Tag Archives: marriage

I Got A Haircut!

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I was married to a hairdresser,
and in June 2017
he told me he would no longer cut my hair.
(Or sleep in the same bed.
Or share our life, our finances, our time.)
I’ve been sleeping alone since then,
and have fought mightily
to stay committed to this plane of existence,
and I have progressed by leaps and bounds
since June 2017, when I was
a messy slobbering puddle on the floor
grieving my life before it was blown apart.
As time passed
I discovered that I enjoyed sleeping alone,
and I felt more committed to
staying on this plane of existence,
but I still hadn’t gotten my hair cut.
I had built up the importance
of finding a new hairdresser
to the point of feeling anxious
and overwhelmed at the prospect of choosing.
So I didn’t choose.
I did nothing.
My dear friend gifted me with a hair cut last July
when I visited her in Colorado,
and I was oh so grateful to be neatened up a bit…
but I still hadn’t found
someone else to cut my hair in this town where I live,
until today.
Today I picked up the phone,
dialed the salon nearest my house,
booked the next available appointment,
found my way into a chair just an hour later.
I got a haircut!
I got a haircut!
I got a haircut!
And I am free at last.

The Beauty of My Aloneness

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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…
And yes,
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.
Eventually, though,
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.

Everything Will Work Out

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Just get through today,
my recovery friends tell me.
Just get through the next hour,
the next minute.
I ask myself what got me here,
wondering how I’ll make it through
one more minute.
It’s a soul contract,
my spiritual buddies tell me.
You accomplished
everything you were meant to
and now the relationship
has run its course.
You can let go now.
But how?
He’s gone,
and all I feel is the pain.
When did the pain start?
Surely before I married him.
I must’ve brought it with me
into the marriage,
and somehow, together,
we activated it
so that I could learn.
Can I thank him
for giving me a chance
to see and work through
my old pain?
Can I have faith
that Divine Love
brought me here
but won’t abandon me here?
Can I trust
that everything will work out?

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.

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.

NaPoWriMo 2018, Day 16: Toys of Her Own

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Today we’re asked to write about play.  See the prompt here. This year, I’m noticing I’m consumed by the theme of the decimation of my marriage, and so this is the first thing that came to me as I read the prompt.

******************

There wasn’t enough of it in our relationship.
If there had been, we might have stood a chance.
But things got so serious, especially after we became parents.
The sad part is, we really had all we needed,
and the kids showed us every day how to be natural,
lighthearted, taking pleasure in simple things,
finding the joy in every little thing.
We could’ve let them be our teachers,
but we were too busy trying to be adults.
After a time the little boy in you began to tantrum;
he was tired of being ignored.
And you hadn’t done the work of deep listening,
so the feeling of discontent was taken as evidence
of my failings and our inherent incompatibility…
and that’s the story you told.
We’re just not right for each other.
We’ll never be able to make this work
or so you said. Yes, you weren’t willing to change.
That responsibility fell on me.
So the little girl in me said, “OH HELL NO!”
I had done the work of deep listening,
and I took time to honor the voices within.
Out of love for you and because
I was committed to our marriage,
I increased the time spent sorting myself out,
because I knew I’d be a better wife,
lover, mother, friend, and creatrix
if I could understand the currents at work
within me.
But all those things scared the little boy in you.
He called me selfish.  He said I wasn’t a partner.
And after eight years and two beautiful children,
the tantruming little boy said, “ENOUGH!”
So you got out and you played.
First with some friends,
eventually with another woman’s body.
I try to see the innocence,
you entering her
the way you would a playground,
you picking her up
the way you would pick up flowers
and sticks and bugs,
you riding her
the way you would a swing…
But it wasn’t as innocent as all that,
and you lied when I discovered your games,
tried to make me think I was crazy,
tried to make me doubt myself, my intuition.
Now you’ve found a more expensive toy,
a BMW. Is the little boy happy now?
Maybe one day you’ll see that all you really wanted
was to be seen, and heard and held,
to laugh, to run, to be free…
all you wanted was a little play.
I could’ve given you that,
but you thought you needed new toys.
Farewell, little boy.
This little girl has done her homework.
After the dust settles,
you’ll need to go back to school
and work hard to relearn some basic skills—
respect, honor, dignity,
commitment, understanding, empathy.
Meanwhile my little girl
will be having the time of her life.
She’ll be outside running in the open air,
shouting, whooping, dancing, spinning,
playing with friends and new toys of her own.

NaPoWriMo 2018, Day 15: Narcissus in the Spring

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Today we were invited to take a villain and humanize them.  Check out the prompt here. I have my villain.  If you’ve been following me you know who it is without trying too hard.

******************
He left us.
Left our marriage,
our family.
Left our children
to pursue another.
He lied.
Lied to me,
his family,
our friends,
created a camp,
started a war.
When I could sense the truth in my body,
he gaslighted me, told me I was crazy.
And now he wants my help.
How can I say no?
I met him nine years ago this month;
we were married eight years in November,
and the love doesn’t stop
even when he betrays the sanctity of our union.
He’s in pain.
He hurts and he doesn’t know the cause.
He wanted this transition to be the medicine
he’s been craving for two years now.
But the sorry sap doesn’t see his own folly.
If he can’t take ownership of his role
in our relationship
or any relationship for that matter,
he’ll be doomed forever,
caught in the endless cycle
of perceived victimhood,
looking outside of himself for the answers
that can only come from deep within.
No matter.
By the time all of this catches up to him
I’l be gone.
I’ve watched the narcissus blossom in the spring.
Anything could happen.