The most painful thing
is the disappointment I feel
when I’ve been impatient with my kids,
when I can’t step up,
be the adult
and just keep going.
I get stuck, hung up in my pain.
It blinds me.
It makes me say things I don’t mean,
and then I have to live with myself afterwards.
I’m tired of this feeling,
so tired of the old way of thinking.
I have worked so hard to overcome it,
but it’s so easy to slip into the old habits.
PMS is back, and this is when it’s the worst.
Will this ever change?*
Or am I doomed to be Jekyll and Hyde forever?
*I guess I can look forward to menopause?
This healing is taking so long.
One year later and I’m still angry,
still depressed, still believing sometimes
that I’d rather be dead than go through this.
At other times I’m grateful to be alive.
It feels like an endless roller coaster ride.
Is this how life is supposed to be?
I want stability. I want peace.
And yet…I want change. I want excitement.
Can there be room for all of these?
I’m tired of asking so many questions,
tired of so much unresolved stuff
whizzing around my head.
But isn’t this how I learn?
I dedicate the merit of my sit
to awakening in awareness of my true self
for the benefit of all beings.
Could it be that every one of these
has something to teach me?
Could it be that every single one
of these heartbreaking moments
is part of the plan?
I’m tired. I want to be healed.
Am I just healing the hard way?
And is there any easier way than this?
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.
everything you were meant to
and now the relationship
has run its course.
You can let go now.
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?
A part of me thinks
he’ll come back
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.
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…
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.
When will I feel whole again?
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
But it’s time to forgive.
It really is.
He has moved on.
Some nights he’s gone
Another woman’s bed,
and my head
too many episodes
of grief and drama.
The trauma of such loss
of intimacy and trust
and I’m told to just
as if there were some switch
so I don’t think about
how one time he picked me
to be his lawfully wedded wife,
which I still am.
I found condoms in his bag
after he told me I was crazy,
after he blew me off,
after he said
he wouldn’t talk about this with me.
I told him he couldn’t gaslight me
I’m stronger than that.
Crying, calling him lazy
for giving up,
a coward for doing it this way.
And the felt sense of injustice.
He shows up in the morning
sheepish for one second.
Then slithers around my children
pretending like he cares
after leaving me alone with them
night after night after night.
And I’m supposed
to go along with this?
How could he?