Tag Archives: depression

Everything Will Work Out

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Just get through today,
my recovery friends tell me.
Just get through the next hour,
the next minute.
I ask myself what got me here,
wondering how I’ll make it through
one more minute.
It’s a soul contract,
my spiritual buddies tell me.
You accomplished
everything you were meant to
and now the relationship
has run its course.
You can let go now.
But how?
He’s gone,
and all I feel is the pain.
When did the pain start?
Surely before I married him.
I must’ve brought it with me
into the marriage,
and somehow, together,
we activated it
so that I could learn.
Can I thank him
for giving me a chance
to see and work through
my old pain?
Can I have faith
that Divine Love
brought me here
but won’t abandon me here?
Can I trust
that everything will work out?

Will It Help?

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I return home to an empty house.
I’m reminded of what I once had,
what is gone now.
They tell me You’ll get better,
You’ll get stronger.
They tell me
This is the best thing
that could’ve happened to you.
But what do they know?
Slogging it out,
one day at a time,
one year at a time,
recovering from
the devastation,
on most days
I feel too tired to be grateful,
and yet I keep pushing through.
I write in my gratitude journal:
I woke up today.
I meditated.
My sitter was able to come.
I was able to pay for lunch today.
They tell me my gratitude
will open up the gateway to abundance.
But will it help me to live
when I have no money left in my bank account?

Nothing to Forgive

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This is healing:
It goes in spirals,
rarely in a straight line,
takes steps, hops and leaps,
sometimes goes so slowly it aches,
wondering how long
it will feel this way,
wanting it to change,
wanting to be different,
asking for patience
when thoughts stay the same
day after day after day.
Hoping for little changes,
giving thanks for what is here,
giving thanks for love, for life.
This is courage:
taking one more breath
when you question
the reason for your being here,
and when nothing seems
good enough to keep you here,
when you want to get away from yourself,
from everything,
when you want to escape
everything that ails you
and you believe
that nothing will help you,
and when you think
becoming nothing
would mean everything to you,
taking one more breath,
and deciding to stay,
you breathe again.
This is grace:
Letting the tears flow
until you’ve been washed clean
of the pain and sorrow
that you have carried
for longer than anyone
ever should have,
awakening from trance
and realizing
the poison and the antidote
always exist side by side,
opening your eyes,
for just a moment,
bearing witness
to the most incredible miracle
of presence,
seeing the flow of existence,
remembering there is nothing to fear,
there is nothing to forgive.

 

 

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giving thanks for love, for life,
you breathe again.
there is nothing to forgive.

A Prayer for Forgiveness

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When will forgiveness come?
When will I be released?
I cry out to God
I don’t want to be in pain anymore.
I don’t want this anger,
this sadness.
What do I need to do to change this?
I suppose I don’t know anything at all.
I thought the choice to forgive
and the understanding
that my freedom relies on it
would be enough
to bring about the desired result—
the freedom of forgiving, letting go.
But nearly twelve moons have passed
since he torpedoed the life we shared
and I’m tired of living in a war zone.
Home doesn’t feel like home.
He left in April
and it’s more peaceful since he’s been gone,
but the war moved inside me
and it’s holding on.
I don’t want to be at war with myself.
Please God, show me how to forgive,
how to believe,
how to love and trust again.
This tender, vulnerable heart
wants to mend.
Please remove the grief.
Let me see with clear eyes again.
Let me forgive.
Let me forgive.
Help me forgive.

What Waits in the Darkness

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Caught in the trance of unworthiness*
Wondering what to do, where to go,
what to say and to whom,
which book to read,
what action to take,
how to stand, how to sit,
how to walk,
what to eat,
what to drink,
what to wear,
who will understand
all these questions, these doubts,
these fears.
There is a darkness,
an unspeakable horror in me,
clawing to get out.
It visits me in my dreams at night
and wakes me up.
I feel exhausted by these nightly hauntings.
I want release, relief, respite
from being tossed around on these huge waves
in the infinite ocean of consciousness,
the surface of which
has been stormy for quite some time.
I’m tired of the turbulence,
tired of this endless transition
from what was familiar
into a new life that I cannot see or fathom.
They say I’m at the helm.
They say I have the power.
They say I can change my narrative, my perception,
my life.
They tell me I’m better off without him.
This is just talk,
and I am tired of being thrown about endlessly
on enormous waves out in the middle of nowhere,
no land in sight,
on a flimsy vessel that is sinking fast.
I have nearly drowned a thousand times
in the dark waters of my psyche.
Why do I keep thrashing my way to the surface?
I want a safe harbor, a home,
a place of belonging,
a tribe who knows and loves me.
Why in the moment when I most need connection
does it seem that no one is there?
Why with all of this love around
does it not show up in the way I’m wanting?
More questions than answers,
and afraid to go to sleep
because I know what waits for me in the darkness:
more trance
more fear
more loneliness
than any human should bear.
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*Spiritual teacher Tara Brach talks about the trance of unworthiness in her book Radical Acceptance.

Hello, From The Deep

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I dove even deeper inside myself today.
The children were at school;
they’d be with their dad tonight,
and I had nowhere else to go.
I slowed down.
I wrote.
I listened to music.
I read.
I cried.
I weeded my flower garden,
took out the recycling,
affirmed
I let go of what I no longer need
so that I can welcome what I really want
into my life.
I took a long hot bath.
I took a nap.
I heard him tell me
in the echo of my memory
You’re just a squatter;
you don’t own that house.
I snuggled in deeper under the covers
and I slept more.
Yes, at some point
I’ll have to figure myself and my life out.
At some point
I’ll most likely need to make some money
to support myself and my children
after all this time.
But it wasn’t today.
Today was for slowing down
and going deeper.
Hello, from the deep.