Sometimes, without realizing it, the choices that we make affect others in very permanent ways: a.k.a the ripple effect. And I am not talking about what flavor of ice cream you order, although there may be some merit to that idea if you take the last scoop of Rocky Road. I am talking about life-altering decisions: whether or not to go back to school, whether or not to get on that plane, whether or not to start or end a relationship. Those kind of decisions; the ones that end up being a big deal whether the intention was there or not.
I have recently been reaping the ripple effect in several different areas of my life, and mostly in a disconcerting way. I have been both the cause of the ripples, as well as getting hit by the ensuing waves from the stones others have been tossing into the proverbial pond. Some of the chaos has been expected, while other elements had not entered the realm of possibility for me. All I know is that it's getting pretty choppy out here and frankly I'm getting a little sea sick.
I now know from personal experience that divorce in particular has a far-reaching ripple effect. Add the number of years you have been married, multiply that by the number of children you have, then by the number of people who have befriended you, both as an individual and as a couple, and you’re starting to get a sense of the ripples here. No matter what the circumstances, it is still difficult to believe that two people, who seemed to love each other and would be that way indefinitely, are now parting ways.
And yet I find myself dealing with this ripple effect as someone going through this process, and also processing my parents divorcing at the same time. I don’t think there is ever a good age to experience the dissolution of your parents’ marriage, whether you are four, like my son, or closer to forty, as I am. It just doesn’t seem right. Even though I am cognitively able to process the mechanics of this sadness and confusion in a more sophisticated manner than my son, I often feel that I don’t have any better handle on it than he does. He asked me today if mommy and daddy could be married again, and although I would do almost anything for my kids, I cannot bring myself to do that because it wouldn’t even begin to put a Band-Aid on the gaping wound. Only time can do that.
Sometimes the hardest part though is not facing your immediate family, but dealing with your friends. Especially the ones you made after you were already married. They have always seen you as a couple, and they are left scratching their heads, wondering what went wrong. Not that it is their job to figure that out. Cause that is nowhere in the friendship handbook last time I checked. And it is not my job to ask people to take sides. Because that, in my mind, is more juvenile than anything I could think of.
I guess the only way that I can explain it is to use my grandfather as an example. He was outgoing and gregarious – always the life of the party. Quick with a smile and a joke. Everyone loved him. Except that he was only like that in public when everyone was watching, and he always put on one hell of a show. The person I knew at home was – let’s just say – not the same person you saw at the party – not by a long shot. But I would never even think of telling anyone any differently because they wouldn’t believe me. Their perception was already formed. And there is little I can do to change that.
Besides, I have to put my efforts into picking up the pieces and figuring out where to go from here. So as I throw my rings overboard (metaphorically speaking) on this heartbreaking cruise on an unfortunately choppy sea, I will leave you with a song that in many ways fits the moment at hand. Cause I’ve thought about it over and over again, but even Meatloaf himself can’t make me change my mind.
Theme song #30: I’d Do Anything for Love (But I Won’t Do That) by Meatloaf
http://youtu.be/0tuYKUgBZEc
I’m saving myself this time,
Selina
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