You are about to meet your new best friend.
“Dear Annie ~ I have a question. Who’s Cindy?”Confused
“Dear Confused ~ I’m Cindy.”Annie
When I realized I was getting a divorce, I was keenly aware of a few things. One, I was married to a very private man. Two, we had children. Three, we lived in a neighborhood where “news” travels easily and fast.
Bottom line: I couldn’t tell anybody.
When a stranger throws a lifeline
Obviously, the gag order didn’t count people like parents, siblings, and faraway friends. But for me, because none of these people even lived in my state, it pretty much excluded anyone local, not to mention everyone I knew who had been through a divorce.
One day, my son (then 13) told me that a boy in his grade had moved into the neighborhood. Dropping him off at their new house, I met the boy’s mother. Not only did she make just about the loveliest first impression possible, but she immediately shared that she was divorced. She “wanted me to know.”
I didn’t know it, but I had just met Cindy.
The end of Isolation
I knew this was a golden opportunity. Her previous home had been within the same school district, far enough away to be removed from my immediate circle and “news” network, but close enough to still be local. We didn’t really know the same people, but we shared the same points of reference. We didn’t have preconceived notions about each other, or about the other’s marriage or spouse. We were both invested in starting a friendship on the right foot, for our boys, which surely didn’t include spilling each other’s secrets. So, a mere three months later, I shared mine.
It was like opening the wardrobe to Narnia. A whole new world bloomed before me–complete with instant access to All The Things I Didn’t Know and All The Help I Didn’t Know I Needed.
…and a whole lot of words
“Do you have a therapist? You do have a therapist, right? And an accountant. You’re going to need your own accountant. And a mortgage broker, since you’re buying a house. A real estate agent, of course. Do you need a handyman or a contractor? How about cleaning help? A painter? Also, I know someone you should go into business with. But start with the therapist.”Tracy
Um.
At the rate I was going, I was lucky I had elastic-waist pants. Not only did I not have this ridiculous list of things she was talking about, I didn’t even know I needed it. It’s hard to find answers when you don’t know the questions.
The end of Confusion
Before I knew it, I had checklists. And names. And people to call, and things to do, and steps to take. With each step, I felt progress. I switched from passive to active, from sweatpants to jeans. Best of all, I gained confidence.
The change didn’t happen overnight, but I could feel it more and more with each new day. Passivity, confusion, depression, and helplessness were replaced by action, understanding, optimism, and self-confidence.
About six months into our friendship, I asked Tracy how she had done it. How did she stay sane through divorce without a Tracy to guide her?
Her answer came smoothly: “I had Cindy.”
And a light at the end of Overwhelm
I have since met this Cindy, the real Cindy (whose husband is a mortgage broker, by the way, and yes, he became mine). She’s pretty darn excellent in many more ways than her place in this little post. But part of me is glad she doesn’t know how many times I’ve laid a hand on someone’s shoulder and said, with the tone of imparting THE WORLD’S MOST IMPORTANT SECRET:
“Oh, honey. You need a Cindy.”
Right now, I’m your Cindy. But I suspect I can hand you off to one even better, one who lives closer to you and can literally hold your hand when you need it. That’s why I’m building this community.
