I’ve Felt Stuck in the Wrong Chapter of My Life Since My Marriage Unraveled
I need to turn the page and give my story the chance to move forward
It’s alarming to realize you’ve been existing in the wrong chapter of the right novel. At the most mundane moment, you realize that the presumable protagonist in your life has been the antagonist in disguise all along.
Grief lingers against the roof of your mouth, mimicking the presence of coffee previously consumed, the taste still there but soured in much the same way genuine happiness can curdle into foul-tasting anguish. The careful reader who went to great lengths to apply the lessons learned in novels becomes painfully aware that the attention to detail wasn’t nearly enough.
Instead, the reader falls prey to the same deception that tricks the main character. The reader’s desire to believe in the constancy of love gives way to unimaginable grief.
I am the reader who experienced alarm at this uninvited arrival of grief. Somewhere between the first sip of morning coffee and the crispness of five o’clock wine, an entire life unraveled. I had found stability — except I hadn’t. I had found love — except I hadn’t. Tale as old as time, I suppose, but that didn’t make the knife to the heart hurt any less.
All the reading in the world didn’t prepare me for the grief that came with the death of my marriage.
Had he promised me forever? Had he coaxed me into trusting him enough to open up my heart and my life to him? The type of grief that swooped in with the loss of love became crippling. All the impulse book-buying in the world could not heal this gaping void.
In the amount of time it took to pen a novel, the layers of my marriage unraveled. Similar to the novel I wrote last year, my relationship with my husband proved incapable of progressing beyond the initial stages. Was it because I’d attempted to edit myself too much? Had I made the same flaw as the majority of leading protagonists: duped by a Wickham when I thought I’d finally found a Darcy?
Plot points are designed to twist at some point in the story. This novel that is the story of my life cannot possibly be the wrong book to dwell in because there can only be one me. Right now, the alarm feels interminable and the grief insurmountable. The grief and loss of love threaten to keep me rooted in the wrong chapter for good.
At the end of the day, though, I am many things, and this includes being a reader. I know I need to turn the page and give my story the chance to move forward.
Sometimes, the only way to comprehend grief is to trust that the story arc requires the grief and the pain in order to expand into the most beautiful modern-day fairytale of all. Reader, I’ll let you know when I get there.
Sydney Adin is a college Writing and Literature Professor in addition to being the Director of Admissions at Thales College. Originally from New Jersey, Sydney now resides in North Carolina with her Beagle, Finn. While she always knew she wanted to pursue a career that inspired others to adore literature as much as she did, Sydney has been a writer since the third grade. An avid reader, she routinely turns to books for encouragement and solace.
This essay is part of our Moms Don’t Have Time to Grieve column.
