We went on some wonderful dates.
First date: A twenty-mile bike ride.
Second date: Kayaking on the lake, then sushi,
then yoga on an outdoor covered stage
during a thunderstorm.
Third date: Rock climbing,
swinging in my hammock,
heart full of possibility.
All dates: Amazing conversation,
many points of common interest,
lots of laughter.
We had a fourth date last Thursday.
He kissed me! I was thrilled!
We talked about moving forward with each other.
I felt myself falling in love!
We made plans for Monday.
Saturday came and there was no word from him.
It was hard for me to enjoy the 4th of July
because I felt so much angst and uncertainty.
Sunday came and there was no word from him.
It was hard for me to enjoy the 5th of July
because I felt so much sadness and confusion.
Monday came and there was no word from him.
It was hard for me to enjoy the 6th of July
because I felt so much heartbreak and devastation.
👻👻👻👻He ghosted me.👻👻👻👻
With the ghostly memories of our wonderful dates
moaning and wailing in my ears,
I kept asking, Why? Why?
What did I do wrong?
Heart broken, sad,
ashamed that I had let my guard down
and shown a man my heart
after three long years of…
I reached out to make sure he was safe.
He said, Can we be friends?
I began to feel angry at life, angry at God,
angry at myself for risking being hurt again.
I wanted to crawl under a rock
and go back to living like a nun.
My friend and my sister said,
Just get back on those dating sites
and see what happens.
I have a first date scheduled for Friday:
I have a first date scheduled for Saturday:
I have a first date scheduled for Sunday:
Kayaking Big Gunpowder Falls.
Wish me luck.
I can hear it even now,
the voice in my head
saying everything I do is wrong,
nothing I do is right.
It’s an old voice,
an anxious voice.
It’s the meaning I made
when as a child
my broken heart sought reasons
for not receiving the love,
I wanted and deserved.
But there is no blame.
There is this moment
and a brief space of clarity
where I can remember…
If I can hear the voice
and I can repeat what it is saying
then the voice isn’t me…
It’s just a habit. It’s an echo of the past.
My intellect can articulate this clearly,
but my body needs time to catch up.
It feels sad and mopey and droopy today,
like everything is wrong
and nothing is right.
How can I bring the clarity of my intellect
to bear on the traumatized inner child
who waits and waits and waits
for it all to be over,
that she is the one who is causing all the torment?
Healing isn’t linear and instantaenous…
and it takes time.
Now if only I could relax into the process
of awakening and remembering
the truth about myself…
If only I could land in a place
where these painful thoughts
no longer determine the color of my days…
That would be a miracle.
Suddenly, normal was gone.
My First Response: YOGA!
I told everyone how to be yogic about this,
how to breathe, take it one day at a time, be grateful,
how to stay in the present moment,
how to be in one’s body, feeling,
loving the ones we’re at home with,
delighting in nature, the rhythms of the day.
Then my kids went back to their dad
and I found myself alone.
My Second Response: NOOOOOOOOOOO!
I wish I hadn’t watched all those episodes of The Walking Dead.
I wish I had known a Pandemic was coming.
I wish I had decluttered my house first.
I wish I had met my soulmate before the Pandemic,
so that we could be inside, together,
sitting by a sweet fire, enjoying a Quaran-tini.
I wish I had been well-established in my dreamhouse
and my dream work and my dream life
before the Pandemic,
I wish I had been so busy being successful
that I would actually need a vacation
and all this social distancing now.
Alas, all I can do is look back and say
Lorien, you were barely scraping by.
You were tired all the time.
You didn’t have time to do anything except work and mother.
Maybe it’s ok to be alone on my birthday during a pandemic.
Maybe I’ll celebrate this breath. This life.
This being here regardless of what anyone else thinks.
When you’ve gotten in the habit
of being unhappy
it might take a minute to figure out
how to be happy again.
But happiness is a habit,
just like unhappiness.
Habits are formed bit by bit,
day by day…
Choose to be happy
for just a second longer today
than you were yesterday
and you are headed in the right direction.
I feel lost, alone, directionless, uncomfortable.
What is my purpose?
It says: You have no purpose.
But why I am I alive?
It says: There is no reason. You should end it.
But what about my children?
It says: They’d be better off without you.
And my yoga students?
It says: You’ve been lying to them all along.
