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Split: A Memoir of Divorce quotes about marriage
Although I notice there is never a truly good time to have a nice long chat with one´s mother-in-law, unless you are having an extraordinary life and marriage and your mother-in-law is, say, Maureen Dowd, or Indira Gandhi. Someone of that ilk.
— Suzanne Finnamore, Split: A Memoir of Divorce
I used to loathe ambivalence now I adore it. Ambivalence is my new best friend.
— Suzanne Finnamore, Split: A Memoir of Divorce
How could you do that to me?” I repeat. I don´t have to itemize. He knows what I speak of.Eventually N produces three answers, in this
— Suzanne Finnamore, Split: A Memoir of Divorce
Naturally, I do blame Françoise. I blame her for having N in the first place. She was young, she was beautiful, she was married to a doctor, and she was intelligent. She could have abstained from producing her first son. It was wrong on a variety of levels.
— Suzanne Finnamore, Split: A Memoir of Divorce
How do you know? How best to ensure his nervous breakdown?” I ask.”Keep going, ” Christian says. “Just go on as if nothing has happened. We all hate that.
— Suzanne Finnamore, Split: A Memoir of Divorce
Together we agree that there are few tableaus more pathetic than a woman poring over a plethora of self-help books, while in a small café across town her husband is sharing a bottle of Pouilly-Fuissé and fettucini Alfredo with a beautiful woman, fondling her fishnet knee and making careful plans to escape his life.
— Suzanne Finnamore, Split: A Memoir of Divorce
Take me now, God!” I shout to the inky sky. “I´m ready.””You´re not ready. You´re not even divorced yet, ” Bunny says. “You cannot die married to that man.
— Suzanne Finnamore, Split: A Memoir of Divorce
I´m just not sending out the right vibe lately. Perhaps the fact that I wear stained sweatpants and free T-shirts is holding me back. I just can´t seem to get back into the intelligent-slut-for-hire outfits that lure men even shoes with laces evade me. Plus my hair is Fran Lebowitz-esque. I think my eyes are getting closer together. I don´t know.
— Suzanne Finnamore, Split: A Memoir of Divorce
He announces that lately he keeps losing things. “Like your wife and child, ” I want to say, but don´t. At fourty, I´ve learned not to say everything clever, not to score every point.
— Suzanne Finnamore, Split: A Memoir of Divorce
This people know where their husbands are. I would like to vomit. I would like to vomit my soul out.
— Suzanne Finnamore, Split: A Memoir of Divorce
I am going insane. Yes. That is what´s happening. Good. Insane.
— Suzanne Finnamore, Split: A Memoir of Divorce
The whole world seems tilted, my inner ear displaced by a hole where my spouse used to be.
— Suzanne Finnamore, Split: A Memoir of Divorce
The real genesis is forbidden to me, vis-à-vis N´s inability to confess even the mildest transgressions.
— Suzanne Finnamore, Split: A Memoir of Divorce
I know my vision is impaired and cannot be trusted with even the simplest tasks, much less dating. Not that I´ve come within talon distance of a man.
— Suzanne Finnamore, Split: A Memoir of Divorce
Surprises, I feel now, are primarily a form of violence.
— Suzanne Finnamore, Split: A Memoir of Divorce
I saw my reflection in their eyes, but not the men themselves, not clearly. This preserved the idea that all intelligent and even vaguely attractive men were essentially good. Delusion detest focus and romance provides the veil.
— Suzanne Finnamore, Split: A Memoir of Divorce
My mind floats like ash. I blame myself most cruelly.
— Suzanne Finnamore, Split: A Memoir of Divorce
I have a new mantra, which I chant softly to myself: “Oh My God Oh My God.
— Suzanne Finnamore, Split: A Memoir of Divorce
Bushwhacked, I examine my hands. Same hands. Rings still there but no longer valid.
— Suzanne Finnamore, Split: A Memoir of Divorce
Conversely, I though humiliation would be everything, but it´s such a nothing.
— Suzanne Finnamore, Split: A Memoir of Divorce
The abandonment came, and now this shabby bacchanal.
— Suzanne Finnamore, Split: A Memoir of Divorce
People told me not to get married; I didn´t listen. No one ever listens, it seems to me now. Perhaps people should stop trying to communicate. N was not a communicator; early on, I´d insisted on communication. Now I see his point acutely. I would love to have him back to not communicate with me. I would never ask for communication again, I would simply go elsewhere for the deep fish. Also, I´m not at all sure I want to hear what he has to say in this new vista. This works out well.
— Suzanne Finnamore, Split: A Memoir of Divorce
In so many senseless deaths, beauty is to blame.
— Suzanne Finnamore, Split: A Memoir of Divorce
I want to own this transition, not to simply swallow the shame of it entire. I will push for every little irony.
