A notary came to the house to witness us singing the divorce papers Saturday.

I’d like to say it was easy, but it wasn’t. Not because I was unsure it was the right thing to do—it absolutely was—but because after nearly 17 years, the pain had fused to me.

Like a wetsuit of lead, there were places I had to use a scalpel to surgically remove the hurt from me. And it wasn’t always clear what was hurt and what was me. After so much time, the pain felt like it was part of me. Like I was cutting away part of myself. Sometimes the unfamiliar can feel scary, even if it will most certainly be better.

When it was done and he’d started his long drive back to Nevada, I tried to think of the horrible things he said and did that pissed me off to give myself some energy. But I was too tired for any of that. I just let the gloom settle over me and leaned into it.

For so many reasons this divorce was not like the last one. But today I forgive him and I forgive myself and I’m moving on. I don’t feel animosity. I don’t want to feel burdened anymore. I’m simply getting up from the table.

Rudy once asked me if I ever spoke to Amanda Crowell Itliong before she passed. I hadn’t, so I looked her up and read an article where she was quoted as having said something like, divorce happens to people with cancer too. Sometimes people aren’t emotionally equipped to handle it all. That jumped out at me. I felt that was the case with Dan, and probably me too, if I’m brutally honest with myself about it.

I don’t know what the future holds, but I think it will be brighter now. I have been so anxious and so depressed for too long. I’m grateful to make it out in time.