Imagine waking up on the day of your mediation with your soon-to-be ex-husband. Oh wait, he’s still officially your husband until the paperwork is finalized. The terminology has become a minefield; you’ve settled on “ex” after a year and a half of separation. The date weighs heavily on you—just three days short of the 25th anniversary of your first kiss, a moment you both cherished far more than your wedding day. Ironically, it’s also three days before Hitler’s birthday. You used to make light of that coincidence, but now it feels like an eerie omen.
You stand naked in front of your closet, grappling with what to wear. You can get away with jeans at your job, but it feels wrong to don casual wear for a meeting about the end of your marriage in a sophisticated lawyer’s office. The chill from the shower lingers on your skin as you contemplate whether to grab your robe, a soft yellow cotton gift from your ex. The sight of it stings, reminiscent of unexpected grief—the kind that sneaks up on you, much like the memories of your father who left this world too soon. Stupid reminders, like that robe or the sight of moss, trigger waves of sadness. Perhaps it’s time to invest in a new robe.
You’re still standing there, frozen. It’s not just about picking an outfit for today; you’re also searching for armor against the emotional turmoil life has thrown your way. You glance at your reflection, and suddenly, self-critique overwhelms you. Who would ever love this body? The evidence of motherhood clings to you like a sunken soufflé, and the weight of your breasts feels burdensome, as if they’re guests who’ve overstayed their welcome. Yet they’re yours, slightly deflated but still there, and in some bras, they look decent enough. Sorry, breasts; you didn’t mean to insult you.
Turning to see your backside, you realize it’s not as bad as you once thought. Gravity has been kinder to it than other areas, bringing a surprising sense of acceptance amidst a landscape of self-doubt. Your mother’s voice echoes in your mind, calling you “skin and bones,” but you have always been angular. After a brief round phase in college, life shifted you back, and the stress of separation has left you nearly skeletal.
It was an intriguing experience to feel softness and roundness in college; it changed how people treated you. But you met your ex during the tail end of those years, feeling both approachable and desirable. Those moments are captured in photos from 1990, a time when everything seemed perfect. But as the years progressed, the love began to fade, unraveling with the challenges of parenthood.
You decide on a simple cream sleeveless top for the mediation, pairing it with a blue corduroy skirt and a soft white cashmere cardigan from your friend Mia. Comfort, softness, and a touch of love from a friend—it’s exactly what you need today. But there’s a hitch: the zipper on the back of the cream top. You struggle to zip it up, realizing how much you relied on your ex to help with these small frustrations.
Frustrated, you pause. There are plenty of other tops that would fit, but stubbornness wins. You remind yourself that embracing who you are is essential. You are strong and willful, and whoever comes next will need to accept that. Finally, with a deep breath, you manage to zip that stubborn zipper as Nina Simone’s soulful rendition of “You’d Be So Nice to Come Home To” plays softly in the background. It feels like a small victory, an affirmation of your strength.
As you head downtown for the mediation, you feel the weight of the past and the uncertainty of the future. The subway ride with your ex feels oddly reminiscent of a date, and you struggle with the urge to express everything you’ve bottled up. The mediator emphasizes the importance of a father in your children’s lives, which brings a wave of frustration. The atmosphere in the lawyer’s office is stifling, yet the lawyer’s wit helps ease the tension.
During the session, she suggests breathing exercises to help everyone focus, and you shed your cardigan, feeling the need for lightness. You hug your arms around yourself, reminding yourself that self-love is your new mantra. You realize you are both fragile and resilient, and this moment is about rebirth, not armor.
By the end of the mediation, you know you are moving forward, ready to embrace the next chapter of your life, unarmed and hopeful.
In Summary
The journey through divorce is filled with unexpected challenges—both emotional and practical. Choosing what to wear for your mediation becomes a metaphor for finding strength in vulnerability. As you navigate this complex process, remember to prioritize self-love and acceptance. Resources like Cryobaby’s at-home insemination kit and sites like UCSF’s fertility insurance FAQ can provide valuable support during your journey. For more insights, check out this article on home insemination options.