— Suzanne Finnamore, Split: A Memoir of Divorce
I travel back in time, falling back into what I know for certain, the historical data I cling to in order to not go mad, not assume I made a suicidal and well-informed error in marrying this man.
— Suzanne Finnamore, Split: A Memoir of Divorce
Already things are changing; it´s starting with small shit but oh it´s starting, the change, the irrevocable, impossible change.
— Suzanne Finnamore, Split: A Memoir of Divorce
I am not ready to think of him as either insane or evil, to consider in full how I could love and have a child with such a person. I am not ready to think about anything, except ways in which this may still be averted.
— Suzanne Finnamore, Split: A Memoir of Divorce
They ought to do away with divorce settlements. Instead, both parties should flip a coin. The winner gets to stay where he or she is and keep everything. The loser goes to Paraguay. That´s it.
— Suzanne Finnamore, Split: A Memoir of Divorce
I´ve blown it, the whole grisly charade.
— Suzanne Finnamore, Split: A Memoir of Divorce
The Betty Lady explains love and splitting up: “It´s like playing the shell game with Jesus. You can´t figure anything out; it´s best not to try. You´ll just humiliate yourself.
— Suzanne Finnamore, Split: A Memoir of Divorce
This is much easier than when N left. Our son is unable to grasp and simultaneously turn doorknobs yet. If only this trick could be unlearned by men over thirty, many more families would celebrate Christmas together.
— Suzanne Finnamore, Split: A Memoir of Divorce
I feel incendiary, a wildfire. My spirit licks at the gates of a very elaborate, customized, and distracting emotional Hades.
— Suzanne Finnamore, Split: A Memoir of Divorce
I know one thing about men, ” Bunny says with finality, leaving the room to check on A. “They never die when you want them to.
— Suzanne Finnamore, Split: A Memoir of Divorce
The snag about marriage is, it isn´t worth the divorce.
— Suzanne Finnamore, Split: A Memoir of Divorce
I think: I would like to take N back to a story right now, like a rake. I would say, “Oh, this rake is uneven. Do you have any where the tines go straight across?” I would like to do a straight exchange. But there are things that cannot be returned. Errant husbands are one of them. Wives are not. Wives can be exchanged; I have always known this.
— Suzanne Finnamore, Split: A Memoir of Divorce
Someday I will have revenge. I know in advance to keep this to myself, and everyone will be happier. I do understand that I am expected to forgive N and his girlfriend in a timely fashion, and move on to a life of vegetarian cooking and difficult yoga positions and self-realization, and make this so much easier and more pleasant for all concerned.
— Suzanne Finnamore, Split: A Memoir of Divorce
This is much worse than losing a cat. You do not wish the cat dead, for example, after the first two days. You still love the cat and presumably the cat still loves you, or some variation of love that may in fact be dependence and even indifference.
— Suzanne Finnamore, Split: A Memoir of Divorce
This does not escape my notice, it is a context. I resent the fact of a context; my social status has shifted and no one is going to acknowldege it, that´s certain. I´m expected to be Brave and Rise Above. I dress for the role; I must look far better now that I did when I was married. I must look pulled together into a nice tight Hermès knot of self-containment. I don´t make the rules; I just do my best to follow them.
— Suzanne Finnamore, Split: A Memoir of Divorce
I love you as the mother of my child”: the kiss of death.Mother of His Child: demotion. I am beginning to see this truism: Mothers are not always wives. I have been stripped of a piece of self.
— Suzanne Finnamore, Split: A Memoir of Divorce
Any way I slice reality it comes out poorly, and I feel an urge to not exist, something I have never felt before; and now here it comes with conviction, almost panic. I mentally bless and exonerate anyone who has kicked a chair out from beneath her or swallowed opium in large chunks. My mind has met their environment, here in the void. I understand perfectly.
— Suzanne Finnamore, Split: A Memoir of Divorce
There is that, and there is also the Irreconcilable Differences line. It seems so catchall, so vague. You could say that about anyone, any man and woman at all. Jesus and Mary Magdalene: “Irreconcilable Differences.” JFK and Jackie, anyone at all. It´s built into the man-woman thing. What kind of paltry reason is that? “Insanity” is another box to be checked on the divorce petition, the only alternative to “Irreconcilable Differences.” I would like to check it.
— Suzanne Finnamore, Split: A Memoir of Divorce
For me, it´s sloth, ” I say. “Hedonistic sloth and escapism.
— Suzanne Finnamore, Split: A Memoir of Divorce
Such silence has an actual sound, the sound of disappearance.
