Life after divorce

Guess I'll start with the obvious. In late 2016, we filed for divorce. It was quite sudden and surprising for me and I didn't want it, but that's the way it goes sometimes, I guess. That's all I really feel comfortable saying about it publicly.

So 2016 is what we call The Worst Year around here. So much change happened all at once: the marriage fell apart, we sold our house and moved into separate rentals, I got a new job, and because those weren't enough, I got diagnosed with type 2 bipolar disorder. And then motherfucking Donald Trump got elected. It was basically like 2016 was a giant fist and I was one of those bouncing punching bags and 2016 just kept hitting me full force until finally I was just knocked out, flat on the ground, hoping to god I never had to get up again.

The kids didn't really understand why we were splitting up, and to be honest, I don't blame them, because it's damn near impossible to explain adult level shit to kids sometimes. I don't know whether we did well at it or not, but I count it as a win that everybody stayed alive and fed and clothed during those times because I was such a mess that most days I could barely stand up on my own two feet.

Somewhere in there I found a brilliant therapist, who referred me to a top notch psychiatrist, and I'm pretty sure that's why I'm alive today. I'm not trying to be glib. I have struggled with severe depression for all my adult life and pretty much the only thing keeping it in check was having a predictable life. When life fell apart grief and depression mingled and became an epic nightmare. What saved my ass was therapy and medication. It wasn't exactly a cakewalk, but it was much better than the alternative.

2017 crawled around, and the best way I can characterize it is that if 2016 was like getting knocked out, 2017 was like waking up on the ground and trying to figure out how the hell I got there. Not even trying to get up, not trying to move at all, just trying to understand what the bloody fucking hell just happened. Also, trying different ways to forget about it. Spoiler: nothing worked.

During that year one important thing happened though, which is we got the kids into the routine of going back and forth between houses, and we dialed in to a schedule that worked for all of us. We began a 2-2-5-5 routine. Like this: kids at my house Monday/Tuesday, kids at their mom's Wednesday/Thursday, then at my house Friday-Tuesday, then at mom's Wednesday-Sunday. Repeat ad nauseum. We still use that schedule today.

We meant to put them in public school that year but we missed all the deadlines and none of us was really ready for it anyway. So they stayed home schooled until 2018.

Another important thing that happened in 2017 (or maybe in 2016?) is that I found a mental health support group. At first I was pretty unsure about the whole thing, but over the next few years, it revealed itself to be a godsend. I made several great friends there. My crew. We've all laughed and cried together so much now.

2018 I would call the year of sitting up and looking around, trying to get my bearings. A lot of good things started to happen. We got the kids into school (4th grade and 7th grade) at decent schools, and they blossomed there. I started remembering how to be good at my job. I had a relationship with someone truly special. I started going out to shows and hanging out with friends more. I started laughing and smiling more. I still had plenty of shit days and weeks but at least I was functional.

I also engaged politically like I never have before - donating to multiple candidates, phone banking, canvassing. The 2018 congressional election brought me some relief. It didn't make up for our travesty of a president, but at least we could take back the house.

So here we are, approaching the second half of 2019. I'm still not totally sure what this year is shaping up to be like. But as the school year has just ended, I will say that I'm so damn proud of my kids for all the hard work they have put in - they both really kicked ass this year. And I'm proud of myself too, for helping them get here, and for finally taking care of my shit.

And now, because all this was too awkward and you probably didn't need all this, here are pictures of my amazing kids, who I love to the moon and back.

Aria, 7th grade (age 13), in front of one of the giant tanks at the Monterey Bay Aquarium.

Audrey, 4th grade (age 10), with her teacher, Kim.

And here are the two of them together, seeing CHVRCHES at the Greek Theater on April 19th - their first big show ever.