Welcome To The Club

Someone asked me how I was today. “Good, “ I answered. “I’m good.” It was such a knee-jerk reaction. Truth is, I’m in shock. While in the middle of an extensive $200,000 remodel, my husband of 15 years told me he wanted a divorce. That morning I was a wife, mother and part of a loving family. 10 hours later I was separated and crossing the threshold into single motherhood.

But no biggie, right? In California, 60-70% of married couples end up divorced. Only 52% make it to their 15th wedding anniversary. I just squeaked by. (Crystal, by the way is the traditional 15th Wedding Anniversary gift. If you know of anyone who’s approaching their 15th Anniversary, hold off on buying that present until you’re sure the couple is not going to implode.)

My situation combined all the top reasons couples split, which is amazing, because any one of them would have been reason enough: Money problems, a remodel that was overdue and over budget, sexual incompatibility, mid-life crisis, the death of one parent and the illness of two others. As I write this, it’s clear it was a miracle we lasted as long as we did.

The problem is, this wasn’t supposed to happen to me. I was supposed to mate for life. I had been incredibly picky. I’d been in therapy for crying-out-loud. I waited until I was 36 to get married and when I met my husband - a good-looking, athletic, warm-hearted guy, I believed I had found the one.

So, why aren’t I hibernating under the bed covers, chasing down Valium with scoops of Hagen Daz or pleasuring myself endlessly in my brand new Jacuzzi tub with the eight adjustable jets?

I guess I’m looking for some clarity or sense of why this happened - some higher reason. I don’t know if I’ll find it. Horrible things happen to people every day. It could just be my turn. Maybe I’m secretly hoping that I end up on Oprah looking svelte and successful, hawking my book with a subliminal middle finger extended in the direction of my EX-husband.