Hold the Music, Please

Photo credit: Forbes.com

I chuckle every time I hear someone say, “I’m sorry”, in response to hearing of one’s divorce. Divorce is not funny nor is it to be taken lightly. It’s the dissolution of a union, many times involving children who are innocent parties in the whole mess so no, I don’t take it lightly. Still, I have to chuckle when I hear someone say, “I’m sorry.” Why? Let me explain.

By the time my now ex-husband came to me on November 9, 2012, telling me that he wanted a divorce, everything that resembled human feeling had died in me. It had been slowly murdered over the years. By that time, he had raped me twice (don’t get me started on this — spousal rape is REAL), had offered me to another man for sex, had tortured me mentally and emotionally, and I had suffered an aneurysm due to the stress of it all. Any semblance of anger in response to his telling me that he wanted out that day was ONLY present because his request came the day of our son’s Senior Day, and his announcing that he wanted a divorce ruined that very special day for our child. The screaming and yelling I did that day was because he refused to participate in the family activities that had been planned with other families for nearly a year. After I calmed down, I asked for the papers so I could sign them and we could be done. Of course, he didn’t give them to me because back then, we were still operating on his time. He would end up holding them for another three months and casually mentioned that he had done so because he was trying to decide if he really wanted the divorce. That’s another story.

The things that I just told you should be reason enough to understand why I tell you that not every divorce is cause for sadness. Just like in my case, millions of people are released from hell once that gavel strikes the judge’s stand.

For me, it meant no more uncontrollable shaking when I heard his key in the door. It meant no more fear of saying the wrong thing that could possibly set him off. It meant no more wondering when his next cocaine binge would come. It meant that never again would I have to be afraid that he’d take one sip of beer which would inevitably lead to another bender that would last for weeks.

Hold the slow, tear-inducing songs. Keep the sad lyrics. In cases like mine, there is cause for celebration. There is reason to dance. Freedom. Escape. Life. Those are reasons to celebrate. If you’re going to cue the music, make it something I can dance to.

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Trease Shine Hinton

Written by

Domestic Violence Prevention Advocate| Owner, Scrivener Shine Edits | Blogger | Writer | Speaker | Alumna, Grambling State, Southern New Hampshire University

Coffee House Writers

We are a team of dedicated writers who want to share our work with the world.

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