When you get divorced, you’re forced to say a lot of goodbyes.
One day, I had a brother- and sister-in-law. And a beautiful little niece.
And then I didn’t.
One day, I had extended family I would spend Christmases and other holidays and special events with. Many of whom I had grown to love over more than a decade of knowing them.
And then I didn’t.
One day, I had friends. The hey-how-ya-doin’? kind, and the really-dig-beneath-the-surface kind. People you could count on to show up for birthday parties and stuff.
And then I didn’t.
…
One of the scariest things about life after divorce is that, unless you want to be lonely and celibate for the rest of your life, you have to start dating after your marriage ends.
When I first started Must Be This Tall To Ride, the entire point, I thought, was going to be about taking a self-deprecating look at the struggles of a thirtysomething single father trying to navigate the dating landscape.
I thought I’d be writing a sitcom.
The only problem was, not very much was funny.
My wife left. I never thought that was going to happen. Despite a whole bunch of evidence to the contrary, I believed she loved me because I wanted to believe it.
And we always believe what we want to believe.
I had nothing.
I was nothing.
Everything that mattered was rooted in the success of my marriage and family. I was a total failure.
I wasn’t attractive enough.
I wasn’t smart enough.
I wasn’t tall enough.
I wasn’t strong enough.
I wasn’t funny enough.
I wasn’t successful enough.
I wasn’t good enough.
Those things HAD to be true, I thought, because my wife loved our son more than anything, and she wanted rid of me so badly that she sacrificed half of his childhood in order to do so.
And now I’m supposed to go find a girl to like me?
This tired, broken, crying, failure who doesn’t even remember what it feels like to be himself?
Who would ever want that guy?
…
I was so scared to talk to girls. I was broken and everyone could tell.
I put so much stock into what people thought of me, that I was making everyone else’s feelings about me more important than my own.
It didn’t matter to me what I thought of me. It only mattered what others thought.
Anyone who knows anything about human psychology knows it’s really hard to be attractive when the only things you feel about yourself are ugly.
…
But then you heal just a little bit more. And cry just a little bit less, and then one day, not at all.
Time strips away power from those you had previously given it to. And now you have all this power and influence in your life that you can offer to anyone you want or just keep it for yourself. You get your heart back, also to be shared with whomever you choose.
As you acquire more of this power through the natural course of time, people begin to take notice.
This person likes you. And that person wants you. And this person believes in you. And that person thinks you’re amazing.
Everyone can’t be wrong. So you must be likable and desirable and inspire confidence.
And you start looking at yourself a little bit differently. You walk just a little bit taller. Ask yourself better questions about who that really is looking back at you in the mirror.
…
It’s subtle at first. Like a whisper in the wind.
But you rediscover feelings for yourself long-forgotten. Love. Respect. I matter.
When you improve 1% every day, you improve 3,800% over the course of a year.
And Then You Make the Rules Again
Not many good things happen as a result of divorce. But I’m back in charge of me again, and the days of sacrificing self-identity are absolutely over.
I’m not afraid of dating or women anymore because the natural result of honesty and vulnerability and authenticity is that it organically weeds out people you aren’t compatible with.
I used to think the goal was to try to get everyone to like me.
Now I know the goal is to just be myself—unapologetic and unafraid, because if you don’t like me, then I want to learn that information as quickly as possible and move on with my life.
If you aren’t enthusiastic about our relationship, then it probably doesn’t make sense for us to have one. Life’s too short to spend it with people who wish you were someone else.
So, I’m not going to.
And I’m not going to lose any sleep over a girl rejecting me for my height or my house or my son or my bank account, nor am I going to spend a lot of time fretting over why this person or that person doesn’t like me as much as I wish they did.
It was when I started investing in my own opinion of myself over the opinions of others, that everything finally felt different.
…
I don’t recommend divorce because it’s shitty, but it is good training for how to manage your relationships.
For a variety of reasons, I’ve had to say goodbye to people I didn’t want to say goodbye to. Nothing ugly or sinister. Just life happening. Because life just happens.
…
I don’t mean that it doesn’t hurt to lose things anymore.
It still does.
I don’t mean that I care less about other people now.
I care the same about people as I always did.
But I care MORE about what I think now. MORE about what I feel now. MORE about what I need.
It’s an elegant solution to filtering out your healthy and unhealthy relationships.
We wear masks and perform because we want people to like us.
But the day of reckoning will always come. When they see behind the mask. When they catch you too weak or too tired to perform.
And then maybe the relationship falls apart and you just lost more time. And time is the one thing you can never earn more of.
It sounds corny and rah-rah, but it’s true: We’re worth it. We are. Set your boundaries and enforce them because then everything changes.
I’m worth it.
You’re worth it.
Because we’re attractive enough. Maybe not for the assholes we’re not going to end up liking anyway. But we are for them. That person over there who is going to change everything one day.
We’re smart enough.
Tall enough.
Strong enough.
