Or any sort of disaster, really. There’s always ALWAYS a bright side. It might be remote, it might be something that you aren’t seeing, but it is rare that there isn’t a chance to see something positive when something terrible happens. In my case – weird as it may sound – it’s the impending separation and eventual divorce.
Now, I know there are people out there who are all “You should never get divorced after a traumatic experience like this!”. And in general? I would agree with them. But here’s the thing – this has been YEARS in the making. But going through the last year has actually been the thing I needed to gain the courage (or maybe just be fed up enough) to make the move.
I don’t intend to get into the so-called “salacious details” of all the problems. I will probably touch on them here and there, but while I’m leaving him – we still have kids together, and over 24 years as a couple. Dignity seems to be a four-letter word these days, what with “reality” tv all the rage. But – he’s the father of my kids. And he’s not a bad person, just not a good husband. So.
Having said *that* – here’s a little outline of why I suddenly realize I’m CAPABLE of going through with this. When covid hit? I had a job I enjoyed, working part-time at a local bookstore. His income paid for pretty much everything else. We did OK, able to pay for our daughter’s gymnastics, pay the bills, and so on. His job is a good one, and typically pretty crazy-proof. When covid hit, I got furloughed. So, I worked my other small business, and he kept working. Then he got furloughed too. We knew it was coming – warning in September, pretty serious in October. I got a full-time job starting first of October, and as of November 1, he wasn’t working.
The job I got, I will absolutely admit that I never even knew IT EXISTED. This was *not* my “dream job”. But it sounded interesting, it was in the healthcare field (which I have absolutely no background in), and I was qualified. Doesn’t hurt that it came recommended by a good friend. But then, working my first full-time job in more years than I care to admit? I found I *liked* it. I like it, and I’m damn *good* at it. I like getting those paychecks. I like doing my job. I like having that sense of independence. It’s been far too many years since I felt that way.
And here’s that silver lining: I found that, finally, I could envision in truth what my gut had been yelling at me about for years. That I could make the leap, and be ok. That maybe – just maybe – my future didn’t have to be the same as my past.
And so? Here we are. My blessing in a time when it seems strange to even say that such a thing exists. My hope, my happiness, and my future – so much of it was brought out by a plague. And while I don’t say this to discount the sadness and pain far too many others experienced, I do feel that acknowledging the positive things is what will help us move forward. This? It isn’t necessarily *happy*, but it IS positive. And I’ll take it.
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