get better.


The firsts of everything when dealing with grief are usually very hard. For example:

My first anniversary. We never actually had our first wedding anniversary. We were only married for eight months. So the day that would have been my anniversary, my sister took me for a mani/pedi and to see Venom. Because, how better to deal with grief than to see Tom Hardy down a bunch of tater-tots?

(also, I just discovered this week that I can add gifs into my posts. Soooo... Sorry, not sorry)


The first family function after we were apart was miraculous. I would like to say it was hard, but only in the sense that everyone was asking me how I was doing, and what happened. It was was actually kind of funny (I know. That’s weird to say, but looking back on it now, I can find the humour). See, my dad is one of 6 kids. My parents, out of all the my dad‘s siblings are the only ones that are still together. When my Uncle Gord found out, he gave me a hug, told me it was going to be okay, and said “Welcome to the club. We meet on Thursdays”. I believe I then asked if we had matching jackets for the club.

At another point during that family event, I asked for a mulligan on my marriage (a common phrase used by me in any sporting competition *mainly pool* against my cousins), my dad heard this and piped up saying he would give me a mulligan on the whole damn thing. New guy, new wedding, new life. The whole. Damn. Thing.


I love my family.

The first time I had to see him after we separated was the day we went to the court house to file our final set of divorce papers. This was a year later. We had minor contact prior to this, him asking if I knew where his birth certificate was, (like I would know that information a year later), agreeing what day we would meet at the court house, you know. Usual stuff. I was super nervous, so I decided to be a weird form of a passive aggressive, hilarious bitch. It seemed to work because we left after making awkward small talk, me putting the filing fees on my credit card stating “I may as well get points for this shit”. 💁🏼‍♀️🤷🏼‍♀️.

Five weeks later I got confirmation that our divorce had been granted... Honestly... It was one of the best damn days of my life. I had two bottles of champagne. Cause... Why the hell not?

It was finally over.

At the beginning of September, I went and picked up my official divorce paper. $25 for a piece of printer paper with a stamp on it. But hey, it was worth it. I picked up his (you know, kill your enemies with kindness), sent it off in the mail, got the money for his, and then proceed to block and delete his number from my phone.

It was magical.


Looking back, I thought getting a divorce would be the end of my life. I thought people would judge me. In reality, those who know me, know I put up with a lot, and did everything I could to salvage things. People I know, know damn well how hard I tried. I felt like a puddle at the beginning. Sad, lonely, disappointed. Then I got angry (a rare sight, as I am usually fairly docile, but if you ask my cousin, she’ll tell you it was scary).

After anger came acceptance, and the ability to move on and process what was happening.

On what would have been my second wedding anniversary, I threw a party. The “Nacho Wife Party”. It was a fantastic night, complete with those I love the most in attendance. Tacos for everyone!

I felt like my life could finally begin.


My only disappointment, is that I waited so long to really get started on healing.

Hindsight is always 20/20. When I got divorced, my life wasn’t falling apart. My life did not end when I decided to say “I don’t” instead of “I do”. My life started. My life blossomed. My life went on an upward climb. I knew I wasn’t alone in this. I know now that even though people didn’t understand what it was that I went through, and the story behind why it happened, I knew that I was surrounded by people who loved me.

At one point, I had been told that fairytales weren’t real, that there was no such thing as happily ever after, and I was delusional for thinking so. Those words make me sad. Not because the words were directed at me. But because he never believed in it. He didn’t believe in the magic that life has to offer. He didn’t believe that life can be whatever you want it to be. It can be fun, and beautiful, and messy, and magical. It can be hard, and cruel, but also exciting, and an adventure if that’s what you want it to be. To have such a cynical mindset on what marriage, and life is, only gives you those things in return. But if you believe, like I did, that life can be beautiful, and magical, and it can have a happily ever after, then don’t stop. Don’t give up because it didn’t work out the first time.


Failure on having a good life, was not an option.


I got married, expecting the end result to be that I would be married for life, have the dream house, two cars, kids, and my life would be complete. I got married excepting the end result to be happily ever after. I didn’t get that. I didn’t get my dream life. I didn’t get the happily ever after. I know that I deserve it, and I know that it is up to me to make sure I get it. So why would I stop? Why would I stop dreaming and wishing for it, because some guy told me it wasn’t real?

The answer: I wouldn’t, and I won’t.

It is finally time to turn my life into lemonade, and create my own fairytale. It may be slightly damaged, and broken at times. But it’s mine. This is my life, and my story, and I wouldn’t trade it for the world.

xo🍋

(ps. I had every intention of posting this yesterday, but if I have learned anything it is to listen to my mind, heart and body. My mind was all for it, my heart was neutral, but my body... well... that’s a different story. Any and every time I picked up my iPad to start typing, I found myself distracted; unwilling to write out the words I knew I had stored up inside. I took it as a sign as I was not ready or it was not time. So I distracted myself with Star Wars: The Last Jedi, Porgs and TikTok instead. Cottage Springs Vodka Sodas may have been involved... again, sorry not sorry. xo🍋)


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