Tag Archives: honesty

I’m Going In

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I’ve been receiving the clear message
from Spirit,
from my intuition,
or maybe from just good common sense
that I need to let go of my old stuff
in order to welcome new experiences
into my life.
I mean,
if my heart is full of the past,
longing for a love that once was,
how can it beat with a new rhythm
for someone ready to share love with me now?
If my eyes see only my past
how can I train them
to look toward my future?
If my body is full of my past,
how can I teach it
to move and dance into a new reality?
I’ve been telling myself
that I was too depressed,
to overwhelmed,
too burdened,
too stressed
to start going through my stuff.
But Spirit has been speaking louder and louder
and now I am finally listening.
I realize that I’ve been scared to look at the piles of things
in my basement,
afraid of the memories they will trigger.
But today I feel strong, ready and willing
to face whatever it is, and clear it out,
so that I can have a new, spacious experience
and welcome what I really want into my life.
I’M GOING IN NOW.
WISH ME LUCK!

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.

NaPoWriMo2018, day 13: Time to get Going

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Today’s prompt asked us to take a familiar phrase and upend it.  I had trouble with that, most probably because I began the poem when it was so late, and I am tired in every fiber of my being.  But then the phrase, “When the going gets tough, the tough get going” came to me.  So maybe I can upend that.

When the stopping gets easy, the easy stop.
Yes, that about sums up the end of my marriage.
Today, it is easy to leave a marriage,
it’s easy to give up, to just stop.
It’s so common now, so normal,
that no one is ever really surprised by it.
But I was surprised.
I was surprised when he came to me
and announced he was done.
I wonder how many people
have gotten sick of hearing this story,
and I feel ashamed for telling it…again.
He wanted things to be easy,
he identified with easy.
So it was easy for him to stop, to just leave.
Meanwhile he stayed in our house
and I was a puddle on the floor.
I’m wondering how I’ll support my children.
There is nothing easy about the feelings I have
as I write about my fears,
but I guess that means I won’t stop.
I won’t give up.
I’m not an easy woman;
maybe that’s why he had to leave me.
And now that the going has gotten tough,
I suppose it’s time to get going.

Strange Dreaming, Stranger Awake

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I awake fresh from a dream
where I spoke with his mistress
and then with him.
She said that she initiated it
and that he was happy to follow her.
She sat in his chair at his salon
and he did her hair.
When I approached him
he was in my parents’ bed
in my childhood home
with his brother,
who looked up and said,
“This is some F**KED UP SH** right here!”
I couldn’t agree more.
My dream spurred me to action,
but my husband in waking reality
wouldn’t tell me his story,
wouldn’t tell me the truth.
Instead he called the police.

My Contribution Speaks

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I wonder if you ever really loved me.
Why am I sad to see you go?
They say that shame can’t live
when it’s spoken.
Why in the speaking
do I feel so ashamed?
After this time,
the very idea of sleeping with
someone other than my husband
is utterly absurd
and yet…
he has already slept with another woman.
My husband, the man who was mine,
gave a part of himself away to someone else,
a part that was reserved only for me,
and he shall never be with me in that way again.
I think again about forgiveness,
the years I was told I wasn’t enough,
I didn’t contribute,
I wasn’t a partner.
Two beautiful children
look up at us with wide eyes.
My contribution speaks for itself.

Time to Forgive

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And then there comes a time
when the hurt and the pain
are too much to bear
and the burden is just so great
that something must change.
And that something is my perception.
When I change the way  I look out on the world,
my inner world changes.
I see how my thoughts give rise to reality
and how my anger isn’t helping me.
I see that attempting to shame him
for my discomfort
is only doing to him
what I thought he was doing to me—
using me to tell a victim story.
I am not a victim.
I am the fortunate recipient of the life spark,
and I will carry it for as long as I am meant to.
I think I’ve said this before
(and recently)
But it’s time to forgive.
It really is.

Give It A Try

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If I died today,
would I feel good
about the legacy
I left behind?
No.
There is so much more I want to do,
so much more life I want to live,
so many experiences I want to have,
so many things I want to give.
It’s sobering to realize
I’m not ready to die,
and illuminating
to think about why.
Feeling brave?
Give it a try.