I Dreamed a Dream….

It’s funny how many songs out there are about love and loss.  I mean, seriously.  Turn on your radio and it’s every-damn-where.  Like this is what I want to listen to in the midst of a freaking separation and, eventual, divorce.

Thanks a lot music industry.

I really appreciate this – from the bottom of my heart.  It’s so nice to have my failure thrust in my face  (OK, mutual failure, but still).

Honestly, if I hear Lady Antebellum’s “Need You Now” one more freaking time, I’ll kill someone.  Seriously.

However, that being said, I have to say that I have become hooked on one song, Glee’s version of “I Dreamed a Dream.”  Now, of course, the context of the show is not anywhere near the context of what my life has become, but I can relate. I can especially relate to the last verse of the song:

I had a dream my life would be
So different from this hell I’m living
So different now from what it seemed
Now life has killed the dream I dreamed.

Divorce is about loss.  Not just loss of a significant other or the children or the house.  It’s the loss of dreams.  I’m two years shy of 40.  I was looking forward to him being retired, settling into one place – a house that we would buy and that we would live in and see our grandchildren in.  I was looking forward to finishing my Master’s Degree and teaching.  I was looking forward to the trip that we planned for next summer to my grandfather’s house and who we would see on the way.

We had plans.  We had dreams.

Now they are no more.

Now, I could either be totally upset about this or…..

I could look at it as a chance to create  new dreams and new goals.  Do I still want a house?  Sure.  But now I’m not locked into living wherever he feels he wants to retire to or be locked into only teaching stateside.  Maybe I can get a job teaching overseas. Or doing a teacher exchange program.  I can go see Russia (he hates to travel and has no desire to see the world) and Greece and Petra and Africa.  I can do all of these things.

When one thing dies, another comes to take its place.

Would I have liked to do these things with my husband?  Sure.  It’s just that now that face that I see when I picture my husband and I standing on the White Cliffs of Dover is fuzzy and filled with endless possibilities.  (Not that I’m gonna get married again, but you understand)

So maybe the old dreams are no more.  But there are so many more to take their place.

Being forgotten has its upsides.  They may not be evident at first, but they’re coming to me piece by piece.