In the end, the beginning...

So. I'm divorced.

As I sat in the courtroom today, listening as Maggie asked Nick if he agreed that we were no longer compatible as marriage partners, I looked at the judge, who was this kindly, grandfatherly gentleman, who has the privilege of watching as people disintegrate their marriage in front of him, and wondered what he thought of us.

Of two people who were married 13 years ago, who had 2 children, and who were now sitting in his courtroom attesting that they wish to undo it.

Of course, he doesn't know the rest. He doesn't know that Nick served a year in Iraq. He doesn't know that they had 3 dogs, one of whom died as Joy watched, waiting in the vet's office because their computer system wasn't working (yes, Zoe would have died anyway, she was sick-it was still hard). He doesn't know that these 2 people in front of him met in November of 2000, while Joy was still in college, while Nick had a full time job but lived at home. He doesn't know that they fell in love, besotted, fireworks and passion and the whole bit. He doesn't know that they worked together, raising these children, struggling to get by on one paycheck. He doesn't know that they had so many trials during this 15 years that they have been together, that they fought so hard through so many valleys to reach the peaks. And there were peaks. Lots of them. There were dark valleys too. But he doesn't know that. He knows that they are here today, asking for their marriage to be dissolved. Like acid.

At church on Sunday, Pastor Karen read from II Corinthians 13, the love passage. Which of course was central to the message in our wedding, as it is nearly all weddings. I wrote our ceremony out, top to bottom, and put many verses into it that mattered, that meant something to us. But smack in the middle was, of course, "Love is patient, love is kind..." And I ended it with "Love never ends." Because that was why I wanted to include it. Because I knew that love is not always patient, or kind, or just, but I did know that love never ends.

I feel like today that love was supposed to end.

It didn't. I sat in that courtroom today, and said yes, I want to end this marriage, because I love Nicholas Ryan Johnson. And I want him to be happy. And even though it hurts, I can accept that his path with me beside him as his wife has ended.

I know that Nick will always be a part of my life. We have children. We will have grandchildren. Not too terribly long ago, Nick considered me to be his best friend. I don't doubt that he no longer considers me that, but I do hope that he considers me a friend, and a close one at that. We may no longer be those young kids, so excited by the life that stretched out in front of us, but we can be old friends whose paths sometimes cross.

So today I know for certain that love never ends. Flowers and romance and all of that, yes, they end. But love, at its core, is rooted within us. Or at least, it is for me. I hope and pray that eventually I will meet someone who would like to walk beside me, who would reignite that consuming, mind altering experience that is falling in love. Oh, I pray so hard for that. But love, genuine, grounded, to the marrow of my bones love-that is still there and always will be.

When you grow up...your heart dies...

John Hughes is one of my heroes. His prose lives inside my head to such a degree that a lot of the time I don't even realize that it's him that I'm quoting. As a director, I find that he excelled at minutiae, not so much at endings. But that is surely because they weren't really ending. They were trailing off, short stories really, with characters who would drift away from each other in the reality of life.

The Breakfast Club is my favorite of all the John Hughes movies. Allowing the girls to watch it this young was something I really mulled over. It is so important to me, carrying so much of what I consider my truth, and they are young for the content. Not just the swearing, which they seem immune to (according to them, they know all of the curse words from the school bus), but the pot, the references to sex and virginity, all of that.

But the point-the theme of the movie is vital. They understand bullying. And cliques. And stereotyping, even if they don't exactly know that word.

It is within the stereotypes that John Hughes excels as a director. Take, for example, the lunch scene. He does not go out of his way to make a big deal of it, but within their lunches lie their homes. Claire, of course and most obviously, has sushi. Brian has the well-balanced lunch. Allison makes a sandwich of Capt'n Crunch and pixie stix. And then there is Andrew's never ending bag-three sandwiches, chips, a banana, an apple, and on and on. He never points out that John does not have a lunch. Nowadays, that would be a huge plot point.

I'm not sure that they could make The Breakfast Club today. The crying. I don't think that they could just let them open up and cry. Certainly the gun. Brian would have gotten much more that Saturday detention. And the adults. They would have made a bigger deal of them, of the fact that they are sad and pathetic. One disillusioned with his job, the other the former big man on campus now reduced to cleaning up after the kids that would have worshiped him eight years ago.

But Judd Nelson is amazing in this performance. I always feel sorry for Judd, when they trot him out for whatever, and he ends up having to talk about The Breakfast Club, like he never did anything else except possibly Suddenly Susan. Judd is a great actor who gave many great performances but, such is life, this is what he is remembered for. His performance, though, is profound. Yes, he has to keep going off the wall, screaming and carrying so much of the heft of the movie. But his character is the heart, the soul, and the connection point of the audience. This is surely one of the bravest decisions that John Hughes made as a director. Bender is not the character most people would select as the most accessible. But watch his face in the scene where Vernon is begging him to hit him. Watch what he is able to convey with very few words-how scared this kid is as this adult informs him that his greatest wish is to beat him up.

