I'm Becky Sherrick Harks, better known as Aunt Becky, and you'll normally find me blathering on my own blog, Mommy Wants Vodka. But I'm here at The Stir to secure Total World Domination, er, discuss how I'm (barely) surviving parenthood.
I never expected it to be so hard. I know that's what they always say when you're getting a divorce, but it's so true.
I've never spent so much time feeling like utter dog poo about myself, my life, my goals, and my aspirations. I didn't get married so I could get a divorce. It's not my style. And yet, here I am. On my own for the first time in my life.
And while it IS hard, I'm surviving. And guess what? You can too.
Here are some tips I've learned about getting through a divorce.
No, stop staring at me like that -- I swear, I have good reasons. I got pregnant and waddled from an apartment I shared with my ex back to the house I lived in with my parents so that I could go to nursing school and get a job that pays more than "do you want fries with that?"
Then, I met and married my husband shortly after graduation, when we bought a condo together. So in all those years, I was always living with someone.
But July, we decided to divorce after nearly 10 years of marriage and I moved into my own place. Which means that I'm in the process of learning how to live on my own. I couldn't be happier, but it's hard to get used to sometimes. Here's how I'm learning to live alone after my divorce.
We've all been through that kind of breakup or divorce.
Y'know, the one that leaves us weak in the knees, gasping for air, and wondering how it all went so wrong. The one that leaves our hearts breaking, wondering how we are going to get through the next five minutes, let alone next five years.
Yeah. That breakup. The one where you are beyond crushed because you are still very much in love with your soon-to-be ex -- and you don't want the relationship to end.
So if that's how you feel, is it wise to stay friends? How do you move on? How do you keep those romantic feelings at bay?
When I found out that my daughter, was, in fact, a daughter (I believe the tech said something about a "cheeseburger" when describing my fetus, but I'm not entirely positive about that), I began to cry. Tears of joy.
See, I'd always expected I'd be the mother of three sons, which I'd accepted as my lot in life. I love my sons like I love butter and I wouldn't trade them for anything in the world. Not even a yacht.
But to find out that I was going to be the mother of a daughter? Me? With a daughter? I was beyond thrilled. And terrified.