As we gathered in my children’s living room and spoke about the divorce, it happened.
That dreadful thing that has become such a big part of me.
I was unable to hold back Bilingual Mom.
I cried and cried and cried some more..
And then I cried again.
Then I apologized for crying.
This would become my pattern.
Crying had become my superpower-only it wasn’t super.
I have prayed so many times for God to help control my crying.
I know it is hard on my boys to have their Mom cry so much.
I also knew it took so much away from me.
The crying controlled me and I hated that.
I needed to be strong and have self-control if I was going to walk through this process.
My boys felt confident after they had spoken with their Dad that he was going to treat
me fairly in the divorce.
If Dad messes their Mom over, he messes them over, they told me.
And they didn’t believe their Dad would do the right thing.
I knew that what my husband wanted my boys to believe of him would not be the
reality of what I would actually be dealing with.
You learn things about people when you are with them for so much of your life.
Something I had always known about my husband is that he has very strong
anti-woman feelings regarding certain things including divorce and I knew that this
would be directed toward me as well.
I knew he would do everything possible to make sure I received the kind of divorce
treatment he felt I was “worthy” of-not what was actually fair or appropriate.
For most of our marriage I had listened to him tell me how much he did for our family.
How hard he worked for our family.
How only his paycheck had ever really mattered or made a difference for our family.
How only “he” had made any real contributions to our family.
He was not about to walk away from the divorce giving anything to me he wasn’t
absolutely required to by law-if that.
I had seen how he viewed the divorces of other men.
As a Dad, he wanted our boys to think he was going to be a good person and do the
“right thing”.
How he looked in their eyes was important to him.
What he actually did to me was another matter…

A few days after being told about the divorce, my oldest son contacted me and said
that we were all going to have a family meeting regarding everything (minus my
husband).
“Family” was now taking on a different meaning.
I told myself while driving to my two older boys’ home that I was going to be strong.
I wasn’t going to let Bilingual Mom come out and speak in her crying language.
I can do this, I told myself.
My 3 sons and my son’s girlfriend, who I loved as my own, gathered in their living room
and we started discussing the divorce.
They did their best to tell me everything was going to be ok.
Words every person going through a divorce hears-but isn’t reassured by.
Then they started giving me specifics about the divorce.
They talked about Spousal Support, their Dad retiring and how that would affect me.
They brought up the need for me to get employment that provided health insurance
since I would be losing my health plan under their Dad.
I suddenly realized that not only had my husband told my boys he was going to be
asking me for a divorce-he had talked to them about details.
Details I didn’t even know-like him retiring.
He had made sure and prepped and planned around me in my blissful ignorance.
He had done everything he could to make the process as easy on himself as he
could-even including our children in the process.
My sorrow for my boys having to endure this broke my heart.
There is something that happens inside you when you start seeing your life partner as
a coward and conniving.
I didn’t want to see him, hear him or sense he was anywhere near me.
I would come to learn that my boys were not the only ones that he told about the
divorce before talking to me.
He had spoken to multiple people, including some of our neighbors.
He had even discussed rehoming some of my animals with neighbors before I knew
about the divorce.
What in the world?
What was happening to my life.
How could this be my new reality?
It didn’t feel real.
This was hard to wrap my head around and felt very cruel.
He had planned this out for some time.
I felt ashamed and embarrassed.
It felt like everyone was in on the joke but me…

I felt a sense of release when I was throwing my tantrum, but the next morning when I
woke up I felt guilty about being so childish.
Not that I think the chickens or the goats minded, but I still felt bad about it and told
myself that I would only allow myself that one tantrum.
After my son had returned home, he walked around the house putting almost
everything back up that he was able to.
All by himself.
He didn’t like the idea of living in the house with everything taken down.
I felt bad that I hadn’t thought of how it might affect him when I was ripping everything
down.
I apologized for my tantrum.
I kept my word to myself and haven’t thrown a tantrum like that since.
I’ve still had emotional moments.
Very emotional outbursts and moments.
But nothing like that tantrum.
My first plan of action was to just lay in bed, do nothing and let my husband divorce
me.
I decided to give my boys Power of Attorney to sign everything and allow them to
share among themselves anything that went to me in the divorce.
