What Doesn't Kill You, May Almost Kill You

Once when leaving a job after two very difficult years, I was asked to say a few parting words. What immediately came to mind was the phrase "What Doesn't Kill You Makes You Stronger." While I restrained myself on that occasion for obvious reasons, I have contemplated that phrase many times in my life. Do setbacks and loss really make you stronger or do they wound you in ways in which you never quite recover?

I am in the final stages of my divorce. We have successfully agreed on terms which we both think are fair and papers just are left to be filed. There is one catch - even in the days of no fault divorce one of us must still be the plaintiff and one of us the defendant. As a final indignity, the plaintiff must serve the defendant with the divorce papers. This involves as you can imagine, a visit from a process server. Yesterday I learned that I will be the defendant.

Those out of the stream of emotion of this event remind me what does it really matter. To me, if you are the defendant, the assumption is that your bad behavior brought you to this juncture. To me, who has felt in the last four years I have cried enough to fill Lake Erie, this was a final insult and a terrible blow.
Like all marriages mine was not perfect. Over the last three years as I have worked through this process I have examined over and over what happened. John Grey says that at a time of breakup women blame themselves and men blame the women. Wow, just another thing we women take on our shoulders. I spent  a lot of time blaming myself - was I not attentive enough, did I spend too much time taking care of the kids, was I too fat (this one, which still haunts me, took up way too much time). In the end, it began to dawn on me - none of that really mattered because for this family I had done the most important thing of all. I had shown up. For almost twenty years, I had put myself on the back burner for a husband I loved and a family I adored. I had my dreams and aspirations but to me their happiness came first. Love, a poet tells us, is an action. And I truly loved them all. The last thing I should do is defend myself.

This year I celebrate a special anniversary. I try not to talk about it too much because I think somehow it will jinx my luck. In June, it will be ten years since I finished initial treatment for breast cancer. Back when I was diagnosed Abby was just two years old. During a particular terrible round of chemotherapy, I remember thinking if there is a God, just let me live at least until this little girl is eighteen. On that front, life has been good. Next month, my two year old toddler will hit the ripe age of thirteen. Despite the typical mother daughter ups and downs we are close and if I am gone tomorrow she and Dan and Kate will remember me. When all is said and done all that is really left is that we loved others in our life enough that even after we are gone they can still feel that love and can pass it on.

At this point in life, I thought I would be coming down the backstretch enjoying some time in the sun. While I didn't expect to be the beautiful horse in the Winner's Circle, I didn't want to be in a place where I wondered if I was headed for the glue factory.  I am not dead yet, but the jury is still out if this whole experience has made me stronger. All I can tell you is that I am hanging in there. I am still showing up.