Amanda Piccirilli-Hall

Being that I am always looking for guest bloggers, I asked my beautiful sister a few months back to write a blog post for me on any topic. When we were in Vegas this weekend she told me how it was almost done (little did I remember I even asked her to write one. haha sorry, Miss.) I admire my sister for her strength and courage to even write this post and sharing it with everyone who reads this. These last 10 months have been hard on all of us, but the fire and fight in my sister in unbeliveable -- I hope I become half the woman/mother/individual you are. I love you.



 When my sister asked me to write a post for her blog, I found it comical.  Why me? She knows me well

enough to know I am anything but interesting.  My hobbies typically include wrangling 3 small children and packing bags for school and day care each night, followed by philosphical conversations about which breakfast cereals are the most delicious by morning.

But as I sit here on my return flight from Vegas, I'm feeling inspired and hoping to finally be somewhat interesting.  This long weekend adventure with my sister and cousin to Sin City was a very much needed escape from my life.  And I know they both had doubts that I was capable of being fun anymore.  I was there celebrating my newly found freedom and new chapter in my life, while trying to move on from my past.

It's been almost a year since my husband left my kids and I behind for another woman.  We are trying to figure out our new normal and are almost there.  I actually wish I had the resiliency my children seem to have.  They seemed to have grieved the loss of our every day life and embraced their new relationship with their dad overnight.  All 3 have their moments - they miss him, want him to come back, forget he isn't coming home.  But shortly after airing their grievances, they are back to Spongebob, Legos, or whatever fixation they may be obsessing over that week.

Despite their ages, my 3 and 6 year olds are very cognizant of the world that is our new normal, and they have as many unanswered questions as I do.  Trying to keep them informed while keeping the entire situation as vague as possible is hard, especially as they begin to put the pieces together.  Most of the questions they asked are answered with a simple "I don't know."  And there have been a lot of unanswered questions thus far. "If daddy doesn't love you, then who does he love?"  "Why did daddy move so far away from our house?"  "When will daddy realize he made a mistake and come home?"  I know that someday they will put the pieces together on their own.  So for now I leave the questions unanswered, and I focus on making them realize that all we can do is keep moving and treating others as we wish to be treated.

My recovery has been long and is probably far from over, but I find myself hoping each day that tomorrow
will be the day I finally let go.  Let go of the feelings of anger, hatred, disappointment, self-loathing.  Having your spouse leave you for someone else somehow alters your entire perception of life and reality.  The feeling I had the moment I caught him cheating can only be described as a kick to the head.  When you finally come to, all that you thought you knew was wrong.  The person you trusted with your life isn't the person you thought they were at all.  You're suddenly a stranger in your own house and own relationship, and your mind spins with irrational blame.  Am I too overbearing? Should I have dressed up more often?  What is wrong with me? Am I too fat, too ugly, too boring?

I spun myself into a black hole of depression.  I didn't eat.  I didn't laugh.  I felt hopeless.  I felt like a failure.  I apologized to my parents for letting my marriage fall apart and wasting their money on a beautiful wedding.  I felt like I should send a letter thanking my wedding guests for the money and blenders and china place settings and letting them know they had wasted their money.  I mourned the end of my marriage like a death, although in retrospect, him being run down by a bus seems almost easier.  I cried about the plans we made for me to be a stay-at-home mom.  Plans for family vacations we hoped to go on.  Retirement someplace sunny once the kids were out of college.  My life as I knew it was gone.

Then, a few weeks later, my aunt, Rosanna, came by to visit with me and the kids.  She had gone through the exact same thing a decade before and gave me the pep talk/"come to Jesus" discussion I so desperately needed.  Instead of mourning the end of my marriage, she made me realize this was my official "do over."  I was being granted a second chance at life and I get to call the shots.  This has stuck with me every day for the past 9 months and is my mantra.