I realize that I am now an unequivocal grownup. I am the parent pushing my kids to succeed, hoping that they chose friends that help them to grow and not that pull them down a rabbit hole. I am raising children who have to split time between their parents, surely the worst punishment of all in the Brat Pack world. I am sorry for that. But I'm also kind of still watching the world around me in wide eyed wonder, hoping to run into John Bender and help him to find some solace. My heart isn't completely dead yet.

Slight musings on starting a new year...

My New Year's Eve was not really very exciting this year. I actually just talked to the girls and then basically fell asleep. It is probably the first time in 30 years that I didn't at least make it to the ball dropping.

I did, however, watch When Harry Met Sally... yesterday. Which is how I always ring in the New Year. Harry is one of my all time favorite movies, and Meg Ryan's character of Sally Albright is one of my idols. In my life I have basically tried to emulate 4 fictional characters: Anne Shirley, Charlene Fraiser Stillfield, Corky Sherwood, and Sally Albright.

And here's the exciting part: I am so much like Sally! I have never watched When Harry Met Sally having gone through a break up. Basically because I have never been through one before. But this year, with all my wounds still fresh and stinging, watching this movie was like a balm to my soul. The character of Sally is trying so hard to move on, to accept that life is moving forward, and she refuses to feel anger over her life changing in such a huge way-it was me to a tee. Many, many people have told me that it would be best for me to just get really angry, to scream and fight and let that emotion overtake me, even if just for a little while. I don't doubt that they are right-it probably would feel good-but I have yet to really feel it, and at this moment I can't imagine that I will go there. I feel many things-most profoundly, overwhelming sadness-but I don't really feel anger.

I also feel panic. There is a line that Carrie Fisher's character utters that so describes me right this minute. She is telling Sally that she should get out there and date, and Sally's response is that she is in a mourning period. Carrie says, "All I'm saying is that somewhere out there is the man you are supposed to marry. And if you don't get him first, somebody else will, and you'll have to spend the rest of your life knowing that somebody else is married to your husband." Now, just setting aside the irony of me suggesting this applies to my life, this is how I am feeling at the moment. Like if I am not getting out and seeing people, the person that I am supposed to end up with might end up with someone else. But I also feel like I don't have all that much inside of me to give.

Which is all neither here nor there. What happens will happen when it happens. In the meantime, my plan is just to keep trying to heal and grow and become a better person. Let's hope.

My week has been fairly good, even if I did miss the girls like crazy. I spent an evening with my sister, which was so fun. I went out to eat with my friend Niki, which was good conversation combined with a delicious chili at Tumbleweed. I got my hair done. I went to yoga. My radio did this weird cutting in and out on my way home from April's, which made a mash up of Little Drummer Boy and Turning Japanese, which was wicked cool.

And tonight I get my girls back. We will make our resolutions. Mine is basically to keep healing. Here's to 2016-let's hope it's the best year yet.

My grown-up movie weekend...

Okay, so finally, something different is willing to come pouring from my fingertips and into cyberspace. Movies.

I see a lot of movies, if that isn't obvious from my Facebook and Twitter feed. I see pretty much every kid movie that comes to the theater, and I've now entered into a tween genre as well, which mostly seems to include lots of apocalyptic stuff. But I go to the movies nearly every weekend, and so on the weekends that I am kidless, that means I get to see anything that the girls might not be interested in seeing.

This weekend that included two movies, one which I got to see with my sister, and the other which I saw alone. I am getting much more at ease about seeing a movie by myself-I'm pretty sure that the people that work at the movie theater know me, so I'm likely that sad lady who sometimes has kids with her and sometimes is all alone, dateless on a Saturday night. My, that is a depressing thought. But I do believe that everything that I'm doing at the moment is leading me to wherever the heck it is that I'm supposed to end up, and so learning to entertain myself seems a big part of that.

Anyway, I digress. The movie that I saw with my sister was, naturally, Sisters. It's funny and raunchy and the kind of movie that a few years ago we would have all been like, oh my goodness, women can be vulgar just like guys. But in the years since Bridesmaids, Melissa McCarthy has made a career of those movies. So it's not shocking. But it is gross and hilarious and just enough of a literal mess to make my OCD sister squirm in her seat for the majority of the movie. Tina Fey is the oversexed, messed up sister, Amy Poehler is the uptight, do good, divorced sister in need of both a man and a drink. One of the biggest differences between raunchy girl comedy and raunchy boy is the heart, and this one delivers on that front-it's point is that who you are at 13 is not who you have to be a 40. Which is true, to a degree. I'm still so much like my nerdy 13 year old self, it's hard to completely buy that.