I wanted no part in the dismantling process of our family.
I sent a long message to my boys and told them this plan.
I was walking around in a haze and just wanted to quietly find another world to live in.
After a few days, I followed up the message I sent my boys with a long apology
message and told them I would do my best to try to pick myself up and walk through
the divorce with a little more dignity.
Both messages were pathetic.
I hated being so pathetic and yet I couldn’t seem to control it.
Nothing I was saying or doing made sense.
Goodness there is nothing like having your parents go through a divorce and your Mom
is losing her mind and sending you her emotional ramblings.
The stress this must have added to my boys brings me such shame.
To make matters worse I had neglected my health for a long time and was in the
process of trying to take care of some serious health issues.
I cried out to God that I couldn’t handle both the divorce and the health issues at the
same time.
I was as close to a breakdown as I had ever been…

I don’t remember how long I stayed in bed.
I got out periodically to take the dogs to the bathroom, but even that was less than
they were accustomed to.
I didn’t sleep.
Insomnia was my companion.
Thoughts came from every direction and took over my whole being.
I cried.
I cried.
I cried.
And then I cried some more.
I had multiple conversations with God.
My relationship with him was already suffering-surely he wasn’t going to let the last
27 plus years end like this?
Not after everything that had been endured.
Not after all the praying.
Not after all the begging.
Please don’t add divorce to everything else.
Where was he?
I’m sure he was asking the same question of me.
Where was I?
I have done a lot of praying these past few years, but that had become the extent of
my relationship and walking with him.
I’m not sure how long I had been in bed before my youngest son came back home.
He had gone to his brother’s house so they could watch over him for a few days in the
midst of all the chaos.
Because my two oldest sons had already moved out but our youngest son was still
living in the Family home, the divorce has affected him in a different way.
It became a different kind of burden for him.
I hate when people say divorce doesn’t affect grown children.
It’s horrible for all children, but in many ways I believe it is worse for adult children.
I think some parents of adult children that divorce like to say that their children are
grown and they will be fine.
I think they say this to make themselves feel better about the divorce.
The children are never fine.
Yes, life goes on, but at a price for all.
My son came home and crawled into bed with me and told his Mama she was going to
be ok.
YOU are going to get through this Mom.
WE are going to get through this Mom.
In the midst of my sorrows, having my boy next to me was a comfort that can only be
understood by others who have gone through this pain.
And in spite of knowing how pathetic you are in these moments-you just can’t seem to
pull yourself out of them.
No matter how hard you try.
You can’t stop the fear you feel.
You can’t stop the sorrow you feel.
You can’t stop the disbelief you feel.
Every thought was overwhelming me and swallowing me in a dark cloud.
Somebody else was making decisions that affected every part of my life and I had
no say in any of it.
No control over it.
I felt more old and more tired than I ever had before.
This can’t be happening.
Please God don’t let this happen to me or my boys.
I knew that my husband and I had many issues in our relationship.
But I knew that everybody had issues in their relationships.
My husband was the only man I had ever been in a relationship with.
I chose to marry him.
I chose to make a commitment and I believed in it.
I’ve seen a lot of divorces.
Almost every young couple that married around the same time my husband and I had
married had gotten divorced.
I had always been determined that this would not be the path for me or my children.
I’ve never seen a divorce where the children didn’t suffer in some way for the rest of
their families lives.
People learn to move on from divorce, but the suffering is always there.
Family roles change.
Responsibilities change.
Relationships become strained and fractured.
Different life events take on different meanings.
Because of this, no matter what happened within our marriage, I was determined to
endure it.
I have always felt like more would be lost in divorce than in staying in my marriage.
I was willing to be set on fire every day of my life before putting my boys through a
divorce.
It doesn’t matter how absurd something like that sounds-when you’re living it every
day it becomes your normal.
A strong relationship between parents is a gift we give our children.
How can I know this and still have failed at it?
And if I’m so aware of how broken we were as a couple, why was the divorce so
devastating to me?
I can’t explain this.
Where is the strong woman I once was?
When I look over my married life and how things were from the very beginning, I have
to accept that with all the brokenness we had, there was never going to be a forever in
our journey…

I was in a terrible state to talk that night.
In between fear, disbelief and crying, I was useless for quality conversation.