That conversation triggered a switch in my brain.  It was like someone blew the dust off the wiring, and my old self came to life.  I was actually scared of my old self at first.  "She" got lost in the "we" of our marriage, suppressed by a need to be everyone else's everything.  The highly organized, Martha Stewart wannabe, supermom, who never forgot to pack school snack or library books, who always had laundry done and french toast sticks in the freezer, and who is at the ready in the event of a first aid emergency or school art project deadline.  The worrywart, high strung, Italian housewife, who kept tabs on her husband's work meetings, doctor appointments, dry cleaning, and corporate card bills.  The loyal daughter, who hates disappointing her parents or asking for favors.

My old self was still many of those things, but with more of a take no prisoners, fuck you attitude, that is neither lady-like or forgiving.  When the old me surfaced, I knew exactly what I needed to do and wouldn't rest until I gained control of my life again.  The day after I threw my husband of 9 years out of my house, I proceeded to box up every item he owned - every chotchkie, mixed tape from high school, ugly cowboy shirt he wore to be hip and downplay his bald spot, EVERYTHING - along with every hideous gift and family heirloom his parents gave us.  I didn't care where he took it - it just couldn't stay in my house.  I then got on CareerBuilder and LinkedIn, called and e-mailed every former colleague I knew, and was able (thank god) to find a great job in less than a month.  I drafted and executed the most brazen divorce agreement of all time.  And within 5 months, I was exactly where I needed to be.  I established my own stable home for my kids.  My career was back in place.  And my "fuck you, I'm awesome" attitude is about 90% recharged.

I can confidently say I am in the rebuilding stage of this whole process.  It's taken a lot of guidance and reflection to figure out what that really is.  When you have been with someone for a long time, I think your default reflex at first is to want to find someone else - a replacement of sorts for the person you thought you were meant to be with.  I, far too prematurely, tried to sign up for a dating website.  Aside from being terrified by my "perfect matches" (which is an entirely separate blog post in itself), I realized this is so far from the next step for me.  I couldn't even answer simple profile questions.  What are my hobbies?  Changing diapers and combating 3 year old temper tantrums is certainly a red flag for most guys, so I would have to lie.  Pretend I like jogging or dancing or some other thing that makes me sound fun.  What is the last book I read?  Honestly, it was Where's Waldo.  Last adult book was probably The Da Vinci Code when it was actively on the New York Times best seller list in 2005.

So after a year of first crisis management then reflection, I am in the process of rebuilding me.  I am going to go back to the goals the old me lost along the way.  I love art. I love drawing and painting, going to art museums, taking photos.  I am going to find that passion again and get back to it.  I already have a few ideas sketched, which is an incredible thing, since it's been years since I've even thought about it.  I love to travel.  I want to see the world, and I want my kids to see there is a whole world around them to explore.  And I want to rebuild my career.  I love what I do, and I want to be as successful as I can be.  I always think back to my favorite Barbie as a little girl.  She was the Career Barbie.  She had a great job and a killer wardrobe - what's not to love?

So what the hell is the point of this blog post/rant?  I'm not 100% sure, honestly, other than guess I just want to let others that are in the same boat know they're not alone and not to give up.  You will be OK.  Although all may seem lost at first, just take every hurdle one day at a time.  Some days that may be something as simple as getting out of bed or paying bills.  I remember getting out of bed in the morning (or sitting up wide awake at 2am) and searching for blogs, articles, etc. on the internet about what to do when your spouse leaves, how to combat depression, and life after divorce.  I just needed to know that I wasn't alone.  And I found great strength from those posts, actually.

When I'm ready to meet the right person, I will be confident that I am being myself and I'm living the life I was meant to live.  I'm hoping to find that person, but am not fearful of going on these adventures in life alone.  I'm like a great piece of cake.  With or without icing, I'm still really awesome.  If the right icing comes along, that would be great, but I am still fabulous on my own.

2 humorous blog posts that may have saved my life...

http://happyhausfrau.blogspot.com/2010/06/what-to-do-when-your-husband-leaves-you.html?m=1

http://happyhausfrau.blogspot.com/2011/03/what-to-do-when-your-husband-leaves-you.html?m=1