the breakup box.
He said I’d just be ready one day, but I didn’t believe him.
My counselor, I mean.
I nodded and went through all the motions of agreement, but I could hardly imagine it. I guess because I’d never been there before. It’s like trying to describe the color purple when you’re blind; when you’ve never seen color anyway. You could talk about a mixture of red and blue, how it mingles and fades into something else entirely, but that has no relevance because you’ve never seen that either. You might as well be the President talking about a mixture of peace and healthcare reform; they are just words, and once said too much without the actual idea it represents, they lose their power. And then peace and healthcare reform become like red and blue; they mingle and fade into something else entirely. Though I’m not sure it’s purple.
There’s this song we sing in church, I Can Only Imagine. It’s a beautiful song that frames the afterlife in lyrics and the key of D. Well, it’s in D when I sing it, anyway. And I have this vague notion that the time after death will be good, that I will finally and once and for all be hidden from enemies that hate me for no other reason than God loves me. And yes, the fact that what I do, whether I ever say another kind word again, has absolutely no bearing on either of those–the love of a God and the hatred of another–is stunning.
But the afterlife.
I am going to be honest now and say that the very notion of it scares me. I’m not saying I know it won’t be good; I am simply saying that I don’t know it at all, and I have a long history of fearing the unknown.
But just because you cannot imagine something does not mean that a). it will not come to pass or b). it will not be okay. Because it’s true, my counselor was right. I was driving in the car, on my way to the gym, and all of the sudden I just knew I was ready to move on with my life.
And I stepped into the unimaginable like it was an old pair of sneakers. Or at least pretended to. And I looked around for someone to pronounce the Time of Death, but nobody was there; so instead I texted my brother Jason that it was time. I even used the d word.
And no, not that d word.
I am talking about divorce, but now that you mention it, the other d word could have been appropriate too.
But how?
How do you go from both saying I do to one saying I didn’t to me now saying I don’t?
Beats the heck out of me.
But this is my journey and I pinch myself often, but not in the pinch me, I’m dreaming sort of way; more like pinch me, this absurdity just can’t be real.
Not when it involves a link to a site that my friend sent me, after we talked about how I was thinking about selling my rings:
I’m not even joking. They send you a box, a breakup box, and once you fill it with your unwanted jewelry, you mail it back to them and then wait for a check to arrive once they’ve sold it for you. If you think you could get more than what they got for it, you have the option of returning the check in exchange for the jewelry.
Nice. Low risk. I’m not in the riskiest mood right now. You don’t generally see a lot of survivors playing Russian Roulet; you just don’t.
My breakup box arrived just this afternoon. And I cannot believe how ridiculous the name of that thing is; cannot help but like to say it, because WTF. The F stands for freak, in this case. As in I sometimes freak out when I take a long hard look at the landscape of my life.
Or maybe, just maybe the F doesn’t stand for freak.
But if you ever wondered what a breakup box looks like, now you know.
And I know, I was kind of let down by how normal it looked too. I mean, really, not even a broken heart? Or even a cartoon black widow spider, happily munching away on her mate?
But then I opened it.
And saw this.
And couldn’t help but laugh.
At least it wasn’t Girls Rule! Boys Drool!, I guess.
But again, WTF.
How in the world is this my life?
in Funny Stuff, photography, Thoughts and Feelings
as beautiful song, box, cannot, color purple, D. Well, God, healthcare reform, I, Jason, kind word, nice, something, time, time of death, vague notion, word
Still remember that moment when I got that text. It was a pretty big relief for me, because I’d hated more than just about anything seeing you treated the way you’ve been treated, and strung along, and hurt further, and betrayed anew daily, even hourly, and reaching a place of peace only to have it toppled over by your connection to the source of all this pain. Still makes my heart race and my blood boil to think about those moments when I knew that the words you were sometimes hearing and the actions being done in secret were not matching up at all, and only served to confuse you further.
Those are days I don’t think any of us wish to revisit.
And while “better off” is really hard to say, because there are so many possibilities and variables – choices that didn’t have to be made but were and turned people into one thing instead of another – I will say that definitely, considering the deck of cards you’d discovered you’d been dealt, you are better off without them.
