Divorce (and beyond) is hard to navigate. I’m five years into my new life and still coming up against experiences that make me uncomfortable and cause me to notice my Protective Patterns. This weekend, I was excited to celebrate my granddaughter M’s 6th birthday, and this annual event always brings me into a social setting with my ex-husband. Though neither of us are blood relatives of this sweet one and her parents, we are her Nana and Papa. We hosted their wedding on our land, and I’ve been part of her momma’s life since she was three years old.
The first year we celebrated her birthday together (I think it was her 3rd thanks to COVID), I parked, started to walk in, and almost ran away in tears because I didn’t know how to be only part of what WE used to be. I didn’t know how to talk to people or share any part of my story because I still didn’t fully understand what had actually happened. I did know that I was important to the family, so I managed to choke down my typical “avoid” Protective Pattern and show up for them.
It got easier the next year. I managed to say hello, introduce myself to my ex’s girlfriend, and chat with her a bit. She was lovely and I was happy for him. I enjoyed the party more. Last year, I didn’t see him at all. We stayed on different sides of the house somehow, and I hung out with Mimi, Grandma, and great-grandma Gigi—all the other grandmas—and had a good time.
This year, I decided to be me, not worry, and lean into the celebration. When I arrived, I received a big hug from M, hugged my bonus daughter and her husband, and said hello to my ex. I was met with a blank look and no eye contact. In that moment, I made a choice: I smiled and took my spot with the other grandmas. We enjoyed chatting and watching the kids play in the jumpy house, while the guys stood off to another side talking.
At one point, Gigi asked for a cup of coffee, which meant I had to approach the guys. I finally decided, “I’m choosing kindness!” I walked over and, with my biggest smile at each of them, asked M’s dad if he could make coffee for Gigi. I felt uncomfortable, and I didn’t let it get in my way. I didn’t avoid the interaction, and I’m stronger in my own shoes because of it. I fully understand that the discomfort that makes him avoid me is no longer mine to carry. I am courageous, and even a little courage is still courage—and it matters.
I’m so thankful for my work with Dovetail Learning. My healing would be nowhere near where it is now without this valuable work. Navigating change is hard. What parts of your life might benefit from some courageous kindness?
Warmly,
Emily and the Dovetail Team