It was one year ago today that I went to my official divorce proceedings. If you haven’t read that post, go check it out. I’ll wait.
And here I am, one year later. Wiser? Maybe. Happier? Sometimes. Better? Not necessarily. Just . . . different.
I still miss things, like. . . Having someone to watch your favorite shows with and to laugh with. Knowing that there’s someone there for you no matter what and being there for someone when they need you. Talking about your day and hashing out problems and sharing the burden of life. Laying next to someone in bed, every night.
I’m functioning on my own, but still not to a point where I’m happy with who single Adam is. I may keep my house relatively clean, but there are times when I let the bills go for a month without looking at them and can’t even think about touching the dishes in the sink. I may make my bed every single morning but that doesn’t mean that there are some mornings when I can barely bring myself to leave it. I enjoy the quiet of a still home at time, and other times I talk to myself to shatter the silence. I know I’m still terribly broken, but the pieces are slowly fitting together as time flies by.
I last saw her a year ago (well, except for this awkward day a few months later), and to this day, I still have nothing but hope that she will be happy. I feel regret that I had to take the steps that I did, because I know all it did was sow confusion and resentment, but when I had the realization that contentment did not equal happiness, I knew I needed change. And I think it was tearing my life apart and rebuilding from scratch that has sharpened my focus on my future and given me that real potential of finding what everyone wants in life: happiness.
So, today is my one-year divorceversary. It’s not a time for congratulations nor a time for regret. It is a celebration of sorts – one year from the day that new Adam was thrust, naked, hairy, and scared, into a new world.