I was in shock not only about my husband telling me he was divorcing me, but that he
had gone to our boys and told them before me.
I knew that he had done this to make things easier for himself.
How he looked in this process was important to him and he wanted the upper hand.
Even at the expense of our children’s emotions.
I have read over and over that the proper way to tell your children about a divorce, no
matter what the age, is to do it together.
Face the emotions together.
He had done what worked best for him.
Something I think I had gotten used to in our years together but did not quite know the
extent of until the divorce process.
I felt torpedoed for myself, but my heart was crushed for my boys.
No child should have to be put in that position in their parents’ divorce.
There was not a lot I was able to talk about that evening and after my boys went home
I threw a tantrum.
A tantrum for my own personal pleasure as there was nobody else to really watch it
unfold except my 3 dogs, 2 fish, 1 rabbit, 5 chickens and 2 goats.
As the reality of things started sinking in, my anguish at my husband choosing to
dismantle our family and seek happiness on a different path tore my heart to pieces.
Thoughts rushed in and as I looked back over that past year or two (maybe more) and I
realized how long he must have been preparing to ask me for a divorce.
Something had felt off to me, but I pushed it to the side as improvements to our home
took shape.
But now the reality of everything began to hit me.
All the yard work and landscaping he had suddenly gotten around to doing.
All the house updates he had suddenly gotten done.
Buying me a new used car of my own in the past few months.
My old one had been turned over to our youngest son.
I would learn that he got me the car to balance out his intention of taking his car and
our truck in the divorce-as well as a dismantled Bronco.
I cried with happiness the day he pulled up in our driveway with the car for me.
I’m embarrassed now at what he must have been thinking when he saw me so excited
about something he was giving to me with bad intentions.
He had recently sold our travel trailer and told my son and I that it was to “update to a
newer one before it lost too much value”.
But he could never quite give us an answer as to when we were getting the new one to
go family camping with.
When I think about the conversations our youngest son had with his Dad and I talking
about planning a trip to our favorite place at the beach and the hemming and hawing
my husband had done knowing full well that wasn’t going to happen, I am so sad.
He had also gotten rid of the old truck that had sat in our yard for the past 15 plus
years.
A truck that I thought he would never get rid of.
It had become a permanent part of our landscape.
The list goes on and on for the home improvements that took place.
I felt Blessed and happy that it was all happening, yet I now know they were done in
preparation for asking me for a divorce and selling our home.
Goodness was I was feeling like a fool.
Fool isn’t even a strong enough word.
At the realization that everything was done to divorce me, the joy I had once felt for all
the wonderful changes in my home and yard left me.
Everything took on new meaning.
What once brought me joy gave me a deep sorrow I had never felt before.
That evening after my boys had left, I walked around my yard like a tornado.
Talking and crying to myself.
I ripped down birdhouses that I had put around our yard.
They were not in use at the time as the season had passed for the babies, but when it
was the season for babies I took so much pleasure in watching as the birds went in and
out of the houses to care for their little ones.
I picked up paving stones from our yard that represented our family over the years.
I took down the sign that had our family name on it.
I ripped down my solar lights that lined my treasured garden like fairy lights.
I even ripped up some of my yard plants that got in the way of my path of destruction.
I took down my beautiful bird bath.
The one that brought me so much joy when I watched the birds dance and play in it
daily.
It had become a favorite attraction in my yard for the birds and me.
Watching hummingbirds dance in a fountain of water is magical.
I cut down my hammock from between the trees.
I gathered everything and carried it to my shed and stacked it in a pile.
I wanted nothing to do with any of it anymore.
Next, I turned my attention to the inside of my house.
I walked around taking pictures and decor off the walls.
I took the curtains down.
I gathered up family pictures and placed them in a pile.
I no longer wanted my husband to even glance at the family I felt he was betraying.
I stacked everything on the kitchen table, gathered my 2 inside dogs and crawled into
bed…

I am a cryer.
I have always been a cryer.
My emotions spill out of me in the form of tears.
Lots and lots of tears.
If I’m sad, I cry
If I’m happy, I cry.
If I’m anything, I cry.
If crying was a job that you could be paid for, I would be a very wealthy woman.
