Deciding to get a divorce is not easy. At all. I always believed that the person I ended up marrying would be the person I would spend the rest of my life with. As if fairy tales and Disney movies were an attainable reality. And in fact, they aren’t. I told my then husband I wanted a divorce in April, right after his daughter’s birthday. I remember it vividly. I was so nervous I had to write down my speech like I was writing a letter. Two pages of reasons and recollections. Needless to say, he didn’t take it very well.
But the truth of it was that we weren’t equal. I had hoped and prayed and wished that he would live up to the man I surely believed he could be. And then I learned what codependency is, what narcissistic behavior is, what a toxic relationship is, and what I had sacrificed to be his partner. I wouldn’t see all this until after my friend Amy died of cancer, my son was born, and then my dad died.
Before I “did the deed” so to speak, I took a trip to Montana. Initially, I was driving to Belgrade to deliver my friend Neil’s Triumph Tiger motorbike. We had been holding on to it while he took some time to figure out his next life steps. Once he was settled and in his lane, I strapped down the handles, packed up Stone, and set off. If you’re wondering why I went alone….it’s simply because I had to go alone. So many things had stacked against my husband that he couldn’t leave the state. So I went alone, though this was hardly my first time. I had gone to Montana for a creative’s retreat, arriving in Bozeman at 2am then spending an amazing week in the wild. I had driven 18+ hours alone to Missoula to pick up the same bike and bring it home. I secretly looked forward to the time by myself. Even if my son was with me, it was simpler. All I had to do was keep him fed and change his diapers. He didn’t demand from me a constant stream of attention and energy.
I was also still recovering from my father’s death. Even though it was 6 months in the past, I hadn’t really grieved. Some people believed it was because I had mentally prepared for his death, whatever that means. But in reality, I just never had the time. I had to still be a wife and a mom and fully manage a household. I look back and I realize that I never fully cried over his death, not like I thought I would. I never became that sobbing mess on the bathroom floor (it’s always the bathroom, I have no idea why). There was no space for grief in my world back then.
Stone and I broke up the 13 hour drive in two, stopping for the night in Coeur d’Alene, Idaho. We found a hotel in town, a quick drive to Lake Coeur d’Alene. We braved the chill and walked the gravel edge of the water. Memories of Amy flooded my mind – how she had wanted to take a summer trip to the lake with all our friends, her plans to throw me a baby shower when she learned I was pregnant, her rich Jersey accent, and the last lunch I had with her before she was diagnosed.
To know Amy was like knowing a favorite song, the one you always turn up a few notches in the car. It’s comforting and familiar. And you still sing every word loudly and confidently. She radiated life. She was loud. She was vivid. Everyone should have a friend like her at least once in their lives.
The drive into Montana was grey and cold with hills speckled in snow. Even though it was Spring in other parts of the country, winter still had a grip on Montana. We pulled into Belgrade and I called Neil to get his address. Stone met Mo for the first time and they played in the yard, dinosaurs and dump trucks. Mo was so patient and careful with Stone. Just two boys doing boy things in the mud. Sarahjess explained that this winter had been particularly difficult. Even thought Montana gets cold, the sun still shines. But this time the season had been dark and gloomy, not helpful to the spirits at all.
We talked while Neil went out to the truck to check on his bike and retrieve a revolver I didn’t know I had transported. Wasn’t too excited about that discovery. They gave me a quick tour of their home and explained the renovations and remodels they hoped to do.
The boys made dinner so Sarahjess and I could catch up and plan the next few days. I had been working hard on my own craft, crocheting and upcycling clothing to sell. I felt like I had finally found my passion and calling. This creative needed an outlet; but once I had found it, I felt less support from those close to me, mainly my then husband. We planned to do a photo shoot in the mountains and check out a few gallery spaces and shops in Bozeman and Livingston. Additionally, it was nice getting a break from cooking and a break from 24/7 parenting. Stone had made a friend and dinner was excellent.
