My first and second husband: part I

Not many people know this but my husband and I have been married off and on since 1980. 

When we do tell our story we often hear, "That's so cool, what a great story." while all I can think of is how hard it was and how it's not a cool story at all.

Joe and I met in 1977 at his Halloween fraternity fundraiser, he dressed as Frankenstein in his platform shoes making him 7 feet tall, when he grabbed me and said, "Whatcha doin' after the show?"

After the show I went on one date with him before summer happened. When we returned in the fall of 1978 we saw each other the first day back, went on the hill above our homes and talked for hours. When we came down I knew without a doubt I would marry this man someday, whether he knew it or not. I was going to be the bride of Frankenstein.

In 1980 at the ripe old age of 21 we got married. We each had some school left, but we knew what we wanted and we began to plan our future. We talked about kids (4 was our magic number and the names all began with J's). We planned that I would teach school all year and be home with our imaginary kids during the summertime. We had it all figured out.

We settled in to finish our degrees and had to establish rules with his frat brothers who would show up at inopportune times for newlyweds, so we had a signal; if the outdoor light was on you could knock, if it was off, leave us alone. 

We lovingly called these the salad years, when in reality we couldn't even afford salad and they should've been called the Top Ramen years. We both had retail jobs, lived in a one bedroom, one bath house, were full time students and we had so much FUN.

After graduating we moved to Boise for "real jobs" which happened for him, but not really for me. I couldn't get a teaching job and worked for an insurance agent who got rich because I became his personal assistant who went through hundreds of files and filled his calendar for $4.25 per hour. Joe worked for a retail store located in many states and became what they lovingly called, "The Wonder Boy."

After two years of unsatisfactory work for me and no teaching job in sight we decided a family might be in order. We'd been married for three years and it was the natural next step and I couldn't imagine, and still can't, a higher calling in life, so we got pregnant.

Alex was the best thing to happen to us. We understood and appreciated our parents in a whole new way. We reveled in him and marveled at what we'd done. We couldn't have been more in love with him and our own love deepened. Parenthood was the bomb. We thought we had this thing called family down.

Then it started. we had a bouncing baby boy and we moved 5 times in the next 2 years.

Each move took me further and further away from career and family and each move "Wonder Boy" had a familiar home in his workplace and I had to start new. He drifted off to work each day where he was the hero while I was isolated in new homes, trying to make new friends, and feeling resentful that he was never around. We were young. We didn't see alternatives, so...we divorced after almost six years of marriage. 

The grief I feel when I say we divorced is still crushing. It means we failed. It was the death of our dreams together. It was the death of my dreams as a young wife and mother. There was nothing cool about it whatsoever. I was suddenly alone, scared and unemployed with no job prospects in sight. I moved near family in Idaho. 

Whenever I said "I'm divorced" I felt like I was actually saying, "I failed". I felt like a walking failure and was frantic to make my world right again.

The panic I felt is still with me at times. I couldn't read a book, watch TV or engage in small talk very much. I was driven to make things better and frivolous things took too much energy because I needed to restore my world and that of my son.

That first year was one of the most brutal years of my life that could only be trumped with the year following my dads sudden death when I was 16. Not cool at all.

If you've ever been divorced you know what I mean. It's an ever increasing club we belong to but each person has their own experience nonetheless. I think it's the grief of the dream you had when you first married or committed to that person that is the hardest to overcome.

This does not mean you should be afraid to commit. Did you hear how much fun I had? Did you hear that I had a son? Can you feel that I'm horribly sad and the only reason I am is because of all the love I experienced as a result of this commitment?

That first year I was divorced I was determined not to look back. It was over, and I moved on with a determination that propelled us forward into owning my first home, running my first childcare center and owning my first car. I had to make things better and by God I would. I grieved, I worked hard and I changed. 

Alex and Joe on a visit in Nevada Alex and I, year one

One thing I would praise about my husband ex or not, is that he was, and still is, a great dad. I had no doubt that he loved his son more than anyone else ever could (besides me of course) so after a year apart he moved to Boise to be near his little man and there  begins our story...again.