The second movie that I watched was Joy. Of course. It's a movie about a woman who pulls herself from the depths of despair to be a millionaire. A woman who gets divorced but ultimately is such good friends with her ex that he helps her on her journey. A woman who is at a loss for exactly how to take care of everyone in her life, but who is ultimately the savior of her family. And her name is Joy, for goodness sake. So yes, I had to see it. Jennifer Lawrence does an excellent job, as she seemingly does in every role she has ever had. The movie is a bit all over the place, but it means well.

I did not walk away from the movie with a magical map to the answer to how exactly to fix my life. But that is likely the point. This Joy could not have imagined that one day a mop would be the answer to all of her prayers. Heaven knows what my answer is. Surely not a cleaning product. But this rabbit hole is leading to somewhere.

The Not Quite Perfect Christmas 2015...

Christmas 2015 is over. Part of me wants to scream, "Thank God!" Part of me realizes that this Christmas-different and unperfect as it was-will live in my memory forever.

Christmas this year was far from normal. The girls and I only read a handful of our Christmas books. We didn't watch all of the Christmas movies. Not all of the decorations were dragged out of the closet.

Our literary tree-the real tree-was smaller than in years past. But Betsy and I carried it in the front door and placed it in the tree holder ourselves. Yes, it leaned a touch to the right. But oh, how proud the two of us were.

The lights on the artificial tree-the big one in the family room-they only go up as high as I could reach. Which is nowhere near the top. But I did it, myself. And that imperfect tree is a reminder of that.

The girls have left now for a week at their dad's. The weight of how lonely I am is almost too much to bear. But they need this time with him. So badly. They need to see Star Wars this week and have that memory be forever connected to their dad. Much as I wanted to take them. It's something special that they connect with him, and I have to just push myself aside and let that be.

I have plans for this week. I'm going to the movies with my sister tonight. I am planning to have dinner with a friend sometime this week. I'm getting my hair done. I'm working. I'm cleaning. I have a stack of books to start.

And I'm writing. Some of it here. Some of it in my journal. Some of it completely navel gazing, self consumed drivel, surely. Some of it hopefully having nothing whatever to do with my personal life. But all of it as my outlet, as my connection to Joy Elizabeth and who she is, and who she was, and who she will be moving forward.

Lucky me. I always get to start the new year with a new age. Let's hope that 37 is going to be an amazing year of growth.

A letter to myself of 6 months ago...

Dear Joy,

I'm sorry, first of all. I am so sorry for all that you are enduring right this minute. You feel all alone, and surrounded by sadness, consumed by a grief that you can't quite name, unmoored from everything you have ever known or believed to be true in your life. You are questioning every single moment of the past 15 years of your life, trying to pinpoint exactly when you should have realized that your life was a great big lie.

Well, I have some news for you. First of all, your life is not now, nor was it ever, a lie. Did your life take a turn you weren't expecting? Yes. And it is sad and hard and it hurts. But it doesn't undo all that came before. You are still you, inside of all of this overwhelming sadness. I know that it's hard to feel that, but it's true. You are still the girl who fell in love, you are still the girl who had the faith to move a mountain. I know that it's hard to believe right now, but your faith was not in vain. No, the story doesn't end the way you wanted, and no, God did not answer that prayer that you have been praying so faithfully with the answer that you were expecting-but the fact is, he did answer it. And not even with a no, like you think he did right now. He answered your prayer for an answer to so much confusion, and questioning, and that constant feeling in the back of your mind that something isn't right-he brought everything to the forefront and said, you are free. You have loved faithfully and steadfastly for 15 years. And the fact is, you deserve to be loved faithfully back.

That leads me to the second thing that I need to tell you-this is not your fault. I need you to repeat that over and over in your head. It is not your fault. Are you a completely blameless person? No. Did you never make a mistake in your marriage? Is there nothing that you wouldn't go back and change if you could? Of course not. You are human. You have been careless and headstrong and selfish. Own them. But this is not your fault. You were lied to, you were made to feel a fool, and there is no excuse for that.

I don't know the end of this story. I wish I did. But I do know that it has, in fact, gotten better, just as so many people have told you it would. I know that right now you feel like you have fallen down a long, dark tunnel, and that there is not even hope of a tiny speck of light. But there is at least a glimmer of light to be found. It is still hard to be without the girls on the weekends that aren't yours, but you are getting better at filling your time. You go to yoga. You get your hair done. You have seen many, many movies. You shop. (I know-you think I'm making that up. I'm not.)

