There doesn’t have to be anger, resentment or frustration to be done with something. To be over it. To want out. When I heard my divorce was final I felt a weight lifting. An end. A severance. A death.

I am not the woman I was four years ago. Not even close. My divorce pays tribute to that I feel. It is symbolic of having honoured my vows the best I could and having realized when no more could be done. A letting go. A surrender. A peacemaking.

My marriage was a loose end dangling from my collarbone until I signed that last affidavit. It connected me to a time and mindset I have long-since left behind, and while I know it’s just a paper- it’s not. Not to me. I lived for years holding space for someone else’s dreams- helping him become who he needed to be.

I did as I promised. And now I move on.

It wasn’t perfect, nothing is, but lord did I learn a lot. And I learn still. I am an expert on nothing and all that I speak about is something I am learning myself. I don’t have much emotion left for this divorce other than simply being glad it’s done. Maybe something will crop up.

I don’t know. And that’s ok.

I give myself permission to feel whatever may come. No one has lived my life but me. No one will ever see it the way I do. And whatever comes up to be healed, I promise I will. I will look at it all with Love. The symbol. The end. The moving on.




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