Tag Archives: loss

Ready to Live

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I’m waiting…
for things to get better,
to be clearer,
to be easier.
Then I’m afraid…
because they’re not changing,
or I’m not changing,
and reality keeps reminding me
that waiting for a problem to solve itself
won’t get the problem solved.
What is the proper action to take,
when your whole world falls apart,
and you’re living in a hologram of the past?
I can see everything as it was,
four ghosts sitting around the dinner table,
blurs of movement
out of the corner of my eye
from events that took place years ago.
The reality is,
I’m just by myself tonight,
the house is quiet,
and my two children
are with the man who used to be my husband.
But sometimes it feels like he is still here.
Sometimes I expect my children
to run up to me,
to call out to me,
even though I know they’re not here.
It’s eerie, the way the mind plays tricks.
Help me, Great Spirit,
help me return to what is real.
Let me do what needs to be done.
No more waiting;
I’m ready to live again.



Inside My Heart

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I want to forgive you.
I know my pain is holding me back,
and I know that my sadness
was never your fault.
I gave you too much power.
I wanted you to be my redeemer.
And after a while,
you were no longer my lover,
or my partner, or my best friend.
We fell apart…
and it is no one’s fault.
But how to move forward,
when the pain of loss
burns so brightly, still,
inside my heart?

What You Left Behind

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You never cared about my words before,
but now, suddenly, you do?
You think you can use them to hurt me?
The joke’s on you.
If you’re going to read them,
you might as well know,
that I will love you always,
although not as before.
You share a bed with another now…
Do her eyes meet yours with equal intensity?
Will she be there for you if you fall?
Does she love your family like I still do?
Will she hold your nieces and nephews 
in her heart, will she look into their eyes?
Will she make you pajamas too?
Will she make your bed?
Will she wash your clothes?
Will she scoop the litter box?
Will she bring you tall glasses of ice water
in the summertime
when you’re outside doing yard work?
Will she stand up to you
when you try to force your hand?
Or will she just drink and watch TV with you?
Enjoy a rock concert or two,
a fancy dinner, a fancy vacation,
just her and you…
That’s what you wanted, yes?
Another you, with longer hair
and a female body
to help you forget
what you left behind.



Beloved Fragrance

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I’ve been searching for something out there,
sometimes catching a whiff of its fragrance
in the wind.
It would render me melancholy
to sense it but experience it
so far away,
when my heart longed for this thing
I could not know.
Sometimes it was a rush of cold air
into my nostrils
as I stepped from my grandmother’s house
into the winter night
and I’d search for the star
in the dark blue sky
that told me the light
was returning soon.
For the longest time
I feared the magic and suppressed it
much to my heart’s dismay.
The whole world seemed cold and dark
and I was trapped in a prison
of my own making.
Spirit came to rattle me out of my cage
and throw me into the light of day.
Such a fool I was,
resisting a project of God’s hand.
How can I stop the ocean from surging?
How can I move the sun in the sky?
How can I make the moon glow brightly?
How can I give the gift of new life?
I only experience these things
because consciousness pours through me.
Who made this consciousness,
the perceiver and the perceived?
My body speaks clearly.
Its language is believed.
I trust the longing in me now.
The magic in me swells alive within.
I open the door to the cold and dark everywhere
and catch its beloved fragrance on the wind.

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.

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?