And when you are with the girls, which is genuinely most of the time, the three of you are so much closer. They need you in a way that they can't quite put a name to. And I know that right now you feel useless, you scarily feel like they would be better off without you. But that is not true at all. You are their link to the world. They are watching you to see how you handle this. Today someone very kindly told you that you are leading them through this very hard time with grace, and it was like a prayer to your heart. And while you mess up sometimes, and you feel overwhelmed a lot more than you want to admit, the three of you (the three musketeers, you call yourselves)-you have a bond that nothing can break. Not your sadness, not your fear, nothing.

I wish that I could tell you that this has a happy ending. I hope it does. I pray it does. I know that you are scared that this was it-this was the one great love of your life and you won't get another chance. I know that you are in a panic that no one is ever going to ask you out, or be even remotely attracted to you. I'm going to be honest with you, the panic is still there around the edges. But mostly you know that you need to heal, and work on becoming the person that you want to be. Mostly.

I know that right now you feel a lot of shame. You feel like everyone can see right through you, like they are thinking that you are a fraud. But that is all in your head. People are praying for you and you don't even realize it. People are coming into your life who are guiding you though this. It's amazing when you look back after six months and see all of the people that God has brought into your life who are helping you through this. People who have known you forever, and people who you are just about to meet.

It is okay to acknowledge that you mostly had a good marriage. Clearly it wasn't perfect but nothing is. But it's like Miranda Lambert said-yes, brace yourself, Blake Shelton and Miranda Lambert got divorced-but anyway, she said that her marriage left her a high standard for her future relationships. And you nodded and said, yes, that is true. In a lot of ways, you were blessed. And this will turn into a blessing. Because that is how God works, how life works. And you know that. You have traveled through scary valleys before, through things that you were sure would break you, and they led you to places that you now realize you needed to be.

This path that you are on isn't what you would have chosen, but it's where you need to be. I hope that in six more months this is all even clearer. But for now I really do know that you are braver than you believe, stronger than you seem, and smarter than you think.

Love,
Joy

We were us (and now we are you and me)...

Once upon a time, I met a boy and I fell head over heels in love. It was a grand thing. The best thing that had ever happened to me at 21 years of age. I fell in love and got married and had two precious girls and my life was pretty much exactly what I had always wanted. None of that was a lie.

Nick and I had our share of troubles. Our marriage was tested repeatedly and we always managed to come out stronger for it.

This time our marriage fell apart.

I am not proud of that. At all. I meant my vows with every beat of my heart and I still take them very seriously. Coming to terms with the fact that there is literally no way for me to keep my vows and remain married has taken me a long time to wrap my mind around. I have come to believe that I am keeping my vows by getting divorced. I promised one day in October 13 years ago to love Nick no matter the bend in the road. I never imagined this bend. But it has come. And Nick feels that in order for him to feel fulfilled and happy, he has to move on to another life, another wife, another family. It's a hard thing to accept-quite frankly, it hurts like hell, in a way that I don't think can be imagined unless you are living through it-but I think that I'm finally to a place where I not only can accept that this is happening, I can embrace it as a part of my own journey.

This is not an overnight revelation. This has taken months and months of grief and sadness and journaling to get to. Writing and writing and writing for myself. Acknowledging millions of feelings and emotions and barely keeping my head above water. This has been the hardest thing I've ever lived through. It has been like grieving a death in which there is no body.

Nick and I have always promised that if, for any reason, we ever split up, we would remain friends. I have every intention of keeping that promise, but my goodness, is it hard. Putting aside my own feelings is so difficult and sometimes it is just more than I can manage. I'm doing much better, and Nick and I are for the most part able to be friendly, but we are a long way from the ideal in my head of how this eventually should work. And I just don't know how long that will take. My ideal includes each of us having a partner who makes us a better person.

I finally am beginning to feel that this has happened so that someone can come into my and the girls lives that-once we meet him-we just can't imagine how we ever got along without him. And if we are lucky enough that he comes with a child or children, we will wonder how our family seemed complete before. That is my prayer.

This journey has been hard. It has dwarfed any difficult circumstance that I've come up against in the past. It has been hard to watch my children go through this and not be able to magically fix it. Betsy has had to learn that she can be very angry and disappointed in someone and still love them. It is a lesson that I think that some adults have yet to learn.

But the three of us are stronger. We know that we are blessed beyond belief to have each other. Embracing this as an opportunity for our family to grow is not easy, but we are getting there. Step by step. Breath by breath. Prayer by prayer. We have rounded the bend in the road and we don't quite know what lies ahead. But I believe that it is something glorious. Something amazing. And something that we won't want to live without, once we finally get there.