In the Waiting Line

By mutual agreement and mostly because I am the one with the most time on weekday afternoons to actually get Official Things Done, I was the one who filed for divorce. By a strange concatenation of events, I filed yesterday, on the fourtheenth anniversary of when our relationship began. As if that were not ironic enough, I filed divorce papers approximately five yards from the counter where almost exactly eight years ago I filed the paperwork for our legal marriage ceremony, which took place eight years ago two days from now.

It felt surreal.

I don't quite know how else to explain it. I wasn't quite depressed. I wasn't joyful, either. I was mostly shaky, because now the wheels are set in motion. I watched the clerk stamp the papers and saw that already, just like that, we have been assigned dates for the two major hearings we must attend before the decree can be handed down in six months. I could see the great machinery of government grinding its gears, catching us up in its deceptively ponderous motion. The potential energy of our divorce turned kinetic in a matter of fifteen minutes.

I walked out the door, shaky and a little stunned, and sent a text to about a dozen people. I just walked out of the court house. I have officially filed for divorce, I said, the words stark on the electronic screen. Within moments, the texts started rolling in. A few were congratulatory; most were concerned.

Are you ok?
How do you feel?
Wow. (((hugs)))

I went back to the house and collapsed on the bed after lugging all my stuff inside--it was another "toggle"* day. I talked to a few people on the phone. I tweeted and Facebooked about how weird I felt, and how I had no idea what to make for dinner because I had no money and no energy and no desire to cook. I shored myself up, gradually feeling my head straighten out and my mood lighten.

Then I went and picked up my two little boys, who were very happy to see me and amazingly well-behaved and so polite about asking if they could eat food from "Old MacDonald's" that I succumbed after two seconds and agreed. So we swung through the drive-through to pick up a ten-piece McNugget meal. The boys devoured the chicken and some of the fries; I ate the rest of the fries and drank the Coke. It was a proud mommying moment. It was a very real single-mommying moment. And we snuggled on the couch watching the Backyardigans, which stretched from one episode to two before we went upstairs to get the boys to bed.

I did no grading last night.

This morning the boys were so cooperative that we got out the door only fifty minutes after I woke up. When I arrived at work, my darling mentee S. walked into my room with a bag of mini biscuit pizza makings for the boys and another of fancy pasta makings and French bread for me. Supper is set for tonight. I have friends already working on plans to get together for GNOs in the next few weeks. The love is rolling in.

It still feels surreal. A part of me is grieving the loss of something that was and always will be an enormous part of my life. We will always be tied together by that time and by our children. Another part of me is simply impatient to Get Through It All and Get On With Things. The largest part of me is simply lying quiet, watching warily from a corner, unsure of this new and uncertain future that looms in front of me.

Yeah. November sucks.

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*TOGGLE

Meaning:

Any instruction that works first one way and then the other; it turns something on the first time it is used and then turns it off the next time

Classified under:

Nouns denoting communicative processes and contents

Hypernyms ("toggle" is a kind of...):

command; instruction; program line; statement ((computer science) a line of code written as part of a computer program)

Use in this context: 

A day in which custody and residence switches between the two parents