The one where I drafted a vulnerable, 900-word personal narrative but can't think of a title.

Part I.

As we approach April (which has nothing to do with the timeline of my divorce), I am overflowing with feelings of gratitude – gratitude that my life didn’t turn out at all how I wanted it to, how I begged it to, how I fought tooth and nail for it to.

I have thought long and hard about if I wanted to post this blog publicly (my most vulnerable ones stay between myself and my therapist), and I decided that I did. I think it will play a vital role in closing this particular chapter of my life, which isn’t even a bad one; it’s one I enjoy deeply. The theme of the chapter is reflecting on my past and feeling unbelievably grateful that my life didn’t turn out how I thought it would. Eventually, I want to get to a point where I am not celebrating all that my life isn’t … but rather, all that is. I want to write a completely different post on April 13 that has nothing at all to do with the entanglement of my past.

So, here I go.

Part 2.

I have done my very best to keep the details of my divorce private, because that's just how I believe it should be. And also, it’s wildly important for me to “protect my peace” – this is something I work on diligently. Transparently, I am struggling to embrace the theme of this post while remaining objective in the narration of the hardest thing I have ever endured.

When I said my vows, I meant them. To the core of everything I am. So, when I was presented no other choice but divorce, I truly felt like I would have rather died. Put aside the deep-rooted feelings of embarrassment and failure … I was mourning a near-decade of my life that felt wasted while simultaneously grieving the loss of every single vision and dream I had for my future.

My past, gone. My present, unbearable. My future, gone. Needless to say, I felt hopeless. My day-to-day life consisted solely of surviving, and when even that felt too unmanageable, the survival of days turned into the survival of hours.

“Just make it to noon, Lauren. That’s it. Anyone can survive four hours.”

It seemed so unfair that it was all just ripped away from me. Emotionally, I felt like I was being stabbed over and over, and the sharpness of the pain would never, ever dull.

But as you can imagine, it did.

Part 3.

I met Brad on April 13, and the last year has been the messiest, most chaotic, beautiful experience of my entire life.

Without diving into too much detail, for most of my former relationship, it was effortless. From Day 1, it was the easiest thing I ever did. I pressed snooze on our wedding day because that’s how at peace I was. I had no nerves. It felt like we were designed to be together. And 24-year-old Lauren thought we were.

With Brad, from Day 1, it has been hard. Really freaking hard. When you meet in your thirties, instead of while in college in your early 20s, it’s a totally different experience. Tyler and I got to build a life together, while Brad and I are still figuring out how to combine two completely independent lives – not to mention, my life was still relatively in shambles when he met me. As were my brain and my heart. Yet, he still continued to fight for me, for months, until I was “ready” to be with him. To be loved by him. And I wasn’t protecting myself, I was protecting him. I told him repeatedly, “I don’t want to put a Brad band-aid on a Tyler wound.” While Brad was and continues to be a huge factor in my healing, I needed to assure myself I was “whole” on my own.

I could chalk up our relationship being difficult to us being older, in combination with my recent emotional baggage, but it’s not just that. I am an oversensitive, Type-A pain in the ass, and Brad is a loud, stubborn, larger-than life personality with little patience. This results in me snapping in the mornings, “IT IS TOO EARLY TO BE SINGING MUSICALS. Please don't sing until 10:00." (Kind of kidding, but not really).

I am losing track of my point.

While things can be tumultuous on the surface of our relationship at times, I feel this deep sense of … Safety. Stability. Softness. Lightness.

During my marriage, it was easy on the surface but hard in my soul. With Brad, it’s challenging on the surface but easy in my soul.

Part 4.

My life didn’t turn out how I hoped it would, and the grief of that loss is still very real and hits me at times, often when I am least expecting. It doesn’t just vanish overnight. But every single day, I feel an unabashed sense of contentment for how my life did turn out.

To anyone out there who is stuck in the trenches of loss or grief or hopelessness, I know you don’t believe me right now, but it will get better. In the end, everything will be okay. And if it’s not okay, it’s not the end. You just need time.

“Time, mystical time, cutting me open and then healing me fine.” – Taylor Swift