Peace & Love at the Post Office
After driving back from Cincinnati this morning (my fiance lives in Cincy, for those of you who don't know) I ran a number of errands, one of which (as the title of this charming little blog might suggest) was to stop by the Mt. Washington post office. I needed stamps for more wedding invitations and, while I was actually thinking about it, decided to actualize the impulse.
It was pretty slow in there, just me and the person ahead of me, so as I was finishing up my purchase of the tres romantic 59 cent James A. Michener two ounce stamps, Becky (someone I've known, distantly, since I moved here in 2003 or 2004) appeared at the other counter and said, "Could I ask you a question?" It was in a very low voice and I had a pretty good idea what it would be. My ex-wife Emily and I had come into the post office from time to time and had even had an open house back when we first started the alpaca farm (yes I really have an alpaca farm... more on that in a later blog) which she'd attended, and Becky had known us as a couple. She'd been around when Emily was diagnosed with thyroid cancer and I had been taking care of her, so Becky knew me as part of Me and Her. The most recent time I'd been in Amy was with me and we were very kissy and having a delightful time (best time I've ever had buying stamps) and I was obviously no longer in a Me and Her situation. I was right about the topic, but a little off about the direction.
In tones appropriate to what was about to come out of her mouth, Becky asked, "Now, you're, um... married... again?" I told her I was getting married again, to which she replied, "And is your former wife... ok? I mean, we hadn't seen you for so long, and the last time we saw you she was recovering from cancer and you all were dealing with that. I mean... is she...?" And finally I got it. Becky was trying to ask whether Emily had died and I was moving on. I explained that she was alive and healthy, to the best of my knowledge, and that she had recovered fully from her illness. I went on to tell her (and the small audience of postal workers who "knew" us as a married couple) that after her recovery I became catastrophically ill myself and while I had taken care of Emily when she was throwing up radioactivity (ok I didn't actually say that, but I'm adding it here for emphasis), she became emotionally and verbally abusive, accusing me of not caring about her and not paying enough attention to her. I said I realized that our entire relationship had been about my supporting her and receiving none in return, and how, for the first time, it wasn't ok. I told Becky, who was making understanding, and quietly scandalized noises, that I got us to go to counseling which made things so much worse, and that ultimately I said I was tired of the both of us making one another miserable and that we should divorce. I let her know that Emily was living in Chicago and was, as far as I knew, doing very well.
By this time other patrons had wandered in and we had to say goodbye. I told her I was "stupid happy" these days and in my first adult relationship, and she told me she was happy for me, and happy to learn what had happened. It was the first time someone other than a handful of my closest partners in crime has asked me about the unholy debacle that was my divorce in a way that made me feel both loved and not judged. She just wanted to know and was concerned something much worse had happened and was glad it hadn't. It was a genuinely sweet and kind experience.
It's easy for me to feel isolated: I don't make many connections with people. Ok, my Amy would point out that's not completely true, and I think today's experience would back that up. People care. People you might not expect actually notice when you're not around and worry about you. I was pleasantly surprised and it lifted my spirits considerably.
~B
After driving back from Cincinnati this morning (my fiance lives in Cincy, for those of you who don't know) I ran a number of errands, one of which (as the title of this charming little blog might suggest) was to stop by the Mt. Washington post office. I needed stamps for more wedding invitations and, while I was actually thinking about it, decided to actualize the impulse.
It was pretty slow in there, just me and the person ahead of me, so as I was finishing up my purchase of the tres romantic 59 cent James A. Michener two ounce stamps, Becky (someone I've known, distantly, since I moved here in 2003 or 2004) appeared at the other counter and said, "Could I ask you a question?" It was in a very low voice and I had a pretty good idea what it would be. My ex-wife Emily and I had come into the post office from time to time and had even had an open house back when we first started the alpaca farm (yes I really have an alpaca farm... more on that in a later blog) which she'd attended, and Becky had known us as a couple. She'd been around when Emily was diagnosed with thyroid cancer and I had been taking care of her, so Becky knew me as part of Me and Her. The most recent time I'd been in Amy was with me and we were very kissy and having a delightful time (best time I've ever had buying stamps) and I was obviously no longer in a Me and Her situation. I was right about the topic, but a little off about the direction.
In tones appropriate to what was about to come out of her mouth, Becky asked, "Now, you're, um... married... again?" I told her I was getting married again, to which she replied, "And is your former wife... ok? I mean, we hadn't seen you for so long, and the last time we saw you she was recovering from cancer and you all were dealing with that. I mean... is she...?" And finally I got it. Becky was trying to ask whether Emily had died and I was moving on. I explained that she was alive and healthy, to the best of my knowledge, and that she had recovered fully from her illness. I went on to tell her (and the small audience of postal workers who "knew" us as a married couple) that after her recovery I became catastrophically ill myself and while I had taken care of Emily when she was throwing up radioactivity (ok I didn't actually say that, but I'm adding it here for emphasis), she became emotionally and verbally abusive, accusing me of not caring about her and not paying enough attention to her. I said I realized that our entire relationship had been about my supporting her and receiving none in return, and how, for the first time, it wasn't ok. I told Becky, who was making understanding, and quietly scandalized noises, that I got us to go to counseling which made things so much worse, and that ultimately I said I was tired of the both of us making one another miserable and that we should divorce. I let her know that Emily was living in Chicago and was, as far as I knew, doing very well.
By this time other patrons had wandered in and we had to say goodbye. I told her I was "stupid happy" these days and in my first adult relationship, and she told me she was happy for me, and happy to learn what had happened. It was the first time someone other than a handful of my closest partners in crime has asked me about the unholy debacle that was my divorce in a way that made me feel both loved and not judged. She just wanted to know and was concerned something much worse had happened and was glad it hadn't. It was a genuinely sweet and kind experience.
It's easy for me to feel isolated: I don't make many connections with people. Ok, my Amy would point out that's not completely true, and I think today's experience would back that up. People care. People you might not expect actually notice when you're not around and worry about you. I was pleasantly surprised and it lifted my spirits considerably.
~B