When I called my oldest son that day and asked him and his brothers to come to the
house I was crying in ways I had never cried before.
Fear and shock were coming out of me in sounds not familiar to me up to this point.
I’ve shed lots of tears-but none with those emotions.
To be honest, my boys are so used to my crying that they must now believe I am
bilingual-speaking both English and Crying.
I paced back and forth in a haze of sobbing and waiting for them to arrive at the house
so we could have a big family conversation about what was going on.
Surely we could set things right.
I wasn’t naive to think that we didn’t have a lot of problems within our many years, but I
knew all families did.
I had always held out that our family unit trumped everything else and our family was
forever.
I even entertained thoughts that maybe this was just what our family needed to set
things on a better course and it had been a long time coming.
I was ready for a big family conversation about everything.
I continued to plead with my husband to really think about what he was doing to our
family and how upset our boys would be when they got to the house and found out
what he was doing.
He continued to simply say ok in a monotone voice with no emotion whatsoever.
There aren’t good enough words to explain the feelings within your heart when a
human being you loved, made babies with and built your entire adult life with sounds
so distant and cold.
When my children arrived at the house my husband was in the garage and I walked
out to the garage as well and met my children as they all got out of their car.
I choked and gasped as I told them that their Dad had just told me he was going to
divorce me.
My oldest son walked up to me and I threw my arms around him and sobbed.
It took some time to regain what composure I could muster, and my son looked at me
and told me that he knew.
I didn’t quite grasp what was happening as I looked at all of their faces.
He knew?
They knew?
How could this be?
I realized that nobody looked shocked.
All of a sudden, a wave of realization hit me.
At that moment I realized why my husband had no emotions about us having to tell
our boys what he had decided to do.
Their Dad had already spoken to them about what he was going to be doing.
This was why he was so confident.
He had made sure to clear the path and had nothing to fear about dealing with any
emotions from our sons.
This was why my youngest son had been asked to go to his brothers and hang out
with them.
The sting of realization set in.
One of my boys would later tell me how mad he was that his Dad had put them in this
position and did things the way he did in telling them before even speaking to me
about the divorce.
He felt terrible about the position his Dad had put them in.
Oh my heart broke for my boys.
I couldn’t imagine how sad they must have been knowing that while they had gathered
together at their home, they knew that their Dad was hitting their Mom with a life
shattering announcement and life would be changing forever for all of us.
My heart could not help but feel like my husband had been a coward to do things this
way.
He selfishly chose what would make things easier for himself.
This was only the beginning of the many things I was to learn…

There are certain dates that seem to stay with us.
Dates that give some sort of meaning to parts of our life.
Days that change our lives-for better or for worse.
The day we are born.
The day our children are born.
The day loved ones die.
The days we are given bad information.
The day we are told our marriage is ending.
That day came for me.
My husband and I were alone in our house.
Our youngest son, who still lived at home, had gone to hang out with his two older
brothers at the house they both shared together about 30-40 minutes away.
Something my Mama heart was excited about for him.
He had voiced to me how happy he was that they had asked him to come over.
Unknown to me, this was part of a plan my husband had put in place to get our son out
of the house so he could be alone with me.
Something that to this day puts a sting in my heart.
I was sitting on the couch and my husband came in and sat down and kept clearing his
throat.
Something I have learned over the past 27 plus years is his precursor to talking to me.
He told me we needed to talk.
Something felt ominous.
I was worried.
I asked him if everything was ok.
Was everyone alright?
My in-laws were both in their 80’s and in frail health of sorts so my first thought was for
them.
Were they ok?
He said yes.
I could tell by his demeanor that something very important was about to be said.
Something told me whatever he was about to say was going to change my world.
It was one of those moments you see in movies that happen quickly yet in slow motion.
He told me that he was divorcing me.
He told me he wanted to find happiness while he still had some time left.
No, No, No my heart shouted within me.
Everything felt loud and quiet at the same time.
This can’t be happening.
Tears fell and words spilled out that I can’t remember.
I’m not actually sure if they were complete words or partial mumbling.
After a few minutes passed I remember telling him he couldn’t do this to our family.
Not a divorce. Our boys deserved better.
I told him he would regret tearing our family apart and he couldn’t possibly want to do
this. Not after all this time of being a family.
