The Toolbox

Chicken Soup for the Soul: Divorce and Recovery

BY: Mia Gardner

"So, how was your day?" Chuck, my ex-husband, asked on this, his third call of the day. It was Friday night, I'd had a long week and I had to report to my second job, waitressing at a pancake house early the next morning. Usually, I screened his calls, but that night I was wondering what the heck I was doing with my life. We had been married for eighteen years. We had a son in his senior year of high school and college-bound. I was sleeping on a mattress on the floor because Chuck had taken the waterbed when we divorced. Was I really better off?

Chuck went on, "I'm really missing you... and Alex of course. I've learned a lot, and I think we should talk about getting back together. When are you going to get over this so I can come back home?" We had separated four months earlier -- which included the three during which we were formally divorced. I had started the divorce proceedings in March, moved out of our master bedroom to the guest room, and got a second job to help soften the blow of losing his income.

In late March, I took a trip and drove to my sister's house in California, partly just to get out of the house, but also to give myself time alone to think. Was I abandoning my marriage vows? Was I going against my religious beliefs? I trusted my sister, and during one late night talk at her kitchen table, I talked to her about my fears.

Her answer: "Chuck has never lived up to his vows as a husband. He never worked in the marriage and has not taken care of you or Alex, physically or emotionally. You've had to shoulder the role of wife, husband, mother, and father for too many years. No wonder you're burned out." Her words helped me to focus my doubts about getting a divorce and made me realize I had been unhappy for many years.

Now Chuck's call came at a time of weakness. Had I wanted too much? Was life just about this -- living with someone who you have memories with and can finish your stories -- or, is there more out there? Someone to love who can love me back? I went to bed on my mattress and slept poorly, thoughts and doubts running through my head, as I wondered whether I should give him a second chance.

The next morning, before I went to my waitressing job, I realized the light bulb on the back porch needed replacing. I felt insecure with the light being out, right next to my sliding glass window. I went for the toolbox that Chuck had made up for me before we parted.

Before he moved out, as I was packing up the kitchen, I made sure he got his fair half of everything, including anything his parents had given us. When he packed the garage, he asked, "What do you want out of my tools?" I had purchased tools for him every birthday and Christmas, hoping he'd find a hobby to fill all his free time.
"Just make me up a toolbox so I can repair little things around the house," I'd replied. And, as I helped him move out that July day, I noticed a small toolbox set aside for my use. It was a busy day and I never did go over to check on what he had left for me in the toolbox -- until that October morning.

I pulled out the toolbox to find one flat head screwdriver, one Phillips-head screwdriver, an old rusty set of pliers, and a broken hammer. This, after I gave him half of the kitchen stuff and he doesn't even cook! While I made use of the old and broken tools to replace the light bulb, using every cuss word I knew directed at Chuck, I realized that this thoughtlessness was the real reason we had divorced. He had never thought of my well-being at all -- and the toolbox was my physical proof that kept me from making the big mistake of taking him back, just because I was lonely.

I'm happy to say it was the right decision. After dating some total losers during my first year of singlehood, I found a gem seven years later.

I threw away the old toolbox and tools without a second thought.

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