Pics from my new place^
So with that, let's talk about dating after divorce. Actually let's just talk about dating in general.
Any single, twenty something year old would agree that it's pretty normal to be asked about your dating life within any small talk that lasts more than 60 seconds. In the months that followed my divorce people seemed to avoid this question, which I appreciated. Let's be real, if there's anything worse than dating it's being asked about dating. But everyone does it, including myself, it's part of not just being human, but especially being human in Utah. Every person in my age group seems to be somewhat defined by their answer to the "How's dating?" question. No matter how much we dislike it, we aren't going to change it, so acceptance is the only solution at this point.
One thing that became very clear shortly after my marriage ended, was that I was no where near ready to date again. I spent a few months denying this. Which I don't beat myself up over. Anyone can tell you what they think is right for you, but until they're actually in your circumstance it's hard to know what is best for you in particular. You have to try things and fail and then adapt, and hopefully find a happy medium somewhere in between.
And at that point, it seemed reasonable that going on so many dates a week would somehow cure the deep rooted loneliness I felt on a constant basis. So I went out a lot. Even though everything in me wanted to spend every night watching Grey's Anatomy or formulating a plan to leave the state and find my life elsewhere.. I didn't. (Most of the time) I forced myself to be around people. I dated a lot. And in the process, I learned how to paint a picture of myself that I liked. One that included my bachelor's degree, my career goals, and my hobbies. One that didn't include my failed relationship. It didn't include the sleepless nights I spent wondering if my marriage and the life I was living at the point was as good as it gets. It didn't include a baby boy that I loved with all my heart passing away in my arms. It didn't include any of that. It just included the pretty details. The happy ones.
And during that process, I began to hate the baggage it was so clear that I had. You don't come out of those types of things without feeling a little crazy. Or maybe things like that help you stop denying the craziness that was always there to begin with. Either way, when I finally started dating again I felt a need to hide those details. I felt like who I was, wasn't good enough without some sort of explanation, and I didn't want to have to explain it to any new comers. This fear of not being good enough became a reality when one day, I was told that someone had wanted to ask me out until they saw the posts about my son on Facebook. They decided not to because they didn't know how to do "deal" with that.
I wish I could say I didn't let it affect me, but that wouldn't be accurate. Because suddenly, I felt ashamed of my past. While I've usually made it a point to give my son a presence in the world, which included my online space, that began to change. I privatized everything and made it harder to access any pictures that made reference to any part of that 2 years, including Jon Gabriel.
Then there was this blog itself. It's obviously public, so anyone that wants to can access all kinds of personal stories of mine through a quick google search. I thought long and hard about it, and decided it would be best to shut down my blog completely.
Before I did, I mentioned this plan to my therapist.
He seemed surprised and asked me why I felt the need to do that. He wasn't satisfied with my "just because" answer so I explained further,
"It just tells a lot of details about my story. About grieving the loss of Jon Gabriel, and the loss of my marriage etc. Honestly I think if someone doesn't know me, it can make me look a little crazy maybe, I dunno. Boys don't know how to deal with those kind of things.."
Literally without skipping a beat he said:
"Boys don't know how to deal with it. Men do."
Haha. It was a valid point.. but still. It didn't make sense to let people know about my broken past, so early on. Hiding it seemed like the best option.
My therapist continued,
"In WHAT WORLD do those kind of experiences subtract from a person, Maddie? "
I realized I might be looking at it all the wrong way.
Shortly after, my Aunt Lezlee gave me a few paintings she bought from the Salt Lake farmers market. One of them had a this quote against a colorful backdrop:
"Don't you see? The parts you call "broken" are the very places where your light shines the brightest."
My eyes got a little teary as I realized God always manages to intervene at the perfect time.
And finally, I came to the conclusion I was meant to come to all along: My story is enough. It's more than enough. Those 2 years of my life, and everything i've been through since, they only add to who I am and who i've become. It's not something to hide from or be in denial about. Because it makes up every piece of me. And it's those same pieces that make me more capable of seeing the beautiful pieces that make others who they are.
It's all connected.
There's a million dating websites out there where people fill out their profile with details about their favorite hobbies, their likes and dislikes, what they aspire to be, etc. It makes sense for people to connect in this way, but you can only talk about how much you like adventures and netflix for so long before you feel like you're just like everyone else.
And in a culture where it's easy to feel like you don't stand out, i've learned it's your past, every little part of your life that has made you who you are today, that separates you from the rest. Especially the hard stuff. The stuff that brings you to your knees and makes you have to redefine every part of who you are. It's those experiences that make you, you. All those little stories are the reason you are irreplaceable.
And in the process, it's normal to fear that those things will make you appear broken or that people will look down on you for it. But the truth is, it's those exact things that make you pretty kick a**. Why? Because people might like the same past times as you, or watch the same netflix series you do. But NOBODY has had a human experience quite like yours. And it is YOUR story that allows you to be there for other people who are experiencing their own rock bottom.
How perfect is that?
So these days, dating has become so much better. I won't be getting married any time soon, and that has changed the dating game for me. Takes the pressure off a little, you know? I'll go out with people and we'll exchange stories, sometimes i'll share a little bit of detail from those two years, sometimes I won't. Sometimes i'll talk about other things. Like about a few months ago how I nearly packed up everything and moved to Florida for a couple of years, but I ended up staying when I got a job working for a non profit agency and when I realized how much I love Salt Lake City. Or how one of my best friends and I just found the cutest little apt up here (see pics above). And how we got a dog named Jack.
Now, it's become so much fun to meet people and hear their stories. Find out why they are the way there are, and make some good friends in the process. Either way, once you don't feel like you have to fit into a "mold" of some sort, dating is so much better. It's like as soon as you stop trying to "fix" what isn't broken and stop feeling the need to please everyone around you, the right people come into your life and the wrong one's leave. And then your story is able to take you to where you are in this moment. Which is exactly where you're meant to be:)
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