“Once you’re labeled ‘divorcee’, things will never be the same for you.”  “Now that you are a ‘divorcee’ the luxury of choosing your husband will be long gone; men and families would not favor you as a life partner anymore.” And what topped them all “being a divorced woman makes you an easy prey.”

These were just some of the few things I’ve heard from some family members when I finally decided I want a divorce.

Despite the fact that divorce rates have incredibly been on the rise throughout the past years and especially for our generation these days, it is still by no means an easy journey. I have heard so many painful and tragic divorce stories in the past few years and know for a fact that mine could have been so much worse.  I am thankful that it was at least a decent process that didn’t involve any physical or verbal abuse, like many others around me.

I’m not one who gives up easily especially when it’s about things I have chosen to go through, so when it came to my past marriage, it took so much for me to finally decide to walk out and never look back again. I had to make this decision after five months of barely involving anyone in the marital problems so I can decide on my own, away from any possible bias or pressure. My father was going through his chemotherapy; my mother and brothers were consumed with his painful journey so I never let them in on any of my sorrows.

It took so much pain for me to decide to pick myself up and start rediscovering the person I knew I always was but stopped from truly living. It’s like I was half asleep for a few years; hearing and seeing everything around me but subconsciously blocking it all out, only keeping what I want to believe, what I wish would be my chosen reality.

But through it all, I’ve been forgetting about me; forgetting about what makes sense. I blinded myself to what was really out there, what was bringing me all the way down to rock bottom. Surrounded by emotional ruthlessness that was nothing but manipulative; I blocked the good and only let in the bad. The kind of bad that slowly creeps into you and rips you apart, tears down every self protective wall you spent years building as you go from one journey into the other, until you have nothing left to fight with anymore and nothing to even fight for.

Suddenly, the only thing I saw was everything I’ve been trying so hard not to accept. It hit me so badly and was like a loud and painful slap on the face shaking me out of my senses. I literally felt nothing for a while. But that was after what seemed to be endless deep rooted pain, sorrow, anger, confusion, too much hatred, bitterness like never before, too much blame and, at that time, regret. Almost an alcoholic, I wanted to get out of my skin, out of my mind; I wished so badly to just get out of my head or just pull my heart and brain out into my hands till there was nothing to send out any sort of impulse to anything in me. I wanted to feel empty; I wished it would happen so badly that it happened.

Blank. I remember walking in what used to be home but gradually turned into a house and feeling like I am walking into a stranger’s house until it became just space. I was surrounded by nothing but void. Every passing day was a new kind of torture, emotional, mental and physical torture until I got myself immune to it all. It felt like it was the end of me, it hurt so much that I felt so numb, a feeling that was of absolute bliss back then.

I made friends with objects; they were the only things I could allow myself to let go in front of. I made my peace with the mess and let go of comfort, the term no longer existed in my system. Too many things banished till I was left with my thoughts that got me hysterical at times; too hysterical that I scared myself of me. There came a time when I felt I was too much of an evil person, evil to myself; I was so unkind to me. I made the pain worse by feeding it with blame and anxiety and even more false hope. I had faith in everything but myself. I had faith in morality, in fairness, in humankind, in emotions, in companionship, in marriage; I had so much faith in one’s conscience and principles, but not mine. I stripped myself the right of feeling the least respect, comfort, attention, affection, communication, peace of mind.

I didn’t want to be alone in it anymore but I also didn’t want sympathy. I wanted the world to know but yet I didn’t. I wanted to snap at everyone for making life so messy, for complicating everything and for taking things for granted. I felt the need to tell everyone they needed to wake up and realize how they hurt people around them one way or another and to stop living life the wrong way.

A few months passed with no more dignity to bring me up. Until one day, I went to bed with one thought in my mind, that I would wake up the next morning and finally free myself or rather try to find that self again and work hard on keeping it this time. I did what I promised myself to do before I sunk so deep in the destructive gutter of nothing but unfairness to the self I used to value so much at some point.

I remember sobbing my way out of bed in the morning, with so much fear and resistance but with enough pain to wake me up and make me take the smallest step forward. I had already packed from the night before so I wouldn’t give myself an excuse to stay behind. I dragged myself to the car. I remember sitting there, staring at my phone, crying so hard hoping it would ring and give me that last bit of hope of mending my life, putting the pieces back together. But just like every other day, everybody I did not want to find me, did; except that one person. The one person I’ve been waiting to reappear and pick me up again. I started the car and switched off the damned phone as I said my silent goodbyes to the void that’s been keeping me just technically safe and alive for the past months.

There comes a point in your life where you get it all wrong. And this is how you wake up after stepping on yourself, after letting others walk all over you; you wake up and slowly lift yourself up and take it one step at a time. With each step, the pain gets deeper, it grows into a whole lot of piled up sorrows until it explodes. It finds its way out of your tormented system and this is how it departs, then you start picking up the pieces from your hurtful memories, from your self-betraying past. But when you finally work your way out of it, you never regret anything you went through because without it, you would not be the person you have become.

Now, I respect every part of me and I know what I’m worth; “divorcee” or not, I shut out meaningless societal labels and decided that what is important is to be kind to myself and stop beating myself up over the past. I learned not to be ashamed of what I let myself go through. I’m not sad about what I lost, because whatever I lost, I was never supposed to really keep holding onto. I lost it because it was not worth keeping. I decided to fight for my well being, the well being of those I love, those who deserve to be taken care of, those who need to be lifted up just like we all do once or more in our lives.

I have feelings again, I have real emotions this time; no longer the fairy tale of a wedding and that soul mate to make me happy. I have never and will never give up on love, companionship, marriage, or just a simple real relationship; I’ve only grown up and out of pain; I know I’ll be ok. That’s what makes a difference to my life, the realization that I will be just fine, alone or not. I care so much more about the person that I am, I know what I deserve to get and what I owe to give.

I am a happy being even when loneliness hits me, and it does hit me a lot, I’m still a happy person. The tears feel different, they feel so much lighter than they used to; they’re no longer that burning sensation that stings every part of me. My smiles are more real than they ever were. My laughs, even the giggles are heartfelt. I’ve missed the joyful person that I have always been.

The rest of my life is another beginning. With a lot of lessons learnt. I will fall again, I’m sure I will, but I’m also sure I will never put myself through the same kind of pain, not even close, because I’ve grown through the experience. I certainly love that experience for waking me up and reminding me of what life is worth and I’m ready to take more of it in. I’ll digest it differently; I already started. I’m digesting it with more logic, maturity, joy, and lots of love to share. I learned to love myself. I’m filling up my cup and pouring out of it for those around me. But I know I’m filling up mine too, for a change.