Secret's Out!

Well, it’s been 3 months.

3 months, 1 week, and 1 day to be exact.

And I’ve finally discovered the worst part of getting divorced.

The separation has actually been a lot easier than I had expected it to be. We still talk from time to time and it’s actually the same way we used to talk; minus the “babe” and “love you”s I guess…

Sometimes I think about him. It used to be a the most frequent right before bed. I figured it was because your bed represents settling down, safety, comfort, ..home. When you go to bed every night with the same person for five years, it doesn’t feel like home when they’re gone. It doesn’t feel safe or comfortable. It feels empty.

I could have been fine all day but as I crawled into bed at night, that alone-ness seemed to be amplified. Like my neighbors could see my lone shadow climbing into bed like the pathetic divorcee I had become. I was surprised I didn’t start to grow a hump, hang a large bell in my clock tower, and groan loudly in the middle of the nights…oh- that’s a different story… sorry for the melodramatics.   

Telling my neighbors, friends, and family was hard. Not that it was a shock to anyone really. I mean, I supposed it was a shock that we actually manned up and pulled the plug but it wasn’t a shock that we weren’t working. D1 and I (D1 is the ex) were highschool sweethearts. We loved like highschool sweethearts and fought like highschool sweethearts. I will never deny that there is a pureness about marrying young. I will never regret the decision I made to get married at 21. I loved D1 and he loved me. We had a great run. We just ran into a burning building, sorry no, we ran into a building where we set fire to the bottom floor and then kept climbing the stairs to escape the heat. 

It was exhilarating the higher we went. It was a crazy adventure full of highs but the flames would spread, they would rise. We would climb another floor. We would do it hand in hand. Sometimes he carried me. Sometimes I was dragging him. It would feel like our relationship was getting stronger but it was still a building burning from the bottom up. When we finally realized that climbing higher and higher was only a temporary solution and that one day we would have to jump because the bottom was just too burnt to save, we knew that climbing another floor would only make jumping off harder.

Jumping was hard. We had to strategically do it. We weren’t rash people. I mean, our building had started burning all the way back in March 2014 for God’s sake. We tried jumping in January of 2015 but we chickened out. Now we were 6 floors higher and we wanted out. The smoke was getting to us and we knew we were only a few floors away from dying. It was official, the smoke and heat was too much to handle. It was worse than our fear of jumping. We weren’t scared to jump anymore. We just wanted out.  

I pitched the idea of jumping again. He agreed. I retracted. He coaxed me onto the ledge. I hesitated. It was high. It was very very very high. Look at everyone watching. They’re all going to watch us jump. What if I die when we get to the bottom? What if I pass out or check out half way through the fall and never get back up? Maybe I didn’t want to do it! Maybe just one more level… NO. It had to be done! I couldn’t breathe. I was choking. Here goes nothing!

The fall was hard. We had to clear the smoke. It was thick. At some point, I couldn’t see him anymore. Did D1 jump? Did I jump alone? Was he still up in the building watching me fall. Did he regret coaxing me to jump? Or was he ahead? Maybe he was enjoying it! Maybe it’s like a rush for him! It was hard not seeing him. I was concerned. I didn’t want him to crash and burn. I hoped he had landed safely. WAIT! Why was I thinking about him?! Son of a b*tch set my building on fire!

When I finally cleared the smoke and could see the ground. I saw them. My friends and my family holding a giant net. They were ready to catch me. I knew they were heartbroken but I also knew they were trying to be strong for me. It broke my heart to see their weary smiles and tender, tear pricked eyes. I saw my puppy, Baloo, wagging his tail. He was waiting for daddy to fall out of the sky into the net too!

When I finally reached the bottom. I sank into the net. Just me. Alone. It absorbed me and braced my fall. It all felt like it was in slow motion so I didn’t feel the sting of the fall until I had gotten up. It felt like I was watching someone else. I could see them climbing the building. Higher and higher. I could see the flames spreading and the base burning to nothing. I kept screaming at the couple climbing higher and higher to just jump. I saw how scared they were but I knew if they just did it, they might live. They could have a second chance. If they stayed, they’ll go up in flames. I could see them climbing onto the ledge. I could see the fear in their eyes and hear the quickening of their hearts beating. I saw them reach to hold one another’s hands. They gave them one last squeeze, closed their eyes, and jumped. My breath hitched the moment their feet left the edge. I saw my own body suspended in air. I felt stuck but free all at the same time. I was helpless but relieved. I had relinquished all control. I had made an conscious, thought through, oxymoron of a decision to give up and blindly go where my subconscious had been luring me to venture to for the last year.

As I walk, by myself, in complete silence, down the aisle 10, looking for bin 51, I realized… this is it. This is officially the hardest, worst part of getting a divorce. I’ve found it. 3 months, 1 week, and 1 day later. The worst part of getting a divorce, the absolute worst part.. is having to push this d*mn Ikea shopping cart by myself!
Why do the back wheels not lock?!? Like is this an actual, purposeful design?! For what? For me to slide my way around the corners of this place?

Get your sh*t together Ikea! Like a freakin ab work out over here. 
Am I shopping or doing P90X?! FML!

Hi friends!

If you’re reading this, you’ll be scratching your heads, mouths agap. This is not a drill.

This is not a joke. It’s a true story. It happened to a friend of a friend of mine. Just Kidding….it’s about me LOL!

I laugh because what else is there to do? I'm so sorry this is not a baby announcement. Mom, I'm sorry...

JK! My mom knows LOL I would not tell her via blog...

This all started in March of 2014. The divorce “began” January of 2015. As a form of therapy, I started my Instagram account, @homesweethoneydolist. I can safely say, it, as well as the people I have met through Instagram, saved me. I was headed down a very dark path and- well…this is a story for another time. 

Right now, all you need to know is that I am okay! 

I am happy. 

D1 is happy. 

We are both still friends and both still happy but not together. 

I want to say thank you to all my followers for your patience with me. If I haven’t been the bubbly J that you all know and love, this has been why but I am back now and with more ridiculous stories than ever to tell you!

In fact…I am on chapter 6 of MY BOOK (that’s right people…I’m writing a book) If you want to know WTF happened and WTF I did after divorcing my highschool sweetheart, stay tuned. I hope to have it ready by spring of 2016. I promise lots of laughs, tears, attitude, and emojis (yes, my book with have emojis!)

Love you all!

Can’t wait to share what a crazy adventure these last few months have been for me!

Xoxo, J