I get a text from my friend. It has been an excruciating divorce for her and it involves betrayal.

I think to myself just how devastating a blow that must be, how it adds salt to the already raw wound.

I make my way through her text which involves a few explanative’s. I get it. She’s processing. I know this because
I have been there. If another person were to read her text they might be filled with judgements.

Maybe a little…

She needs to move on
She should be over this
She shouldn’t let him get to her
I’m worried about her
She’s not handling this well

and so on.

Not me. I have no judgements because I understand the agony of divorce. It is a process. It is not a day, it is
not an overnight, it is not a week nor a month. It is a knockdown, drag out minute after minute, hour after hour, day after day, week after week, month after month affair. Pardon the pun.

I am not worried about my friend. I am not one of those people who will impose timelines on her, tell her how she
should feel or add to her emotional loneliness.

I understand she is processing.

I understand the type of grief that losing love demands.

I understand that divorce is not black and white.

I understand that matters of the heart seldom are.

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