I climb into bed and my head finds the pillow. This evening ritual means nothing to this divorce induced insomniac.

My chocolate lab Hazel circles next to me and finally flops down. She rests so peacefully I can hear her snuggled snores.

I can’t get a song out of my head. It is an old song which I haven’t heard in many years which makes me wonder where along my day I picked it up.

I quietly sing the words “I’m the Happiest Girl In the Whole USA.”

Tears wet the pillow.

I think of my mother and how she always said, “Colleen has Joie de Vivre.”

I have traded in that trademark joy for emotional purgatory.

A place of transitional suffering.

Initially, I was up for the task at hand. I believed I would inhabit this place of pain for maybe a year. Then I would happily shift from purgatory into purging. I would expel and cleanse the remnants of my relationship.

And it seems I have for the most part. The problem is divorce is a team sport so both people need to be willing to transition out of the marital purgatory together. Well, at least in the signing of the papers part.

The other day I visited my attorney’s office. 

As we left his office, I turned and said, “I’m kinda like your penance, aren’t I?”

He laughed and said, “Sort of.” 

My poor attorney didn’t know what he was getting himself into when this Catholic girl showed up at his door.

Fortunately, my Joie de Vivre appears to be returning sans the occasional divorce hiccup and I am transitioning from purgatory into purging.

Good news for my attorney. After all, he’s had to atone long enough for this Catholic girl’s sins.

(Photos courtesy of Pexels)

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