A Couch in the Kitchen: Facing Divorce as a 49-Year-Old Breast Cancer Survivor
Saturday, October 14, 2023
I try to keep my voice light and untroubled as I quickly tour the movers through the home Mike and I bought only a year and a half ago, pointing out which furniture will go to my new place and which will stay here. Mike had told me to just take everything but the mattress – and maybe the futon so he could still watch TV in the loft. But I figured 2500 square feet of empty house would be depressing for anyone, and our daughter Grace would be here with him half the time, too.
My eyes angle down as I descend the carpeted stairs in the too-short Lululemon skirt I recently treated myself to from the sale rack while shopping with my daughter Alex. I discreetly tug the hem as I walk, trying to keep my curvy thighs under wraps.
“Sorry. We’re getting divorced and it’s just hard,” I say, not really sure what I’m apologizing for. “I had a pretty rough night. I almost canceled you guys, I was so overwhelmed and unsure…” my voice breaks as I look up and into the warm hazel eyes of the main mover guy.
He leans in and says softly, “ I understand. I just went through it myself a year and a half ago. It’s hard, but it’s for the best. Or at least in my case, it was,” he shrugs. His voice is low and calm. He looks right into my bloodshot eyes, and I feel seen. He has wavy salt and pepper hair and his face is lined from years of smiling. Around my age, I guess.
“I think it will be for the best in my case, too. I’m the one who asked for the divorce. But it’s still hard. Still complicated. Still sad,” I say.
“Yeah, divorce is basically an agreement that you’re giving up on your marriage, on yourselves really. You’re admitting defeat.”
“Yes, admitting you failed at marriage… again,” I say, shaking my head. “This is my third time. I never saw myself as someone who would be married three times, let alone divorced three times.”
Yesterday was the 22nd anniversary of my wedding. October 13, 2001. Not my wedding day with Mike. The first one. The starter marriage that lasted less than a year. It’s crazy to think that if Ian and I had stayed married, we’d be celebrating 22 years together. I would be someone who had stayed married for 22 years. Instead of who I am.