Tag Archives: pain

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.

When Will I Feel Whole?

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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…
Tired, undernourished,
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.
I wonder…
When will I feel whole again?

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.

How Could He?

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He has moved on.
Some nights he’s gone
all night.
Another woman’s bed,
and my head
explodes,
too many episodes
of grief and drama.
The trauma of such loss
of intimacy and trust
and I’m told to just
move on,
as if there were some switch
to flick
so I don’t think about
how one time he picked me
to be his lawfully wedded wife,
which I still am.
Grief.
Rage.
Resentment.
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
any longer;
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?

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.