Today is my third wedding anniversary. Which, under normal circumstances, would be something to be celebrated, but given the fact that I had my divorce papers signed and notarized today, it was not a happy occasion. Nor was it an entirely sad one. I felt relief that the end is in sight, grief for what I've lost, sad for what might of been and hope that I can start life anew.
I live in a world of big, shiny diamonds, $30,000 weddings and designer gowns. I used to buy into the myth--I believe I was more invested in the wedding itself than I was in the marriage. A poor investment with a $70,000 loss, not counting attorneys' fees. And I am sad for both of us. Sad that I couldn't be what he wanted or expected, sad that I have outgrown what I thought I needed and expected. Sad that I thought years of togetherness and companionship and fun would equal a happy marriage and was too scared or stubborn to jump off the wedding merry-go-round.
I now know better and am surprisingly optimistic about the second time around. Because it's not about the day, it's about the lifetime. Of intimacy, of understanding, of shared vision and passion and learning and growth and maturity and the infinite possibilities life has to offer if you dare to live authentically.
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