When the sidewalk started spinning, I thought,
"Perfect, that's the way I feel inside."
My world was reeling. The woman I love no longer wanted to be with me.
One blessing of my divorce is a learning about Humility. Although I knew that something wasn't working, I simply could not find it in me to ask for help. I could delude myself as long as she stayed. I could convince myself things weren't all that bad, but on the day she took me to the judge, denial shattered.
photo by Suzanne
We weren't making it. We weren't flying. We weren't even close.
"That's the ground rushing up at you, Len. That's the end of the rope you're hanging on to."
I finally had to admit that I don't know what I'm doing. I began to realize how smart that woman is. I've read a few relationship books and listened to a few gurus, and I'm amazed at how much of what they tell me is an echo of something she told me years earlier.
The thing is, I wasn't listening. The shock of knowing that this woman I adore thinks her life is better without me in it, that shock activated a new response, something I hadn't tried before. I shall call it listening. When I finally sobered up, I began to ask questions and listen.
First question: "What the hell just happened?"
Answer: "Your wife doesn't like you or trust you."
Second question: "Why not?"
Answer: "Do you really want to hear this?"
I would ask her and then interpret the answer to suit my preconceptions. I thought I already knew so I only half listened, enough to patronize, not really intending to hear. For some reason, I finally heard the problem clearly when a man explained it to me.
At this point, she was too deeply hurt to talk to me, so I started asking around, and by Grace I happened to ask some men with thriving families who were anything but gentle in letting me know how many ways I had ignored the signals.
Why did I hear when a man said to me all the same things my wife had been saying for years? I don't know but that's the way it worked out. Somewhere there's a man reading this and I hope you hear me, cause there's a good chance your woman has already told you what you need to know and you think she's just crazy.
I am grateful for my divorce because it taught me to listen, even when I think I know.
I threw up on that sidewalk after midnight in February of 2005. Not the most beautiful ceremony, but certainly fit for occasion. A place to bury denial. A moment to confront death.
More painful than heartache, more necessary than knowledge, the death of an ego.
Photo by Rory Peters
When the student is ready, teachers appear. . .
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