Tag Archives: grief

Half of Us

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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

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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.

 

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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.

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.

Whole Regardless

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What is this yearning,
this longing for connection,
for closeness?
I can’t find what I seek outside of myself.
There is no one out there
who could fill the need within me.
There is a gaping hole in my heart
Left by the one
who said I do,
and then who retracted
his willingness
to explore our togetherness
eight years later,
saying
I don’t anymore.
But is this even true?
Was there ever a heart to break?
Or was there just an aching need
for wholeness?
Maybe he didn’t really leave a hole…
Maybe he left me to find out
that I am always whole,
regardless.

I Need to Be Patient

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I need to be patient with this process.
I was in the victim story
for a lot longer than the story
of my empowerment.
I believed he shouldn’t have left me
for a lot longer than I realized he should.
My pain is older than the loss of this marriage,
my abandonment, my grief, my heartache
much older than that moment
one year and one month ago
when he dropped the bomb
on the life I thought I knew.
And he is gone.
He has been gone for a while,
and he won’t be coming back.
And so now it is my task
to turn toward myself
and sit with the aching little girl
who clamors for my attention.
She cries out in anger and despair
because I haven’t been there for her,
so taken was I
with the telling of my sad, sad story.
I need to be patient with this process.
Taking ownership of one’s pain
is something that many people
will never realize they can do
let alone go ahead and do
once they realize they can.
I am making this choice.
I feel alone in it.
But that’s just because
no one I know personally
has made such a choice before.
Surely, though,
there are beloveds out there,
kindreds, who just like me
want to evolve until the day they die,
sweethearts who want to own their pain
so that they have the space,
the depth
and the presence
to own their joy.

When Will I Feel Whole?

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And so the dark night passed,
and I awoke with new hope…
and then this morning at breakfast
my daughter was unkind.
Eight years old and
knows exactly what to say
to poke at the most tender spot.
I’m glad you’re not coming
with us to Utah.
I was devastated,
hurt and angry…
Tired, undernourished,
and without the resources
to be skillful.
I asked if she wanted the other woman
to be her mother.
A most definitive NO was her answer.
It seems the joke is on me.
As much as I try
even a child can break me.
It’s easy to do when my life was shattered
in so many pieces
and my tears are the only glue I have
to hold them together.
I wonder if I’ll ever again
be put back together in one piece.
I wonder…
When will I feel whole again?

Depression Sucks

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I thought it would get better by morning.
It didn’t.
If anything it was worse.
After getting the kids on the bus,
I got back in bed,
hoping to sleep off
some of the depression and anxiety.
I got up a while later;
my body was hungry.
Made myself a protein shake,
went back to bed.
Then the guilt and the shame arrived.
You should be working.
You should be making money.
Stop feeling sorry for yourself.
You’re a piece of shit.
That didn’t help either;
it just made it worse.
You know what?
Depression really, really sucks.