Hell has frozen over

I never believed in divorce.  I believed that marital vows were forever and you worked problems out.

I didn't think I'd be "that person" in a bad marital situation.

Over the last eight months, the "stable" home life I lived became utterly intolerable.  Through much soul-searching and prayer, I made a decision I never dreamed I'd make.  For reasons I will not go into here, I ultimately filed for divorce.  I moved out about six weeks ago to a temporary home until the townhouse I am buying goes through the short sale process.

In that six weeks, I've noticed some changes.  For example, food had become a means to an end for me – I cooked because I had to eat. Now, when I walk in the door after work or when I wake up on the weekend, I rub my hands together in glee that I get to create.  

I had stopped singing for the joy of it.  No jitterbugging around the kitchen to Stevie Nicks while I cooked.  Laughter was hard to come by.

I simply closed down.  To protect myself, I think.

Now?  Tunes are rocking all the time.  I sing at the top of my lungs.  I cook.  I bake.  I am happy.  I have found a measure of peace.  I feel like me again.  Recipe scribbles are showing up on scraps of paper.  This is the beginning of the rest of my life and I intend to start as I mean to go on.

Stay tuned.



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