Today is the first anniversary of my divorce. I don’t really know what to say about it, but I feel like I need to acknowledge it.
It’s a situation a lot of people don’t seem to understand. Mike and I get along better now than we ever did married. We go out to dinner, we walk the dog, we even went to South Padre for the weekend earlier this summer. I mean, who else are you going to be more comfortable going away with for the weekend than someone you lived with for eight years?
My mom even refers to him as “your friend, Mike.”
Our friendship doesn’t change the fact that he was a shit husband (and he’d probably say I was a shit wife – though I prefer to think of myself as spirited), but he is a much better friend. I guess when you move across the country with someone to a place where neither of you knows anyone, you kind of stick together. It’s a shame that amicable divorces are that rare that we’re judged more harshly for being on good terms with our former spouses than we are for dragging each other through the mud.
Am I happy I’m divorced? Not exactly. Was it a positive change in my life? Absolutely. I’m in a much better place now that I’m not holding myself responsible for things I can’t control.