for things to get better,
to be clearer,
to be easier.
Then I’m afraid…
because they’re not changing,
or I’m not changing,
and reality keeps reminding me
that waiting for a problem to solve itself
won’t get the problem solved.
What is the proper action to take,
when your whole world falls apart,
and you’re living in a hologram of the past?
I can see everything as it was,
four ghosts sitting around the dinner table,
blurs of movement
out of the corner of my eye
from events that took place years ago.
The reality is,
I’m just by myself tonight,
the house is quiet,
and my two children
are with the man who used to be my husband.
But sometimes it feels like he is still here.
Sometimes I expect my children
to run up to me,
to call out to me,
even though I know they’re not here.
It’s eerie, the way the mind plays tricks.
Help me, Great Spirit,
help me return to what is real.
Let me do what needs to be done.
No more waiting;
I’m ready to live again.
and I feel way less emotional
than I thought I would.
Even with you posting
the picture of your champagne,
saying “Divorce never tasted so good,”
and toasting your adventures
with your “new love…”
I’m not getting the same jolt
I got at this time last year,
when I realized you were with another.
There’s no more betrayal.
There’s no more grief.
There’s no more sense of loss.
I don’t need you anymore.
I have me now.
I have worked hard to heal
and to see what got me here;
I’m stronger now,
I can take care of myself…
and I love myself so much
that I actually enjoy being alone!
So go enjoy your Parisian vacation;
enjoy spending time with her.
I’m living deeper now,
inside a timeless place,
where the comings and goings
of a man such as you
can no longer affect me.
if you can help me shift
from indifference to compassion,
that would really be something!
I found out our divorce had been finalized
because a friend sent me a screenshot of your photo:
Veuve Clicquot on your dining room table
and your caption
Divorce never tasted so good.
And I thought to myself,
Ah, but it has.
My divorce tastes better.
It tastes like FREEDOM.
The fanciest champagne in the world
cannot compare with the
sweet, clear taste of freedom.
And the richest man in the world
cannot buy this freedom;
it must be felt
deep inside a mind
at home with itself
in this one moment.
Sorting through years of being together,
so many memories surfacing,
the sentimentality of it all.
When you left,
you took what you wanted
and left the rest,
an apt metaphor for our life together.
Now I’m left to sort through
the aftermath of our togetherness…alone.
Our children’s artwork, books, clothing, and toys,
bits of this and that,
odds and ends accumulated over the years…
You told me I didn’t want to move
because I have so much sh*t
that I just don’t want to deal
with sorting it and packing it up…
You were only partially correct.
For starters…a lot of this is OUR sh*t, sir,
which is what happens when two people
create two children and live together
for eight years.
A part of me doesn’t want to deal with it,
you are right—
but that’s just one part.
That’s the part you knew and criticized,
the one that was never good enough for you.
But I have other parts.
There’s one part who has been
only too glad to purge myself of you,
my body, my mind, my heart, my spirit,
my home…free from you.
There’s another part that is so strong
and so resilient, it has been working diligently
to release, release, release the old
in order to welcome the new.
Another part is really glad for the future
without you in it as my tormentor,
and who looks forward
to (one day when I’m ready)
stepping into the embrace
of a real man,
a man who sees me and loves me
for my power and strength,
my creativity and sensuality,
my generosity and compassion,
my ability to clearly articulate my thoughts and feelings,
my humor and my excitement about life.*
Yet another part is deeply calm and peaceful,
and maybe a little amused at this whole process.
Turns out, sir,
you didn’t know me.
You didn’t know me very much at all.
*Yes, if you had seen and appreciated any of these qualities, our story would have been very different. Your loss, buster. But namaste all the same. 🙏🏻🌈✨
on a year of many ups and downs…
Finally, resolution is in sight.
This time last year,
you will still living in this house.
This time last year,
you had just begun a relationship with her.
This time last year,
you were denying it.
This time last year,
I was losing weight,
angry at your infidelity,
your dishonesty, your dishonor.
This time last year
I held you responsible for my happiness,
and I had fallen to the depths of despair.
But this time next year,
I see myself happier, healthier than ever before.
This time next year,
I will be standing on my own two feet financially.
Maybe this time next year,
I’ll have a wonderful man in my life,
a man who wants to love me
the way I deserve to be loved.
I won’t make the same mistakes with him
that I made with you.
In the midst of the nightmare
that my happiness is within me,
and when I really find it,
no one can take it away,
not even you.
Now it’s time for integration of what I’ve learned,
and space to dream of what is to come.
I’m in a more peaceful place now,
at home in my body, in my heart, in my mind.
I can say “Thank you”—sincerely—
for the lessons you taught me,
and I can wish you well.
May you find wholeness in 2019,
may your heart’s desires be granted.
May you know healing on all levels.
May you be free.
Saturday night and I’m alone.
I used to have a husband
and we used to live together
with our two children…
I used to have a family.
I try not to retell the story
of how you made the choice
to break our family apart,
and share your heart
and bed with someone else.
But the pain is real,
and the grief surges up inside me
like a wave
and suddenly I’m drowning.
A drowning person
can’t think logically…
they’re fighting for survival.
All they want is a breath of air.
Just like this,
I cannot think my way out
of the grief that drowns me.
I’m thrashing about inside myself
looking for land,
trying to catch my breath,
but there’s no land,
and there’s no breath,
and I’m sinking deeper,
I want to forgive you.
I know my pain is holding me back,
and I know that my sadness
was never your fault.
I gave you too much power.
I wanted you to be my redeemer.
And after a while,
you were no longer my lover,
or my partner, or my best friend.
We fell apart…
and it is no one’s fault.
But how to move forward,
when the pain of loss
burns so brightly, still,
inside my heart?