I'd spent four and a half years in SLC; most of that time was not spent in happiness. My tale is quite common, I'd venture to say: Married too young, for the wrong reasons--to escape a controlling and in many ways demeaning (some would deem down right abusive) family/home life--and certainly, most importantly, I married the wrong man.
In the seven months of my separation, some people (various extended family members and a couple of my closest friends) have commented on how lucky I should consider myself, since my marriage failed while I am still, according to most standards, "quite young."
I have received lots of advice in the past seven months. While I fully appreciate the good intentions of these friendly sages, I must admit that after weeks of pondering their insightful comments, I am left feeling less-than-comforted by their words of wisdom.
After hearing my sad story, the first thing people usually say to me is something like, "Well, at least you got out of it before the drug use got really bad. And the drugs change a person so much. Don't take it personally. It's the drugs."
Yes, I am thankful that David kicked me out of our home before his drug abuse fully manifested itself. It would have been v. hard on me to have to witness his journey into the Wasteland firsthand. But, blaming his atrocious behavior on the drugs? Please. That's such a cop-out.
I am not arguing with the fact that drugs alter a person's personality…especially with the amount of hardcore drugs that David's doing. But I believe that drug use (and subsequent abuse) only heightens a person's true feelings. For instance, when I smoke marijuana on occasion, I get v. chatty and outgoing. I wish I could be that amiable while sober, but bad social anxiety hinders this.
For David, I think that his drug abuse says a lot about him. I think it says that he never got around to partying and rebelling when he was in college, so he feels it necessary to make up for it now by throwing himself into the downward spiral lifestyle he's now become accustom to.
When he threw me out in July, I think it was a long time in coming. I don't think his desire to abuse harsh drugs had anything to do with it. He was sick of living an adult life with me, and wanted to just have fun. So he told me to leave. And he did so when he was perfectly sober. Drugs didn't make him kick me out.
So how can I not take that personally? How can I not take it personally that the man I've lived with and loved since 1995 suddenly didn't want me to be a part of his life anymore? I just don't understand when people tell me to not take it personally. It's totally personal.
Yet another consolation offered to me by family and friends is that at least I got out of the Mormon lifestyle. Come on, folks. Don't blame a religion on my husband's abhorrent behavior. True, David did grow up in a somewhat odd household. But I refuse to put the blame on a certain religion or belief held by his parents; to do so is also a cop-out. David's decision to divorce me has nothing to do with the religion in which he was brought up.
I happen to agree whole-heartedly with one bit of encouragement I often hear: now that I'll be divorced, I can finally return to school and get a degree that means something. Amen is all I have to say to that. David did object to my schooling. I am not sure why. Some have said that he felt threatened--that if I got a real degree, I'd leave him for some better opportunity. Others quote the old saying, "Those without dreams themselves will hold you back from yours." Regardless of the reason, the fact remains that now that I am free, I do have the opportunity to finish college.
I think the thing that upsets me most when I receive guidance from others, is when they put David down b/c of his music. "It's a waste of time and money. Does he really have what it takes to be a star?"
My answer to that is never voiced, of course. To voice my true opinion on that subject suggests that I am still in love with David, which I am not. But, yes, I do think he has what it takes to be a star. He's an extremely talented musician. He has a love of music that supercedes anything else in this world. He is determined. If he only cleans up with the drug abuse, I truly think he could make it big.
It's not that I mind people saying he'll never make it in the music world. They can think what they want. What bothers me, however, is when other people (who don't really know David) put him down. Don't get me wrong--I love knowing that people care about me and feel bad for me. But, I just don't think it's fair of other people to criticize David for what he's done.
We are both equally to blame, David and I. Neither of us were happy, and we just couldn't make it work. We were not good for each other, and we certainly weren't being good to each other, either. I may rant and rave about something he used to do that pissed me off, but damn it, he's still my husband (for the next three months or so); he's mine to criticize.
It's kind of like if you're complaining about one of your parents to a friend. You're free to totally badmouth your parents, b/c hey--they're your parents. But if your friend says anything bad about them at all, you've got to put your foot down. You're free to bitch, b/c they are your parents. But it's rude and insulting if your friends start in on them.
After seven months of sagacious guidance, I am a bit fed up. I have a counselor to talk to me about my past mistakes, and future choices. While I appreciate the sentiments attached to all of this advice I get, I must plead with everyone now: please, just shut the hell up.
It's my life, and they're my choices--right or wrong, they're mine. If I want or need advice, I have people I can ask for help. I don't need to hear it from another friend, or a random friend-of-a-friend. Thanks, but no thanks. I've had my fill of your unsolicited advice.
FIN