Sometimes I wonder
how you could go from
I love you
to It’s over.
But that’s exactly what happened,
from one month to the next…
nearly two years later,
I’m still wondering.
I’ve read another book,
The Way of the Superior Man,* by David Deida.
(You told me I read too many books,
but then I think you watch way too much TV.)
I flagged each sentence
that shed light on what went wrong
in our marriage.
I’ll go back and reread what I’ve flagged,
memorize the passages,
so that never again
will I share my heart
with a weak man,
a man who blames his woman
for his shortcomings,
a man who defends his mediocrity
by rescinding his responsibility.
I’ll read every book I can get my hands on
about cultivating a healthy relationship with myself
and healthy relationships with others.
I’m becoming quite an educated woman.
The beauty of my aloneness
is that I get to dream of being
with someone who deserves me,
and I get to cultivate the deep sense of worthiness
that will draw him to me.
I’m still healing from the wounds you inflicted
when you left our marriage in such a cowardly way.
when I’m with a beautiful, strong man
who loves and appreciates my deeply feminine core,
I’ll thank you for giving up,
because I know I was worth so much more.
*I cannot recommend this book highly enough. It resonated so deeply and clarified so much. I’ve never felt so vindicated, seen, heard and understood. Ladies, every one of you, please read this book. Gentlemen, every one of you, please read this book.
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.
Falling into an abyss,
powerless to slow the fall,
grasping for something
to give me a sense of
but there’s nothing,
nothing to hold onto.
I look inside,
but the darkness there
is darker than the darkest night.
Everywhere I look
the darkness clouds
this experience of life.
Clearly it’s time for a change…
I can hear you tell me that this is all my fault.
I can hear you blaming me for everything that’s wrong.
And still I miss our togetherness,
the intimate moments we shared,
just for us.
When will this sick mind heal,
this mind that longs for the very thing
that wounded it?
As I continue to fall,
I keep wondering
Will someone eventually catch me?
Will I grow wings and fly?
Will I smash into a million pieces at the bottom?
I drank some wine tonight…
specifically to alter my mood.
I was feeling anxious
and exhausted from enduring
the difficult feelings.
I wanted them to change.
I want to escape these feelings.
I wonder why I had children.
Sometimes I wish I didn’t.
I wish I could run away.
My children are the only reason
I’m still here in this part of the world.
I’ve thought about leaving this planet
many times this past year.
I’ve had more thoughts like these
since the holiday season has arrived.
The anger is back and so is the depression.
I wonder how long I can make it
feeling like this.
I don’t want to have to take pills.
I want to lick this on my own.
But it is licking me.
I’m angry at life.
Then I feel guilty for feeling angry.
Then I’m ashamed that I haven’t
fixed my life by now.
I keep working to improve myself,
but the deeper I dig
the more faults I discover.
Why did I start digging in the first place?
I could go on forever,
but you probably wouldn’t read this,
and your reading this is one of the only reasons
I’m writing this.
I thought this was for me,
but really it’s because I long to be seen
and heard and understood.
Thanks for listening.
There have been many times
this past year and a half
where I was sure
I didn’t want to go on living.
The pain was too intense,
the grief too deep,
the anger too hot,
the overwhelm too suffocating…
and I just wanted to escape.
But somehow, magically,
at just the point when I had reached
the peak of my pain
and was ready to give up,
someone or something would show up
to help me give life another chance.
I am so grateful for the incredible grace
that has flowed through my life,
always giving me reasons to stay alive
when I was ready to reject everything.
I give thanks to the one who knows me,
to the one who knows exactly what I need
to always give life another chance.
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,
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.
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?
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 listened to music.
I weeded my flower garden,
took out the recycling,
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.