How a Blizzard Rescued Me
It had been the worst four months of my life.
I was stuck on an emotional roller coaster I wanted to get off of, but all I could do was grab the handrail and hold on tighter until the ride ended. I could waive off physical pain pretty quickly, but like most, emotional pain had a much more significant impact.
My wife and I separated at the end of September 2009. We had only been married for two and a half years but had been together for about six years. That’s not excessive time by any standards, but it was long enough that I couldn’t get a clean emotional break.
More importantly, we had a daughter. She was one and a half when we separated. Walking away cleanly was never an option.
We didn’t share custody for the first few months after we separated. My ex-wife didn’t work. She would take our daughter during the day and leave when I got home. I would then take our daughter after work and on the weekends.
I still remember when my ex-wife said she wanted to start keeping our daughter for a few nights a week and rotate some weekends. I also still remember the pain and loneliness I felt that very first night when I didn’t have my daughter with me.
My heart was newly broken every time she left.
We got into a nice little co-parenting groove, and a routine slowly built. Then, the end of January 2010 came, and the meteorologists started talking about a significant snow event headed our way.
I live in the Washington, DC area. If you were around in 2010, you know the exact event I’m talking about. It was dubbed “Snowmageddon” after all was said and done.
The first storm hit on February 5, 2010. This storm dropped between 15–20 inches of snow in my area. While we hadn’t finished digging out after the first storm, another storm dropped 10–15 inches on February 9–10.
Just my luck, these storms fell during my custody window. It would be me and my daughter, snowed in at home alone.
I have to paint a picture of where I was mentally and emotionally during this time. I was newly separated, and my world was upside down. I was depressed, anxious, guilty, and full of shame. I didn’t think I could be a good dad. The way I saw it, I was a failure.
Writing a story where everything worked out is easy, and you can impart some grand lessons or experiences about your personal growth. Unfortunately, all the pain and hard times resided in how things worked out. As they say, the devil is in the details. Reliving those details can knock you to your knees, whether you persevere or not.
I’m not the same person I was back then. I’ve learned, grown, and changed, yet my emotional memory is vivid and intense. And painful. I never thought things I had moved past would still contain a little sting. I sometimes wonder if there will always be a little jolt to them.
I made it through, and everything turned out good. I’m better than I ever could have imagined. But I still wonder if I did well enough. Time will reveal the answer, but is it an answer I can accept if, or when it’s received? What if I don’t want to accept it?
As a parent, you do the best you know how to do. There’s no manual, just word-of-mouth advice from others.
In the years all of this was taking place, I used to pray that my child was young enough then that she wouldn’t remember how close to the edge I was while the divorce was occurring. The edge was I would either suffer a mental and emotional breakdown or take my daughter and run as far as we could.
Sometimes, I wonder if she remembers all of the diaper changes where I broke down into tears because I didn’t think I could be the dad she needed. I know it registered with her at the time because I can still see that puzzled look on her face as she looked up at me, and tears streamed down my face.
It’s a difficult place to be in where you’re struggling mentally and physically, and you also have to care for someone else who isn’t able to do it for themselves. Your children never realize how much they were a part of you, being able to lift yourself, dust yourself off, and charge back into the world. You charge with fear and apprehension, but you charge. You do it because there is no other choice.
It soon sank in; this storm wouldn’t be one the meteorologists could guess wrong on. I realized this weekend would be me, a two-year-old, our dog, and all my bottled emotions. I wanted to be snowed in alone to hide from the world, and all my problems were what I kept thinking.
But I didn’t have a choice, so I went to Blockbuster because that’s what we did in 2010. On my way home, I stopped at the grocery store and grabbed enough toddler-friendly food to last us for a week, just in case. It was still too early for the meteorologists to have any concrete predictions about the second storm based on the models they were using. But I knew I should play it safe with the groceries and a small child.
As the snow started to fall during the afternoon of February 5, 2010, my daughter was the most excited I had seen her to that point in her life. We threw on our snow clothes, and I took her outside to check it out. She loved it. Watching her be so happy and full of joy struck me. I hadn’t been able to get fully immersed in a happy moment since my wife and I split.
At this moment, I felt happiness for a change — no anxiety, depression, or self-loathing. It was like a cloud had lifted. We played outside until she got too cold. We laughed, ate snow, and even got the dog outside to join us. Our dog has since passed, but my daughter and dog were my home base for a long time.
It hit me as we returned inside, and I started preparing dinner for her. I hadn’t had “fun” with anything since my wife and I separated. My life had no joy or happiness—just little specks when I was alone with my daughter.
Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad after all. Yes, it would be a tough weekend trying to navigate the weather and entertaining a two-year-old, all while trying to handle my emotional turmoil. But why couldn’t we have fun all weekend? Why couldn’t I take some days off from the grieving and misery and pick it back up later?
What I felt wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon, so why not block it out and try and soak up as much of this moment as possible? It worked for some reason. I made the most of those moments while snow dumped on us for the next two days.
We watched cartoons, played with toys and the dog, played in the snow, and marveled at a possible once-in-a-lifetime occurrence. I guessed this wouldn’t happen again, so I made it a point to soak it up.
The weekend drawing to a close was bittersweet. Reality started to set back in. As fun as the weekend was, my life was still in shambles. I wouldn’t be able to continue to push everything aside.
I would pick it back up and face it whether I wanted to or not. It felt different this time. I couldn’t put my finger on it, but something had changed. As awful as diving back into the awfulness of divorce seemed in my mind, for the first time, I had hope.
I had just made it through a blizzard with a two-year-old and a dog. Nobody got hurt, and we didn’t run out of food. All I could think was that everything was going to be okay. Maybe not great, but okay, which was good enough for me.
Epilogue
As I write this, it’s a little over fourteen years later, and I was right. Everything turned out better than okay. Of course, a lot went into manifesting that outcome, but I made it.
No matter what you are going through, it’s all about weathering the storms and hanging tight during the ups and downs. It’s more important to continue putting one foot before the other to ensure you reach a different destination. Sometimes, it’ll seem like you’re getting more than you can handle, but you aren’t. You’re equipped to face down and conquer whatever challenges you face.
The storm always passes.
