Being Divorced, My Way

Five years and not a crazy cat lady

“If you don’t know where you are going, you’ll end up someplace else.”
Yogi Berra

On a hot August afternoon in St. Louis, I sat in the very cold, air-conditioned office of my divorce lawyer. Though we had several mutual friends, Rachel remained highly professional at all times. I’d trusted her to guide me through this gut-wrenching process and here we were — basically at the end of it.

“After you sign these places here,” she pointed to the document in front of her, “I submit it to the judge, he’ll sign and that’s it. It can take up to 30 days.”

“That’s it,” I repeated, taking the black pen in my hand. I signed.

I hugged her as I left the office. “Thank you so much,” I said. It’s a funny thing, divorce — to hug and thank your lawyer for. I realized I probably wouldn’t be coming back again.

I exited the revolving doors into the sunny, August day. Uncharacteristically dry weather for St. Louis gave the air a pre-autumn feeling. I breathed in deeply.

There are as many feelings about getting divorced as there are divorces and in those moments of life that are dramatic and rather boring at the same time, often the word that comes to mind is surreal. But that is not how this…