Funny enough.
Successful enough.
We’re good enough. And with all due respect; the people who don’t see that?
They’re not.
Wish I would’ve learned this 20 years ago. Way to go, buddy!
I’m getting better everyday, Mike. At most things.
It’s infinitely more fun than two years ago.
Divorce, is a butt kicker! But there are valuable life lessons in it! ?
Finding out who you really are, what’s important to you and then going after it and being yourself is a very valuable lesson.
I’m finding that authenticity is key to the new me post divorce
True, my former married self, was the hot mess I allowed myself to become, not the original person I was prior to the marriage or who I am today. Nine years ago, eww, that will not be occurring again, I will not allow anyone to inventory my worth.
We often meet our first serious girlfriends (and future wives) when we’re young and stupid and trying to impress everyone.
When you’re an older, you have the ability to just own it. Now we know that EVERYONE is a little bit scared and trying to hard and doesn’t really know what they’re doing.
That’s very liberating.
I’m guilty of being the kind of person who learns best the hard way.
I believe as a society we guilt, blame and shame, each other and ourselves . Instead look at life as this is what happen, we need to grieve grow from it and find happiness. Instead we do the what if game? ✋I am guilty of it too, as a member of the learns best hard way club, I try to be kinder to my self, we are only human!
Have a great day!
NIBSIH!
Hey Matt, there’s a lot of loses in the process. You’ll come out of it a better, wiser man.
Leslie
I think so, too, Leslie. Thank you.
That should be “losses”
Leslie
Hi Matt
I’ve been following your journey almost from the start as I was experiencing such a similar one. And I am SO happy for you that you have come out the other side. This is a great post and reminds me, that in my post divorce world, the best thing that I can do for myself is to be authentic and come what may.
Thank you for sharing, and good luck out there!
Steph x
Thank you for finally reaching out, Steph. It’s always so interesting to realize there’s been a person there all along, even though I didn’t know it.
Thank you for paying attention for so long.
I hope you feel, nearly two years later, as I do. Better. Healed. Hopeful.
I like now so much better than then. 🙂
Thank you. I so needed to read this today. I was feeling less than anything after feeling the sting of rejection yet again. But once I read this, I realize just how much I have grown since my marriage ended; how far I have come since those first days when all I wanted to do was hide under the covers and shut the world out.
Again, Thanks.
I don’t think rejection is ever pleasant. But I think we really need to keep the frame of mind that we were NEVER going to be happy with the kind of person who doesn’t enthusiastically want us in their lives.
There’s a lot of peace and freedom in that realization.
There are a bunch of people out there who want to be with us, but just haven’t met us yet.
I’ve grown to not be the least-bit interested in someone I might have to “sell.”
I don’t know exactly when your marriage ended, sir. But if you’re anything like me, life is infinitely better today than it was then.
You deserve to feel good about that. And you deserve to never-again be worried about whether someone is choosing you every day.
When it’s happening, you’ll know.
Thank you very much for leaving this note. I’m sorry you had a thing not work out. I do get it.
But I really hope you’ll choose to celebrate a big, long-term mistake not being made. That’s what all these moments are. Preventing crisis down the road.
Good luck!
No it’s not pleasant; but before when I would let it eat at me for days and moan and groan about how I’m not good enough, I can take the perspective that yes it happened, but no, it doesn’t define me. I can shake it off better now, much better than I could three years ago when the marriage broke up.
Thanks for the well wishes, and keep doing what you do.
Why can’t we learn this when we’re 16 and then just keep that program running in the back of our heads in perpetuity. Because we probably think we’re too damn smart to listen to some old guys/gals advice. Or that it doesn’t apply to us. But these sorts of truths, how I wish I’d always just known them.
Beautiful post.
Thank you, Jen. I had a really hard time, and probably still do, worrying about what others think of me.
But NOT in the context of my interpersonal relationships.
And certainly not in regards to dating.
Thank you so much for reading. Read your fine post about swimming earlier, but wasn’t able to comment just then. 🙂
Great post – first one I’ve read since following your blog. Couldn’t have started with a better one!
Thank you so much for the kind compliment. I appreciate you reading very much.
This is amazing. Your thought about dating (post-divorce or otherwise) and figuring out as soon as possible when you aren’t compatible with someone, and that people that don’t value you aren’t worth it (basically the entire second half of the post) are spot-on. Thank you.
This isn’t something I’ve known for very long.
I’m so glad I do now.
It’s taken a wh
“Those who matter don’t mind, and those who mind don’t matter.” Bernard Baruch
Bernie nailed it.
I’m not going to lose sleep over the fact that I am not pretty enough, thin enough or smart enough for the guys who have rejected me over the last few years.
But…I am not going to keep putting myself out there for rejection. I won’t change for someone else, but I am not going to keep being shot down either. Which I know sounds horrible, but self-preservation is the priority now.
I’m I the only one who sees a connection between this post and the last one…?