I’ve often thought that there is a cord that wraps through our lives. It carries our family memories, our passions, who we were, the worries we carry our entire lives. It wraps around us; our relationships they become strands within it. I think of my triumphs and my sadness, of all things that have given me strength to go forward and the things that have held me back. That’s the cord, filled with strands.
There was a strand of unhappy in my cord. A thin one, ever present. It just never really went away. In the happiest of times it was there, a mild shadow. Ignored, brushed aside. A thing I looked at in the middle of the night, sometimes. It grew denser and blacker and stronger in the hard times.
The thing about the cord of our lives and the way it wraps around our relationships is that you can’t cut a strand. You cut the cord. So I ignored the strand. It was not all bad. It was often good. Just never free of the strand. 16 years. The strand just robs and robs and robs.
This week I cut the cord. We cut the cord. Mr. Spit and I are divorcing.
It’s sad. We are tired. It hurts. There’s a terrible cost, it’s an awful thing to cause someone hurt for your happiness. If I still believe in sin, surely this must be a sin. So too is it a sin to ignore unhappy. There are no rewards for it.
I balanced on a knife-edge trying to find my way around it for 16 years. I finally realized, that’s the thing about cords. You can cut them, splice them, stretch them and change them. You can swap out strands. Our son will hold us together. He has been in my life for all my life. I’ve no intention of writing him out of memory. I love him too much for that.
Mr. Spit will no longer be my husband. We will, I hope, I think, I pray, return to what we began with – a friendship.