I’ve referred to myself as the Dildo Dealer before, but honestly that title came following another one: Divorce Spokesperson. I really don’t want to be that woman. I actually love love. I have even dedicated time writing How They Met stories, proving to myself and others, that lifelong love between couples does really exist. However, I am on Team Happy. And, sometimes, Team Happy has to root for miserable marriages to end. Â
Any time spent unhappy is wasted time; time expended complaining could be better spent pursuing happiness. When someone is on the tail end of a relationship, there is no sentiment that rings truer than “Life’s too short.” The go-round of this particular physical journey has roughly 100 years if we’re lucky, which really is too short of a span to spend a majority of each day anything less than joyful. I think we innately know this upon birth, and then forget it, and then hopefully remember it again sometime in our adulthood.
Every time I hear yet another woman tell me this same story, I faintly hear ‘Tale as Old as Time’ by my favorite teapot from Disney’s Beauty and the Beast. This tale is as old as time, or at least plays on repeat like time itself. If I were to guess, I would say it’s been around at least as long as women were able to initiate divorce. This story is definitely true as can be. I have lived it twice and heard it numerous times.
Two working adults get married. (I’m going to generalize this to man and woman because that was my instance and every instance I am going to refer to in this post). Woman has a baby or three or five. She then leaves the workforce to raise the child/children. In my case, I left my job willingly, and I know I’m not the only mom to have done so. Had I loved my career, maybe things would have played out differently. Mom works part-time or tries to hustle money off whatever type of side-gig that allows her to be the adult spending the most formative years with her children. Even though it’s common knowledge that no price tag can be attached to parenting, the main bread winner (man of the house) holds income earned as a chess piece in the game of control. Any argument, no matter the issue at hand, comes down to who makes the money for the family. Eventually, Mom would rather spend time with cute kids than the grumpy dude.  The relationship unravels.  The woman puts up with mucho, mucho shit (i.e. disrespect) for longer than she would have if there were no children’s lives to consider first. Â
It eventually dons on the woman that children should live in a happy home. They deserve to have a loving relationship as an example set before them. But… money. The man belittles the woman, making her doubt her worth. The woman has been out of the workforce for years. Technology and the work vernacular in every career advanced at light speed while she was teaching her offspring to count, share and look both ways. She grits her teeth and survives each long day with a cringe and the depression that adjoins being stuck in unhappy. She has friends and family that would take her in, but her and the kids…that’s a bit too much inconvenience and expense to shoulder in most homes. The side-gig or part time job doesn’t provide enough for rent. He knows this and makes sure to remind her of the fact.Â
Post separation, I was told by a family member that she knew I was going to leave my marriage when just one more thing happened. I hadn’t even realized I’d drawn the line, but looking back, I had. I was fed up but didn’t want to give up, so I was simply waiting for a shove in that direction. My tipping point came with spit in my face, a punched rearview mirror, and my phone broken in half. I got my one more thing. Â
I was blessed enough to have a marriage certificate and, therefore was an owner of half of the equity in our house even though my name was not on that mortgage. I chose to take my children with me out of the house on the One More Thing day. I didn’t care to live where negative energy had been spewed in every nook and cranny, and I didn’t want to go through the rigmarole of living with a man that could flip out at any split second of not getting his way. Based on his actions, an Occupation Order could have been an answer at the time, but that, like finalizing a divorce, takes time. I chose the path of least resistance and moved out that day, going back when he was at work to grab necessities and belongings.
I was a part-time teacher at the time, and it was October. I had to finish the school year under my current contract and find other means of making money to make my pay full-time. After 7 months of cramped and frustrated (but appreciated) living with my parents, my children and I were able to get into our own apartment and start life again. My first purchase for our new home was a pizza pan and cutter. (Not the one in the picture, though. That one is way nicer than what I had money for at the time. Remember, I am on Team Happy, which is not necessarily Team Financially Well-Off.)
The second time I was homeless with children came with a throat choke. My name wasn’t on a certificate or deed or rent contract. I actually worked for the guy I was moving away from, so I lost my job too. Apparently that whole gaining wisdom with age notion hadn’t caught up with me yet. I was blessed again though, having family open their doors for us for 6 months with just a small rent fee. After this ‘what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger’ go round, I became a first time home-owner. I fixed up the small home I could afford and later sold it for a $26,000 profit. As always, there was good created from the bad.
I began writing this blog a few months ago because I was fired up that two of my sweet friends were living through the same sagas that I crawled through years before. I oftentimes hear them telling a story, my story, of a controlling man who has the upper hand due to money. I’ve noticed some women start lining their ducks up in some type of row, saving back cash and preparing for work – with sights set on being happy sometime in the future. Some just continue living unhappily because the comforts and established routines of a two-income family are nearly impossible to escape once they exist. Both scenarios speak to my heart because any time two adults are living unhappily together, the home exudes a palpable energy. How can two unhappy adults in an unhappy home nurture happy children?
Lawyers seem to want to drag out divorce proceedings as long as possible. Other than the obvious reason for this (dinero), the longer it gets drawn out, the expectations for getting what you want and energy for fighting are lowered. At some point within my 2-year battle, I got to a point that I just wanted to be divorced. Money wasn’t even reason enough to keep at it. Team Happy conquered Team Money, hands down. Impatience affected my motivation and motivation increased my strength.Â
My experiences humbled me, made me stronger and eventually enhanced my life. Team Happy saw me through. I was happier and better off on the other side of hell, both times.  My mother always preached to my sister and me: Work! Have a job! Finish school! She was a high school drop-out who worked outside of the home fewer years than I have fingers on one hand. She married my dad at 16, had her first of four at 18 and at 77 has yet to fill her own gas tank on her car. Now I tell my daughter to avoid living situations where she could be told to “Get out!” and to stay mindful of her independence and who is in charge of it. So, maybe our calling is just to always pass down our knowledge as we learn it to be a truth and every generation gets a little bit stronger and smarter and better.
However, I also feel a calling to support other women (always) but especially those getting back on their feet. The librarian at the school I was teaching at when I was going through my divorce once called me into her office and handed me $50. She said she, too, had gone through a divorce while mommin’ and money was always needed. That money sincerely did help.  I dream of eventually owning a living space specifically for women with children getting back on their feet – their limbo home that provides safety and stability while starting over on their way to the pride that comes with owning their own home. However, while I currently grind to get my own bills paid, I don’t commonly have a surplus of money to provide to others. So, what I can do is listen while these friends vent the stories I once spewed. Or, I can paint their living space to spur new beginnings. Or, I can build a small website for their side-gig to help get that money duck in row. And, I can advocate for them by asking others to not take sides, but instead, join Team Happy. Consider what you can do to help another join the team.
I love this so much! I feel like I am working up to my “happy.” I am in limbo at the moment because of financial reasons. But one day soon I will be able to be on the happy side of life. 🙂
Aw – I can remember when I was going through my divorce, people would tell me it was going to get worse before it got better. I was so tired of hearing that because I knew it was so true. lol It 100% is just one of those things. At least take some time for a few happy moments every day. “And Just Like That” called it a Me-vening. 🙂