To the Judge and Jury

I have been separated over two years now. In that time there have been two changes of residence; one when the official separation began with my husband moving out of our “marital home” and the second change of residence came two months later when he moved back in and I moved out to the apartment I have called home ever since (well, not at first... at first I just called it 'the apartment' because it felt no more like home than any hotel I'd ever been in). I am now looking at moving again, this time totally by my own choice in my own time and on my own terms, but going through this process has brought up feelings from that move two years ago and the judgments that were laid against me then and, although in diminishing frequency, still now.

So, I would like to take this opportunity to address the members of the jury. Since my move on two years ago, I have endured and continue to endure countless occasions of judgment, questioning, interrogation, reprisal and admonition from members of the jury. And just to be clear, allow me to clarify who is included in this jury pool. The judges and jury of my peers consist of members of my community, older and younger, richer and poorer, kinder and crueler. It includes people I work with, play with, have met once or twice and those I know more deeply. I have found, if you have known me in even slightly more than a passing encounter you feel you have an intrinsic right and duty to comment on my life choice. I am bound to listen (my parents did an impeccable job of raising a daughter who smiles and nods politely), feign respect of your comments and strive to improve upon my condition by implementing your well-thought out advice.

So in response to the jury, and in neither chronological order nor level of insensitivity of the originating offender, this is my defense.

“How could you leave your children? I didn’t think mothers ever left their children.” I didn’t leave my children, I left my husband. My children remained comfortable in the home that they enjoyed their entire lives, the same home that I created for them with love and care and with every intention of living in for the rest of my days. Their routines were the same and the impact on their lives was reduced to a minimum. Because I could not live any longer with the man they call dad, gave me no excuse, reason or justification to rip them from his warmth. We live within blocks of each other and I am reminded frequently of that fact when the boys stop by to check my fridge out in comparison to the one at the house (usually to their sad disappointment). Although I appreciate your obvious wisdom and expertise, consider for a moment that I may know my children, and what they need to be happy and strong men, just a little better than you.

“Why oh why would you leave the house?” This one is pure in its simplicity. Because he needed its support, memories and embrace far more than I did. Because of the life I lead when I was young taught me early that I am strong enough to survive just about anything and that as long as I am healthy in mind and body, the rest is just geography.

“I hope you are sure this is what you want. Divorce is hell and it never, ever gets any better. I know.” Please take into account that this piece of wisdom was offered at a bar while the jury member enjoyed his third martini. Funny, his new partner was not there with him and I was intensely curious to find out if she shared his opinion (or was even aware of it). Regardless, I have to say I think this one depends solely on your outlook and there are enough clichés out there about that for you to insert your favourite one here.

“It’s too bad. I would never leave my wife and she’s sick. I am going through a lot for her now, but I would never leave her.” What on earth am I to say to that? Guilty as charged, Mr. Prosecutor. You are clearly a better person than I would ever hope to be and I cannot defend what is obviously a purely selfish and inexcusable action. My only hope is that by having two independent, happy, strong parents, my sons will be better off and learn that it’s not a sin to care enough about yourself to choose what is right for you.

For those members of the jury who envy my position, who comment on how lucky I am to have a new place to live, to start all over, to do as I please when I please... Although I appreciate your comments, please, please remember this; my new life has come at a cost that at times feels painfully high and at the worst of times makes me weep, feeling that I don’t have the strength to do what I know is right. Before you envy my position, and ponder your reality changed in the same way, let me buy you a drink and paint you a picture.

As for the silent stares, the whispers behind my back (literally; I can hear you, you know) and the knowing looks of understanding, pity and bewilderment, I have this to say. The best thing you can say or do for me is to offer a simple “How are you doing?” If I know and trust you well enough I will share my ever-changing feelings of fear, anxiety, self-doubt, excitement, peace, exhilaration, security and I would count you as a friend. The rest of you, kindly save your commentary for the latest sports event of note or international incident. I don’t care to listen or respond.

And anyway, cliché of all clichés, it’s none of your business!