I am getting a divorce. It is not my choice, but it is the reality, and I will live with it.

Since learning a little over two weeks ago that this would be my path, I have been overwhelmed with gratitude for the friends and family who have stepped in to walk with me. For a therapist and doctor who are compassionate, wise, and available. For a boss who responded to this crisis with grace and understanding. For Kleenex with lotion baked in and ondansetron. For a gym where I can lift and push heavy objects when my heart is breaking, and for a yoga instructor who understands that sometimes I just need to lay on the mat while tears fall out of my eyes. For the tools at my disposal after decades of dealing with depression and anxiety.

I am grieving. I am devastated, angry, and afraid in alternating measures. I experience moments of acceptance and the faintest glimmers of possibility.

My son is a young adult. That I am unable to protect him from this pain is gutting. I can only hope that the experience affords him opportunities to explore and express his own feelings and add to his emotional coping skills.

There is no linear process, no predictability to how I will feel in any given moment, and as a person who likes plans and order, this is a particularly cruel side effect. A kind look or offer of a hug may turn me into a sobbing mess, or may simply bring me warmth. I am trying to feel the feelings as they come, to release them, and to be tender with myself.

I know this wound will eventually heal. For now, when I feel overwhelmed by grief, anger, fear, or all three, I will lean into compassion, curiosity, honesty, humor, justice, and responsibility and allow those values to guide me on this new and uncertain journey.