Getting married was such a clusterfuck of chaos. The planning. The preparation. The invitations. The actual process and the reception. Just a huge mess of figuring stuff out that would eventually lead to one of the largest nerve wrecking experiences ever felt in one of the biggest groups of people you'd be placed in front of, next to your funeral. It's true and you know I'm right. If you think about all those people who attended your wedding; assuming you're married of course, well...then you should know those are the same people who will feel obligated to show up for your funeral. The only difference is...none of them have to feel they need to make that awkward apology to you if they fail to show up. So in that effect, realistically speaking....only half or maybe less, will actually appear on that day you make that final showing before you're carted off to take up space under the earth. Or burnt to ash destined to sit inside a tin someone feels compelled to keep. I wonder who'll end up with a tin full of Joe Tuesday? Huh? I feel like my thought train is rolling off track. My point is this. That whole big mass of confusion and turmoil that you experience before that big moment you say - I do, to the one you love. Is completely the opposite of ending that marriage. An epic 180 spin and suddenly you're struck with the simplicity of ending something that was started with such chaos. Good chaos, but still chaos nonetheless.
Yeah, I know. Big shocking revelation there. I suppose if I were a wealthier man or if me and my wife ex-wife were more spiteful and vindictive, we probably would have drawn it out longer. But that wasn't the case. She simply fell out of love with me when I wasn't paying attention and as much as that pains me to think and as annoyed, angry and all around generally hurt that makes me feel...I just wanted to get the process over. No need to drag the whole thing out and make it completely grueling and unbearable. There wasn't a point in that. So I rushed through the paper work and signed where I had to sign and that was it. Five years of marriage ended in a few strokes of a pen. Five years of spending my life with a single person and all that commitment and memories attached, and it was over in less time than it took to file my taxes.
Which was sad and yeah, it was depressing, but really it also left this blatant and obvious question towering over me. A question you aren't prepared for and yet if you're ever placed in this situation, you can't help but ask yourself it. Something that even if you grew up in a broken home; which I thankfully never did, but still I assume even if you had, it really doesn't give you that answer to fill in the black, when you...yourself, are hit with this question. That question that may take a while to hit you, or like me...it'll hit you as soon as you take that first step outside your lawyer's office after signing a sea of divorce papers. The question of course being...
Now what?
Yeah that's right. Now what? As in...now what the fuck am I going to do? What happens beyond this point? What do I do now that a huge chunk of what I became used to and accepted as a major part of my everyday life, isn't a factor anymore? You get so wrapped up in the security and safety of a certain way of living and existing...that a drastic change like a divorce can shake your mental faculties to their very core. I mean that was part of my world. I had gotten married right out of high school and before you roll your eyes and think how stupid and cliche it was...you know what, I really don't give a shit. Roll your eyes all you want. It was stupid. I was an idiot for believing I could have found the person I was supposed to spend the rest of my life with, in high school...and then promptly marry her after we graduated. I should have thought it through better. It's not like we were forced into it. But yet there I foolishly was, assuming I found the one and tying the not. Then it was off to get a job, work a nine to fiver consistently and save up till I bought a house. Which was a lot quicker than I anticipated, since my wife's father was also a realtor. So for five years that's what I came home to. A simple life with a wife and I was happy with that. I was content. Then everything changed.
I suppose it all started with quitting my job. Which in turn lead to my short lived wrestling career. The day Joseph Mitchell, became Joe Tuesday. After that change, came my wife pleading for me to stop fighting, which then lead me to move to Alabama and then turned me into a farmer. Yep, from bank employee, to professional wrestler, to farmer. Well...farmer until Paul Heyman shuffled his fat ass up to my farm and politely reminded me I was still under contract with the XWF. That was what did it. The straw that broke the camel's back and what lead to my divorce. Sure, there were a lot of other deep rooted issues, but that revelation was what set them all off at once so to speak. What launched the concept of separation into motion. And now, I was a twenty three year old divorced professional wrestler questioning what the fuck I was going to do now that I had a large chunk of my life wiped away. Shouldn't I be a much older man coming to this juncture? Maybe with a herniated disk and a lot less hair? Why was I at this point at twenty three? Oh that's right...I was an idiot who got married right out of high school.
Yeah, I think it's about time to dilute my brain with alcohol.
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