I’ve been in a sort of pickle these past few days. Not quite a dilemma—I suppose you could call it a quandary.
Yeah, that’s it—I’ve been in a quandary as to how to handle all this hubbub around the two essays I wrote for The Huffington Post regarding my divorce—and the quandary is this: There are two sides to every story.
He said—she said.
Suddenly my side, which after over thirty years decided to show up in my rear view mirror and then be published not once, but in two different essays, with an interview today on Huffington Post Live, is starting to make me a tad uncomfortable.
With all the distance, and water under the bridge; the fact that both my ex and me have gone on to find love again and lead perfectly lovely lives; and the fact that we are…friendly—has helped me approach the telling of the story of our divorce and the subsequent years afterward with a light touch.
With humor and gratitude, unicorns and love letters.
Now here’s the rub. I’m not so sure he sees things that way.
I haven’t actually had a conversation with him about our divorce in over twenty years, and I have no intention of re-opening that subject with him now, that is not an easy topic for us and last we spoke I can guarantee you—there were no unicorns or love letters mentioned.
You see, back in 1984 I left the marriage and he was not happy about it.
He swears he never saw it coming which always makes me shake my head in disbelief (I’m doing it right now), so I’m sure his story would read more like this: Blindsided great guy (he really was) gets the heave-ho from totally ditzy, hopelessly romantic and seriously deluded first wife.
True or not, that is probably his take on a difficult and painful situation from his past—and the problem is —no one will ever hear about it.
Since my side(s) of the story have gotten more traction, I’ve been dialing down the social media blitz that comes with having your articles reach outside of your comfortable circle of friends and family. Strangers are reading it and weighing in and THAT feels weird somehow.
I know my ex peruses my personal Facebook page so I’ve left both articles off of it, hoping for the best.
That’s the thing. One person talking about their experience as half of a partnership, a union, a collaboration—or a relationship—is missing a very important element—the other side of the story.
Liz Gilbert wrote about her difficult and emotionally wrenching divorce in Eat,Pray,Love,and the world sympathized—which eventually compelled her ex-husband to write a book about HIS experience inside of the same situation.
The Oscar-nominated screenwriter of When Harry Met Sally and Sleepless in Seattle, wrote Heartburn in 1983. The book was inspired by the events of her break-up with her second husband, the Watergate journalist Carl Bernstein, whom she discovered was having an affair with British politician Margaret Jay while Ephron was pregnant with their son Max. While it may seem as if he wouldn’t have had a leg to stand on in the court of public opinion, Bernstein did threaten legal action for how he was portrayed.
All I know you guys, is that I‘m not so sure I’d like to read about what any of my ex’s thought about our relationship on Facebook or in The Huffington Post.
Even if they were kind about it, (which I made sure to be), I’m certain I’d disagree with all, most, some of what they had to say.
It’s too late. The genie is out of the bottle.
I have a blog where I talk about all aspects of my life—from my perspective—no holds barred—hoping to share the common thread that runs between all of us, and I can’t start being worried about what someone will think about it now.
I get to have “my view of the facts” as a friend said to me today, but remember—true or not—completely accurate or not—everything you ever read is just one person’s View of the Facts.
I often forget that, falling under the assumption that it’s the whole story.
What do you guys think?
Carry on,
xox