He looked at me and said “ok”.
I said “Just wait until we tell our boys”.
He looked at me and said “ok” again.
I told him that our boys were not going to let him destroy our family or do this to me.
He continued to look at me with a glazed look in his eyes and said “ok”.
I was confused.
Why was he so calm and unaffected when I told him we needed to call our boys and
get them over to the house right now and talk as a family.
Why wasn’t he worried about shattering their world?
Something felt off.
Was it just that he had conditioned himself for this moment?
As an avid reader I had read many times about people who had faced the despair of
divorce.
I hated divorce.
I never knew a good divorce.
Ever.
And I knew plenty of divorced people.
No matter how bad the marriage problems were-the divorce always brought terrible
suffering for the families that endured forever.
It was why no matter what happened in my marriage I had conditioned myself to
accept that marriage was forever.
I was filled with grief and shock and feelings of loss.
All of these emotions were rolling off my tongue in unintelligible words.
He was like a zombie.
A divorce zombie.
Nothing I said touched him.
I picked up my cell phone and called my oldest son and in between sobs told him I
needed him and his brothers to come to the house.
He told me they were on their way…

Over the years I have spent more time than I can count reading and scanning the
internet for sites filled with family stories, recipes, information needed for my children’s
school work etc.
It’s endless in its ability to give us almost every kind of information we need (and
sometimes don’t).
People connect and bond over relationships, children, jobs, religion, politics, good
health, bad health-the list goes on and on.
I found sites that informed me, sites that inspired me, sites that comforted me, sites
that brought me laughter.
So many things can happen when we are able to read words and connect with people
from all over the world.
We can read about different parenting experiences.
We can find recipes and make something new every day for the rest of our lives.
We can find just about every kind of advice there is and find pages and pages of
people sharing their hopes, dreams and inspirations.
When I was a younger Mama, I thought about making a Blog for my children that
would talk about my own childhood as well as my joys and struggles being a Mama.
Just everyday things I wanted to share with them.
Time went on and my thoughts, though many, remained unwritten.
Today my 3 children have grown into young men and the thoughts I wished to share
about my childhood and being their Mama have moved a bit to the side.
I have so often heard that writing can bring a person peace and comfort.
A therapy of sorts for some people.
I envy that.
I want that.
I’m not sure if that’s why I finally decided to start writing things down or not.
All I know is that at the age of 52, as life is crumbling all around me, my fingers have
finally started writing.
I’m not sure why yet.
I’m not sure what exactly I plan to write.
I’m not sure if I will regret it or not.
Will I share more than I should?
Will I not share enough out of fear and embarrassment?
Oh, how I wish I was writing about that amazing life I once hoped my children,
grandchildren and great grandchildren would admire me for.
It is far, far from it.
But perhaps the person who may start out as the whiny, scared, rambling woman who
feels terribly, terribly lost right now, will turn into the woman who finds the inner
peace and strength to finally be the person she hoped her children, grandchildren and
great grandchildren would one day admire.
And maybe, just maybe, somewhere in the midst of all the writing, she will find herself
again.
Even if it’s just little pieces at a time…

It’s taken me years to make myself sit down and put my thoughts in writing.
I’ve always admired people that have journaled or kept a diary.
I have always wished I had started at a young age.
My deep love of reading gave me visions of what would happen to the many journals I
would write and someday have read by my children, grandchildren and great
grandchildren.
I envisioned them reading pages and pages of my amazing life and admiring the
woman I was and the life I had lived.
Like some great Pioneer carving the way for them and leaving all kinds of advice for
their lives.
That’s not what happened.
I could never quite get around to getting started.
Life got in the way.
In my 20’s I was newly married and starting down the path of Mamahood.
In my 30’s I started having health issues mingled with the Mamahood.
In my 40’s the health issues persisted and mingled with marriage issues.
In my 50’s my fingers have finally made their way to writing things down, but my
original intent is long gone.
I’m no longer the young girl filled with hopes and dreams.
I’m no longer the young Mom filled with funny stories about her children.
I am no longer the Mom filled with life lessons and hard earned wisdom my family
would some day thank me for.
I am now just a broken down 52 year old woman whose husband told her after 27 plus
years that he is leaving her…