I grew up in a family that loved music and my parents would often joke that the reason they had children was to turn the record over for them (yes I am aware that dates me). I consider myself very lucky that I inherited their love of music and even luckier that they introduced me to the classics – Simon and Garfunkel, Bread, Bob Dylan, of course The Beatles plus many, many, many more. This love has only grown over the years and it is not uncommon that I use music as a way to recenter myself after a particularly long, crap day, express myself when I can’t find the right words to do so or as a way to connect with others. So, when people ask me how I am doing with the divorce and how am I getting through everything, the first thing that comes into my mind is a famous Beatles song “With a Little Help From My Friends”.
What do I do when my love is away?
(Does it worry you to be alone?)
How do I feel by the end of the day?
(Are you sad because you’re on your own?)
No I get by with a little help from my friends
Mm I get high with a little help from my friends
Mm gonna try with a little help from my friends
This song rings incredibly true as the only way I have survived this entire ordeal is because of my phenomenal support system!
Friends and family are key through any major life change. It is important to have people in your life that can not only love you at your best, but also at your worst. These are the people that can endure the wrath of unjustified anger and know that it isn’t them you are mad at. I can’t tell you how many times I have yelled at my friends or family for no real reason other than I just felt like shit and missed C. As soon as the anger would come out of my mouth I would immediately feel bad and want to apologize. Sometimes I did and other times I was too embarrassed and would burst into tears and avoid the person. One thing that comes with divorce is a shit-ton of anger, loneliness and guilt about EVERYTHING.
While I will talk about my amazing family in my next post, I want to pay tribute to my incredible friends here because they are not forced to love me like my family is. My friends love me out of choice. And, divorce has revealed that I am so lucky that my friends have chosen to love me.
My wonderful friends come from all stages of my life.
I have one friend that has known me since kindergarten (I am T she is V).
Another that has been by my side since junior high.
A whole crew that has been through thick and thin with me since my sorority days.
One that was the best gift I ever received from C&D.
One that knows exactly what I am going through and how to show up without me even telling her I need her.
One that allows me to make poor decisions (they are also fun decisions) to cope with the loss because she gets me and gets what I am going through.
One that is going to make an incredible roommate and reminds me that I am not too old of a lady.
And so many others that offer me support, love and killer distractions.
Each person holds a special place in my heart, memories that connect me to them forever and a unique way to deal with me through this adventure.
These friends have been critical in making sure that I don’t end up a 400lb woman with 30 cats and 40 dogs, eating frosting in bed and covered in bed sores because I am too lazy to get up and take a real shower. Think Goldie Hawn in “Death Becomes Her” before she drinks the potion. It is because of my friends that I am functioning right now.
They have taken me to dinners, concerts and other outings to keep me busy. They have sent me care packages when they couldn’t be here in person. They have cried with me, drank with me, laughed with me and slept in my bed when I just couldn’t bear to be alone. They have offered words of comfort at 2 a.m. when I couldn’t stop crying and come to my house at a moment’s notice when I was breaking down. They made me join Tinder just to show me that I was desirable and could snag someone if I wanted to (this will be a whole other post – Tinder is effing insane).
They are the ones that packed up all of C’s items when he refused to do it after months of being out of the house. They came with boxes, tape, wine and junk food because they knew I just couldn’t live in a house with reminders of him everywhere. It was at this very low moment that they cheered me up in the only way they could. As I sat crying in the middle of my room with my dogs sitting on my lap, my friends made jokes about “how can one person have so many effing Doc Martins and tennis shoes from the early 2000’s” (he had like 25 pairs all in boxes at the top of the closet and yes he and I moved them 3 different times over our relationship and I never saw him wear any of them once) and “who the hell has coach golf balls”.
My friends are my people for a very good reason. As the ever insightful Carrie Bradshaw once stated…