Part One: Living Three Lives

It's my birthday month. I've been thinking a lot about the last year or two and wanted to write about few of the things I've learned, and since I'm stubborn, some of those lessons were a little bumpy. Any way, this is the first of three blogs. After that, I'll probably take a break and write something a little lighter. I'm hoping to put them out on Friday nights, but no promises there.

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I knew when I watched my friends and family get married that the odds were good that I'd know at least one of them would get divorced. Honestly, I could fall into that camp too because I don't think anything is a 'sure thing,' including my own marriage. (We're fine, btw. Please don't read that as some sort of impending announcement.)

Did I like everyone my friends and family married? No. Some were definitely head scratchers, and even if I didn't agree with their pick, I'm not an asshole hoping they wouldn't work out. I just crossed my fingers and hoped they were right and I was wrong, because who wishes something so sad on a friend just for the satisfaction of being right? I will happily eat crow. Please hand me the knife and fork, because the alternative sucks. But even outwardly meant to be, soulmate seeming couples have gone on to implode, even when everyone thought the odds were in their favor.

But the little statistic about 40-50% of marriages end in divorce (depending on the source) lurked in my head for a long time.

One of my friends had gotten married around the same time I did. I remember attending the reception, a few years passing and us having babies only a few months a part, boating out on the lake with our spouses, and attending their lovely home for dinner parties and girls nights. And when my family moved to Texas, we stayed in touch.

A little over a year ago, I remember sitting on a dirty plastic lawn bench next to a horse riding arena. My son sneezed three times in a row, sighed heavily, and scowled at me expectantly with snot dangling from his nose. I fished out another tissue and handed it to him. This was a common occurrence. I'm still optimistic that if I can get him in a saddle he might hate the barn less, even if he still has all the mild allergies. Maybe. It might be a big 'maybe.'

It was sweltering, but it felt worth it to watch Hannah ride a cute little horse named Butters as her instructor tried to teach her to sit up tall and apply more leg. I'd probably just told Quincy that the lesson was far from over when my phone buzzed, and I looked down to see my friend's name flash on the screen with a picture of her with long blonde hair, bright blue eyes, and a perfect smile.

My friend is one of those big, loud personality types. In college, she was constantly getting asked out and had some of the best dating stories I've ever heard. Part of it was because, as a mutual of ours once put it, "she could flirt with a lamp post." But really she was good with everyone. When she walked into a room, people noticed because she pulled everyone in with her high-energy, talkative, fun-loving self. Extraverted, confident, feisty, and likable. That was her in a nutshell. She reminds me of Kuzco from "The Emperor's New Groove" when he kicks in the double doors and starts dancing. She doesn't go to parties--she is the party. And she always sounded bright and cheerful.

She was probably calling to tell me about the house updates. She and her husband were building their dream home. They'd owned this property next to a lake for several years now and they'd started the build in the last year or so. They were about a month or two from finally moving in. It was a large, gorgeous, custom built home. She probably wanted to tell me about the counters or something she wanted fixed before they moved in. Saying she was excited about it was an understatement. She'd even sent a Christmas card with them in front of the unfinished fireplace in December. She couldn't wait to raise their daughter there.

I swiped my phone and answered. She asked me what I was up to, but her voice shook in that way when you try to keep from crying. She asked if I had a minute to talk. My stomach immediately sank as I told her I had time and asked what was wrong. And then she told me she was getting a divorce, and the whys and what had happened--the entire thing. I stepped away from the fence and listened as she laid out a story I certainly wasn't expecting. I won't share it because it's not mine to tell, but holy shit. Some things you just can't make up. If the roles were reversed, I'd have left too.

In the following months, I learned a lot more. I found out about the financial abuse, and the controlling behavior that slowly over the years dimmed her light and cranked her stress levels up. I'd known and talked to her for years, and I hadn't known any of that. I thought everything was good and she had married someone who valued her for who she was, not for how she would make them look to others.

I feel like I learned a lot from watching and trying my best to support my friend go through her divorce and figuring out her life after it. I hated the powerlessness of watching her try to figure it all out, with the best I could do was offer suggestions and feedback when she asked.

I'd seen a clip on a TikTok about how everyone has three lives, and I've been thinking a lot about that. It's not a new of a concept, but it's felt very applicable lately. There's the public life which is presented to the world and is the most visible, the private life only family and maybe friends see, and then the secret life which only the individual knows and might not even speak about. Some people might behave very differently in each of the three, and I think it's normal if there is varying degrees of overlap. But problems can arise if they come in conflict with each other. How big or small those spheres are depends on the individual. It's because of those three lives that I feel like I will never really know anyone completely, except myself.

Looking at my own life, I feel like I've often been very open. I don't hide a lot. I don't care to, because either you'll like me or you won't. Of course I want people to like me, that's normal, but I'm not very good at fitting in to the molds some people have expected of me. There are enough people in this world that if someone doesn't care for who I am, I can always go out and find someone who does. So my three spheres are fairly small, and that's not necessarily a good thing.

Over the years I've learned there's a difference between oversharing and being honest, and that there is something to be said about holding back a little more so I don't share too fast or too much with the wrong people. I'd read recently that others have to earn the right to fully know your stories by showing they are trustworthy enough to hear them. People sharing shameful moments or sensitive parts of themselves is a gift, and allowing them to do so without judgement is the least I can try to do for them.

This past year has helped me see the value of what just listening and being there for someone can have not just for them, but for myself as well. I often perceived my friend's life as picturesque, even though it clearly was not. But I've been able to help her, and in doing so it's helped me love her better too. We're all flawed, and that is sometimes what makes people the most interesting, at least to me.

Even when friends have wronged me in some way, I've learned there might not be justification for it, but there is always an explanation, and sometimes that's enough to let go of the hurt or at the very least understand them better and have some empathy.

I feel like I knew that you don't know everything about everyone, but lately I think I understand it a lot better now. I've since talked with others, only for them to open up and share something difficult and heartbreaking. We really don't know what people are dealing with privately and it makes me pause more when I look at others. They might smile in pictures and look perfect and share how great everything is going, but that's only their public life they are showing and I don't know what's not going well privately or secretly. And from my own experience, there's always something that's not quite right. Whether it be big or small, short term or chronic, I don't think it's possible to not be dealing with something shitty.

I have low self-esteem, and that will always be something I'm fighting on some level or another. It's gotten better over the years, but it's not what I'd call 'great' self-image. My baseline isn't going to change, but I can build off of it. I know when I workout and take care of myself, my physical and mental health improves, which only makes the gym a necessity for me more than anything. The confidence I get from strength training crosses over to not just effecting me externally, but internally as well when I take the lessons I learn there and find they can be carried over to other parts of my life. Likewise, having people who see my positive traits despite my flaws, allows myself to see them too, and those are relationships worth cultivating further.

But as my birthday approaches and I look at what this past year, and in some cases longer, have brought, I've taken away several lessons. Learning more compassion and grace for others has been one of them, but I plan on writing more about the other two as well. But overall, I wish I'd reserved judgement a little longer than I have in the past, and that's been a valuable lesson I am actually glad I learned because I think if I can carry that mindset forward, I'll be a better friend and hopefully person in general.