And Jase, remember how you were like freaking out in response–texting me What happened?!?!?!? as if I’d have some new revelation? But the old revelation was enough, and I was just like–nothing new, really. I’m just ready.
Maybe the inside of that box shouldn’t have made me laugh out loud. But it did. I’m glad for you (if those are even the right words, and they probably aren’t) that you are ready to move on…and I’m hoping for many good things for you in the days and years ahead.
Nope, Nina–we all laughed at it. I picked up the lid and showed my parents and sister and we all had a good laugh. Sometimes you’ve got to laugh, right?
Didn’t make me laugh. Just more sadness. I feel like every time I comment I just say that I’m sorry that you’ve had to go through this but, well, it fits.
oh, and your URL is wrong. It’s actually http://www.outofyourlife.com/.
oh thanks–I wrote it last night when I was really tired and so yeah, that’s what happened. A completely wrong URL. Thanks for the correction!!!
Peaj, I was confused by your last comment at first because I thought… no, it’s http://www.thislifeinwriting.com, not outofyourlife.com…
But now I got it.
And yes, it’s all very sad. But sometimes life is so ridiculous that the only way you can deal is throwing your arms up and laughing.
I have to say that the envelope was a little disappointing to me as well. They make it look like it’s actually a box. I know it’s more practical for it to be an envelope but still. Maybe they should call it the “breakup envelope”…a little more honest, not quite as catchy though : )
well, actually it IS a box, believe it or not. But the pic does make it look just like an envelope–you can come over and see for yourself that it’s a box, though. I’m always looking for an excuse to have you over, even if it’s just to make sure things that look like envelopes are actually boxes
I thought it was the wicker thing below the “envelope.” They need to hire a designer to work on the top of that box! Such wasted potential.
book the gig, jase!!! You’d pimp it out, I’m sure!!!
I just saw something on TV about that a couple days ago. I think it’s a great idea. When my stepfather died my mom had her rings remade…I think she added a couple rings from her mom when she died, too. A jeweler made them into a beautiful necklace. I know it’s a completely different situation, but I thought it was a great idea, too. Like taking a hard situation and making beauty out of it.
yeah, I love that idea…and if I wanted the the jewelry around as reminders, I’d something like that too…But I really do just want it out of my life now. Like the link.
Completely understandable. It’s great that you can do that. It’s sad that it’s necessary, but what a great idea that person had…a really practical way to help people move on.
i felt that same sense of weirdness and absurdity when i was on jewelry row selling my ring. i tried to make it an event–got dressed up, took a girlfriend with me for moral support, and then treated us to a big lunch, martinis and all. independence day. so sad, so painful, so crazy, but all for a reason, which i’m sure you know.
btw, we obviously failed at lunch last week. call me if you’re in philly and we’ll try again.
Kelley!!! I love that you got dressed up and painted the town red. Love your spirit. Indomitable. And yes, we failed miserably at lunch last week–UGH. I will text you!!! xoxo
OK, first day on the blog, so commenting on older posts. I’ll try to keep up.
Jess, I laughed out loud when I scrolled down to that pic of the inside. That was perfect, and I believe it’s true.
In case you didn’t know, I was married before Trish, so if you ever want some perspective on the long game, let me know. There is blessing, peace, joy and happiness on the other side. Somethimes the crossing really, really sucks though, but I encourage you to just keep going.
Jim, I didn’t know you’d been married before…I was gonna say I’m sorry about all that, but then well, if you hadn’t gotten divorced, there wouldn’t be you and Trish NOW and all those beautiful kids of yours…So, yeah–I can see from your life that there IS blessing and peace and all that good stuff on the other side. Thanks for letting me know:)
But I am sorry for the pain you went through.
That’s pretty awesome, because I never knew this either. Just think, Jessica, someday you’ll have a beautiful family and a beautiful life and there will be people who know you pretty well and don’t even know that you were ever married before. Jim, it was cool of you to post this.
Don’t be sorry about the pain. We all have our own scars. The important thing is that wounds heal. And some of us have been in this fight before, and while I don’t know what or how you feel, I do know what the fight is like, so from one veteran to another: keep it locked and loaded because we all have your back.
Jim, that’s really nice. Thanks for writing it.
I agree with Jase. Jim, thanks so much for sharing your story and giving me hope:)