The next morning, Stone was still sleeping while everyone woke up. Sarahjess made coffee and offered me a homemade muffin. This also gave me more time to talk about all these matters that were heavy on my heart. I knew for roughly a year that I wanted to split. I knew when I took that road trip with my mom, when he had called me yelling about how the dog got sick and shit in the kitchen, when I had to call him every time we stopped, when I felt guilty for going. I had even felt guilty going to Montana this time. I knew it when a seemingly insurmountable force blasted into our lives and I was trying to salvage what wasn’t mine to fix. I explained all of this. And more. More than I could type. Just know it felt hopeless to stick around. That is where I was at. I even asked my step-daughter how she would feel. She told me I would be happier.
Sarahjess was pretty shocked at everything. She felt she had been lied to. I was painted to look like a crazy person that was grieving in all the wrong ways. He had made me out to be a bad person cause I wasn’t fulfilling his life at every moment. I felt like I was just trying to survive and stay afloat.
After Stone woke, Sarahjess agreed to watch him so Neil and I could drive to a spot with enough of a hill to unload his bike without ramps. We found a spot by the railroad tracks. Strangely picturesque with its small town feel and the water tower proudly displaying “Belgrade”. We quickly unloaded. Neil was all smiles back on his familiar mode of transportation. Neil had ridden that bike all over the United States, from the west coast to New Orleans through the Midwest and the plains, camping along the way and picking up odd jobs. He fell in love with Montana and ultimately settled there.
Later that day we set off to complete part of our photo shoot. We went to a spot out of town with the Bridger mountains in the distance.
Sarahjess modelled a few sets of earrings I had made and a hand painted denim jacket in the cold. The wind picked up and blew the feathers and light chain across her face. This shit was perfect. I felt exactly in place, where I was supposed to be. Neil played with Stone in the snow as Stone grabbed sticks and rocks, exploring the wilderness before him.
Then Sarahjess took photos of me. I brought along a few crochet shawls to model. But more than anything I just wanted to nail this brand vision I had, to be wild and free, to have a few intimate items that represented that feeling.
As we made it back towards town, we stopped at a large mural of the American flag on a white building. Only made sense to try to recreate the vibe off Bruce Springsteen’s 1984 album “Born in the USA.” It was an album I remember from my childhood. My dad played it often. And I always loved hearing him sing along. And as I grew older I loved knowing the messages behind his songs. Sarahjess nailed it.
We spent the next day touring different cooperative studios and galleries that Sarahjess was knew of and participated with. I was inspired. All I wanted to do was make things: jewelry, clothing, bags. I wanted to make things people could love for generations. And make a living off my passions. I felt fueled and ready to work.
Stone and I left Belgrade after many hugs and well wishes. Most importantly, I left feeling confident. I knew my feelings were valid (something that you lose sight of when you’re taught to stop listening to yourself). And I knew what I had to do – even if it was difficult and heartbreaking and just plain HARD. I felt strong. I felt supported. And perhaps for the first time in a long time I felt loved. More than just loved by other people but loved by myself. It was small, just a glimmer. I felt like I deserved better out of my life. And more so, that Stone deserved better out of the life he was just beginning.
We took a detour on the way home to Palouse Falls, a 198 foot waterfall in southeastern Washington. It also happens to be the state waterfall. My typical route would have put me through Spokane, hugging I-90 all the way west. But I wanted a change. I wanted new scenery. I wanted to see something I had never seen. I felt new. I trusted my gut and my navigation skills. It took miles of gravel road through farmland to get to a small parking lot with few people. Stone and I walked the dirt path along a chain link fence. Most of the overlook had no fencing.
And that’s when I let go. In the thundering roar of the falls, I let go of all I thought was supposed to happen. I let go of my expectations and my fear of the future. And I let go of all the bull shit I was led to believe by the one person that was supposed to love me. It would take months and years to really get past programming and behaviors I had adopted to survive, to become my own person. But watching Stone take his own steps so confidently made me believe that if a one year old can do it, so can I.
