I remember looking at the song title and thinking, “Huh, ‘Lump Sum.’ How appropriate for a divorce.”

You really have to listen to it to get the full effect. I’m actually listening to the album right now, and it’s raining. Too perfect. Melancholy as it is, it brings me an odd sense of comfort. I remember putting it on approximately a year after that day, when I was in my own apartment, the first apartment I lived in by myself.

It’s true. A year later, life was good. But I was still figuring out a lot. I still am.

Once I knew it was over with my ex, I remember reaching out to a friend who recently had gone through a divorce. I remember her clearly telling me that the next year of my life would be the hardest. She suggested taking down all of my social media accounts, since people would start to figure things out and have questions; I’d be changing my name, I’d be deleting tons of photos, etc.

She was right. Although I didn’t take my accounts offline, all of those things were true. Even now, my efforts to delete nearly every trace of my former relationship on social media doesn’t stop things from popping up in Timehop and Facebook memories. Tons of friends and family have documentation from my wedding day, even if I’ve managed to wipe my own account fairly clean.

It’s OK. It’s not exactly like I’m trying to erase my past. Most of the time, on days like today, it just shows me how far I’ve come.

Over these past 5 years, especially in the first couple, I just didn’t understand how I’d gotten it SO wrong. I do take marriage seriously. I took my vows seriously; I wrote them myself. How did I screw it all up? Not the marriage itself — that takes two — but my choice of life partner.

And that’s not meant as an offense to him. It’s just that he doesn’t possess a lot of qualities or interests that I learned were really important to me. It scares me. It makes me feel like we don’t know who the fuck we really are in our 20s, and tons of people get married in their 20s. Some of them are just fine, but I know there are others like me, who wake up one day and are like, THIS PERSON? How did this happen?!

We just didn’t grow together. It happens. I honestly feel like the end of the marriage in a lot of ways is more on me than him. Yes, he left, he “ended” it. But from the time we met, and especially when we moved to Wisconsin, I really set off in another direction with my wants and needs. I also think he had all of these ideals about some path we were supposed to be on, and I wasn’t fitting into that, as I was figuring myself out. I just don’t think he realized how unhappy he was, in general, and I think he sees it now. He seems much happier now, and I’m glad.

Honestly, though, I feel like getting divorced resulted in an evolvement from a former version of myself. Starting over at 30 isn’t exactly ideal, but it’s a lot better than a host of alternatives. Now at 35, I’m very confident about who I am and what I want. I’m still going to make mistakes, but I don’t think I’m going to make them in love.

In general, I’ve still got a long way to go in figuring things out. Things like:

– Saving money (LOL, what?!)

– Budgeting (more specifically, actually sticking to the budget)

– Dealing with hurt feelings

– Handling stress in healthier ways

– Riding a bike without freaking out (still!)

But I do think I’ve figured out love, for myself. Romantic love, anyway; I’m still figuring out how to love myself.

The thing about romantic love is, you’re only half of the whole. It’s more than just feelings. It’s making a choice every day. It’s a partnership.

More on that in Part 2.