— Suzanne Finnamore, Split: A Memoir of Divorce
To keep myself from harming or calling N and to stave off the rage and despair, I focus on my extraordinary son, drink midrange Chardonnay every night after he is asleep, and make a barrage of late-night mail-order retail purchases placed from the couch. The couch has officially become my second battle station. I am angry and I have credit And I´m all blackened inside; I should wear a pointy witch hat around Larkspur as I go to the bank and drop A off at day care. It would be more honest.
— Suzanne Finnamore, Split: A Memoir of Divorce
This is much worse than losing a cat. You do not wish the cat dead, for example, after the first two days. You still love the cat and presumably the cat still loves you, or some variation of love that may in fact be dependence and even indifference. People should be informed, as adopting a cat and becoming married take about the same amount of time and money and yet have such drastically different results. Indeed, except for the similar price($28)and the average time spent together, all similarity between pet adoption and marriage ends nastily.
— Suzanne Finnamore, Split: A Memoir of Divorce
I mentally bless and exonerate anyone who has kicked a chair out from beneath her or swallowed opium in large chunks. My mind has met their environment, here in the void. I understand perfectly.
— Suzanne Finnamore, Split: A Memoir of Divorce
They feel life is for the taking, and that everyone deserves happiness no matter what the cost. I must remember these tricks if I ever decide to have my soul surgically removed.
— Suzanne Finnamore, Split: A Memoir of Divorce
Irrationally, I think, Will You Marry Me? Four words. I Want a Divorce. Four words. I would like time to count the letters as well, but there is not time.
— Suzanne Finnamore, Split: A Memoir of Divorce
It had all seemed as inevitable as sunset. Instead it was the beauty of the sun glinting upon the scythe.
— Suzanne Finnamore, Split: A Memoir of Divorce
How can I grieve what is still in motion?” I ask her. “Shoes are still dropping all over the place. I´m not kidding, ” I say. “It´s Normandy out there.
— Suzanne Finnamore, Split: A Memoir of Divorce
Yes. THANK YOU. And say hello to Judas Iscariot.
— Suzanne Finnamore, Split: A Memoir of Divorce
I review what I know once again, confronting the monolith now alien and almost unconnected to me: my marriage.
— Suzanne Finnamore, Split: A Memoir of Divorce
God is great and God is good, ” Lisa says. “But where are the Apache attack helicopters when you need them?
— Suzanne Finnamore, Split: A Memoir of Divorce
I am replete with stamina in finding out every single fact I can about this whole affair.Yet, I think, do I want to pull that thread? Do I want to unleash the truth, unravel deceit, and kill reality as I´ve known it? It is irreparable, if I do, from the moment we met until now. It is long. If I discover too much that is false about what I thought my past was, Time will be skewed even further. I already have a poor connection with the present. Example: I have no sense of what day it is. It´s better.
— Suzanne Finnamore, Split: A Memoir of Divorce
Soon he was online every night until one or two a.m. Often he would wake up at three of four a.m. and go back online. He would shut down the computer screen when I walked in. In the past, he used to take the laptop to bed with him and we would both be on our laptops, hips touching. He stopped doing that, slipping off to his office instead and closing the door even when A was asleep. He started closing doors behind him. I was steeped in denial, but my body knew.
— Suzanne Finnamore, Split: A Memoir of Divorce
It´s like watching someone do a triple backflip dismount and land on two feet, solid, arms splayed in the air. I know I could never do it, don´t even know where I would begin to learn, but some people are built for it. He was handcrafted to leave, had practiced on other women since adolescence. I was one of an unnumbered series.
— Suzanne Finnamore, Split: A Memoir of Divorce
A heart can stop beating for a while, one can still live.
— Suzanne Finnamore, Split: A Memoir of Divorce
I was steeped in denial, but my body knew.
— Suzanne Finnamore, Split: A Memoir of Divorce
He left a bit too easily and with obvious relief. His feet were swift and sure on the muddy path.
— Suzanne Finnamore, Split: A Memoir of Divorce
I sensed he may have occasionally strayed in some of his past relationships. It was something I felt but ignored, a rent in the fabric of an otherwise splendid garment I thought I could mend. I thought I could live with it—I thought, yes and I admit it, that I would be different. That at the very least, middle age and children would slow him down; however, they seemed to accelerate his pace.
— Suzanne Finnamore, Split: A Memoir of Divorce
I played possum. I did this, as the possum does, out of fear.
— Suzanne Finnamore, Split: A Memoir of Divorce
So many events and moments that seemed insignificant add up. I remember how for the last Valentine´s Day, N gave flowers but no card. In restaurants, he looked off into the middle distance while my hand would creep across the table to hold his. He would always let go first. I realize I can´t remember his last spontaneous gesture of affection.
— Suzanne Finnamore, Split: A Memoir of Divorce
Delusion detests focus and romance provides the veil.
— Suzanne Finnamore, Split: A Memoir of Divorce
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