Signed, Sealed, Delivered 💌

I am officially divorced. A “divorceé” if you will.

It sounds fancy. French maybe. Like a debutante. Ready for the ball.

The official decree arrived in the mail the same day my (ex) in laws traveled to our new town to watch the boy play baseball.

The papers, while happily received, were very anticlimactic. There was no confetti or grand declaration. There’s no gold gilded stamps or elaborate calligraphy. Certainly nothing worth framing.

And it feels… a little underwhelming. After all that I’d endured. The hell and waiting - there should be some grand finale.

Fireworks maybe?

I think the thing nobody tells you about divorce…

The thing that you can’t know until you know-

Is that it doesn’t undo anything.

There is no great release of the anger or the resentment. You don’t get back the days you spent arguing over custody or placing blame.

You don’t get back the years you tried to make it work or the tears you wasted.

Sure, I got my name back. My life back.

But, don’t think for a minute that you don’t pay greatly for that. You will emerge tattered and bruised. A shell of the person that you once were. You will lose family and friends. Bet you didn’t think your “ride or die” came with a list of stipulations? Divorce is war. Anyone who says differently is either lying or was the first to surrender.

And… it’s totally worth it.