Tag Archives: hurt

Another Poem (Gratitude)

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Before he dropped the bomb
I had a regular, consistent gratitude practce.
I recorded five things every night
for which I was grateful.
I had been doing this for years,
faithfully,
and had already filled multiple books
with my nightly gratitudes.
After he dropped the bomb,
I expanded my practice.
When my mind was telling me my life was over
and that I’d never be happy again,
I recorded twenty things every night
for which I was grateful.
I began to count the smallest things
as important…
the way the sun rose,
the way my child’s voice sounds,
the taste of soup,
the temperature of the wind.
I realized that those “little” things
are enormous in their beauty
and their presence.
I realized I could be more grateful.
I started to realize that happiness
is a choice I make every day.
I’m into my healing process.
I can thank him for dropping the bomb
and blowing my old life to bits
so that I could create a new life.
I’m still working on forgiveness,
but that is another poem.


Nothing Makes Sense

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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.

If Only

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I didn’t know
I could hurt this much.
As I pierce through
one layer of grief
I discover a whole new layer
to navigate.
If I start to wonder
how many layers there are
I make myself crazy with anxiety,
asking if I can bear it much longer.
Maybe my work is acceptance.
Not trying to figure the pain out,
but allowing it to come, to be.
It might have something to teach me,
if only I’d listen.

What Tomorrow Brings

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It sneaked up on me again.
The grief took me by surprise,
and then it took my breath away.
And I found myself,
just minutes before teaching
a class on self-love,
hating myself.
And I was humbled by the irony.
And I was reminded
of my humanity.
And I felt flattened
by the massive flood
of emotions
threatening to carry me away…
And I taught anyway.
Afterwards,
as students thanked me
for a beautiful class,
I was thankful for their beauty.
Can I be thankful for my
big emotions too?
Can I be grateful
for feeling this deeply?
And can I even thank the one
who hurt me?
The one who left me?
The one who said I do
and then eight years later
said, I won’t anymore?
Maybe growing up
is the process of
asking hard questions
and living the answers.
Let’s see what tomorrow brings.