Tag Archives: betrayal

Half of Us

Standard

How could I ever love again?
Heart broken into a thousand tiny pieces…
Memories as fresh as if they happened yesterday
turning in my stomach as I turn down a street
we drove together a thousand times.
I breathe. I’m still here.
How could I ever trust again?
Vows broken as if they were nothing.
Contracts unspoken, lives undone,
families shattered into unrecognizable iterations,
the friendly faces that were once so dear to me
withhold their light, retreat into darkness, silence.
Who am I in this chaos?
If I am to love, I must love myself.
If I am to trust, I must trust myself.
If I am to find wholeness, I must complete myself.
God, hear my prayer.
Let me trust these changes.
Let me believe good things are coming
in the new dawning of my soul
as I finally release the sad hollowness
of a love that was held and nourished faithfully
by just one half of us.

He’s Won

Standard

More tears.
More anger.
Unending darkness.
Feeling hopeless,
worthless.
Alone.
The things that brought me joy
can no longer reach me. I try
but nothing gets done.
Take some pills they say.
They’ll take the edge off they say.
I give up.
He’s won.

 

***********
I’m thinking of taking a break from this blog after never missing a daily post for the last four and a half years. I can’t see what purpose is being served by my sharing here, as my sharing has heavily centered on grieving the loss of my marriage for over a year now. I want to contribute to the happiness of the people on this planet, not their sadness, but by sharing my sadness, don’t I amplify it? Has it been selfish of me to share publicly in this way and to let you know that I’m suffering? I honestly have been hoping that my writing here would bring me some relief, but I take no joy in it; it’s something I make myself do—and how inspiring can words born of that mindset really be?  If my words don’t inspire, I don’t want to inflict them on anyone.

I feel burdened by life, consumed in a darkness that threatens to blot out all memory of happiness and love and light. A mighty battle is being fought within me, a battle between darkness and light—and I’m not feeling confident of the outcome.  Both of my kids noticed.

My six year old son said, “Do you know what my greatest enemy is?”

“What?” I asked.

“Losing you,” he said.  I cried.  We were in my room looking at a Divine Feminine oracle deck while my daughter was bathing.

After she was out of the bath tub, the three of us piled into my bed to hang out while I brushed my daughter’s hair. After I was done brushing, she got up, looked at me with her eight years of wisdom, and said, “You know people die of sadness?”

“Oh really?” I asked. “Can you tell me more about that?”

“People can get so sad that they…just…die. And I don’t want that to happen to you.” I cried again.

My children nestled their heads against me and I stroked their hair while I cried more.  I felt like a piece of shit for not being able to just buck up and pretend I’m fine…so that they can know they’re safe in the presence of a strong mother who has it together for them—or some bullshit unreasonable thing people keep telling me I should do so that my kids don’t get traumatized by my depression. It’s great to be quite literally dying of sadness and then have a critical voice remind me that I’m selfish and should be a better mother and put my children first instead of wallowing in self-pity.

I’m fortunate in that my girlfriend Lucy is flying me out to CO to get away from this home where I lived with my husband and children for three and a half years. Too many memories.  Too many triggers.  My children will be in Utah with their father and his mistress.  He’s taking her home to meet his parents.  We’re still married, and I’m struggling to find my will to live each day.

I can’t know that this isn’t the best thing for me. So many people have said to me He gave you your freedom.  Someday you’ll see that and be grateful for it. But I’m not sure I’m going to make it to someday. Sometimes I wonder if I’ll make it one more day.

I’m considering taking a break from this blog while I’m in CO from 7/21-7/31.  I’m thinking of taking a complete break from everything I normally do, pack very lightly, and just be really open to what might arise in the space of not planning and not knowing.  What I’ve been doing isn’t working. It’s time for something to change.

Perhaps a change of pace. A change of scenery. A change of faces, and smells, and sounds, nothing familiar to trigger the cascade of sadness that hasn’t stopped flowing for a year. I’m bleeding out emotionally and the situation is dire.  No one can save me but me and I have to choose to want to be saved.  I hope the mountains will return me to my sanity. I’ll keep you posted, let you know what I decide. Thanks for reading.

All I See

Standard

One year later
and it still hurts,
I’m still crying.
A girlfriend told me
My sister grieved for eight years.
Do I have seven left to go?
I gather proof of their togetherness;
each image I see
drives the knife in deeper.
Friends ask me
Are you sure you want to see this stuff?
It’s for my attorney, I answer.
But there’s a part of me,
beyond lawyers
and terms like adultery,
who just wants to see.
I want to see how he spends his time,
the person he has become,
the images he chooses to share
with the world,
or at least the part of the world
he hasn’t blocked.
I’m on the outside looking in,
knocking at the door,
searching for a new sense of belonging.
I thought he was the door
to love, stability, family, connection.
I thought he was my savior.
But now I look up,
and I can’t see him anymore.
I look up,
and all I see is my reflection.

Nothing Makes Sense

Standard

Holding on.
Why?
A part of me thinks
he’ll come back
and apologize.
That’s nuts!
Would I even want
to get back together
with a man
who dissolved our marriage,
blamed me for it,
had an affair,
and lied about it?
And what would that say about me
if I took him back after all that?
What does it say about my self-esteem,
my sense of self-worth, my pride?
But still I fantasize about our family
being together again,
the four of us living
under the same roof again;
I fantasize about
being welcomed by his family again.
Nothing makes sense inside.
Nothing makes sense.

How?

Standard

You have to just let go
they keep telling me.
But how?
I think really
IT needs to let go of me.
IT has its hooks in me.
I want to be free.
I want to feel alive again.
I don’t want to be angry,
hurt, sad or depressed anymore.
I want to set my life in order.
I want my home to be organized.
I want to have work
that allows me
to support myself and my children.
But tomorrow
I apply for food stamps
because my money is all gone.
I get angry when I think about this.
He left our marriage,
and has moved on.
Now he spends his time
and his money on another.
Yes, I want to let go.
But how?

I Hope So

Standard

Driving home,
tired to the bone,
the Pawlonia and honey locust
give me hope,
glowing in the setting sun.
Whizzing by
do the other drivers see
the majesty of this moment,
this life?
I’m feeling alone.
All of the other old feelings come back.
I ask again why it has come to this,
why I am now struggling financially,
why my children aren’t with me daily,
why he gets to strut around town
with a new woman
(in her sexy dresses and high heels)
while I’m at home alone
worrying about money.
I’m tired.
Maybe this will all look different tomorrow.
I hope so.

NaPoWriMo 2018, Day 18: Off

Standard

I sit down to write my daily poem with one hour left in this day, and I notice how tired I am.  Here is today’s NaPoWriMo prompt.  It sounds like a beautiful idea and process, but I just don’t have the energy in me right now.  So I’m going off prompt!

****************
My whole life was turned upside down last July
when my husband told me he wanted a divorce
and it hasn’t flipped upright since then.
I haven’t eaten well, slept well,
or felt truly like myself in a long time.
I have lost mutual friends to the story he told,
and really, would I want them as friends
if they can turn based on one person’s story?
But all the same I miss them
and don’t know what to do with these feelings
of grief, loss and betrayal.
I don’t know what to do with the images
of him making love to another woman,
images in my mind, more real
than anything I could see in a movie theater.
I don’t know what to do with the hopes I had,
hopes to reconcile, hopes to rebuild,
to recommit, to outlast all the trials
and come out standing, stronger, confident
of our love and our bond.
Yes, I haven’t eaten well, slept well,
and I miss closeness with my husband,
in spite of all that he has said and done.
I guess you could say I’m a little “off.”