It’s time they knew the truth.
But surely this will one day get better?
It says: Not for you. You will never be happy.
But what about nature? The sun? The forest?
The cycles of life?
It says: What about them? You’re still depressed.
You’ll always be depressed. Face it. End it.
But I can’t do that to them. To my friends. My family.
It says: Why not? They don’t care. Not really.
Not enough to help you or save you.
I know there are other voices in my head.
Why is It the loudest?
I taught all my yoga classes
(seven in three days)
and I am exhausted.
I had dinner in Westminster
with my cousin and her family,
gave my father a card and a hug.
Back home the loneliness sets in.
My kids are with their dad and his girlfriend,
and I keep seeing
families playing together,
wondering how my life got to this,
where I’m working myself to exhaustion
just to make ends meet,
homeless in less than a month,
angry at the injustice,
lonely without my kids.
I want this to change.
I am willing to change.
But I need help to see beyond my pain.
I’ve been working my @ss off,
trying to boost my finances
for what will come.
I’m tired, overhwhelmed,
my body aches, my mind is fuzzy,
and I’m flooded with a sense of futility.
And it hits me…
I’m doing what my
grandmothers and grandfathers did…
I am struggling just to get by.
I thought when I married him
I’d be taken care of.
I’d raise our children
and take care of the house
and he would take care of us.
But that dream was shattered
in an ugly, unkind way.
How can my faith in life be restored?
My family struggled through
the Great Depression.
And countless ancestors before them
struggled through poverty, famine,
sickness, and endless toil…
and through it all…
they somehow survived to procreate.
And so I was given a chance at life.
Sometimes I wish I hadn’t been given this chance.
If I had known I would end up here,
wondering where I’ll live
and if I’ll have the mental fortitude to keep going,
I’m not sure I would’ve signed on.
What’s the point of living
when you’re struggling just to get by?
And I’m being asked to take on
and even greater challenge…
be strong for my progeny,
give them a reason to keep going,
pretend through it all
that I’m good at this,
that I like this,
that this is all ok.
Hats off to all the single moms out there
who managed to pull this off…
you deserve an award for your performance.
But frankly I resent being here.
I resent the weight of this burden.*
*I just want to acknowledge that in comparison to many, many people on this planet I am doing quite well. I currently have food, clothing, shelter (for now) and access to resources that could be of help. I recognize that all my whining and moaning and complaining about my situation here might elicit absolutely no sympathy at all from people who have been through far worse. I’m just sharing how I feel. I don’t expect that my feelings make sense to anyone. I’m just sitting in the middle of my own suffering wishing I could get away from it. Maybe one person out there knows this feeling. Maybe one person out there now knows that they aren’t alone.
A deep and pervading sense of futility strikes.
Why keep struggling?
You’ve been fighting for two years.
Where has it gotten you?
All this hard work…
what has it amounted to?
People say they wish they could help,
but there is no follow through.
I’m learning that I would rather people say, “Gosh, that sucks. I’m sorry” rather than “I can help.” Public service announcement: Do not offer to help a single mother on the verge of eviction and then realize later that there is nothing you can do to help her.
Afraid for what awaits
in the emptiness
of my once shared space.
Grieving still what was…
wondering when I’ll be set free
from this self-imposed prison.
What do I need to do to let go
all the way?
The way this works,
if there is one shred of holding on,
the whole thing takes root again
and grows stronger than ever before.
I need grace
to help me let go all the way.
I want to hear the Inner Voice say,
And now here is where you pick yourself up,
dust yourself off, and enjoy financial stability
offering your gifts to the world
in a life-affirming way that positively impacts
you and at least the next seven generations.
I want to hear the Voice say,
And here is where your heart is healed
and you attract a partner into your life
who loves you from head to toe and wants to co-evolve
with you as an offering to all beings.
I want to hear the Voice say,
And now this is where you move into your dream home
in the mountain forest of the Pacific Northwest
and enjoy hours and hours of gazing at the mountains
From the comfort of your couch, while knitting and sipping tea.
And this too:
Now comes the part where you travel the world
Offering your teachings to beings who will benefit from them,
Exposing your children to different languages and cultures,
Broadening their horizons and showing them how to expand
their awareness into the realm of infinite possibility.
How long will it take for the voice to say this is in truth?
Because right now it’s saying to me,
Yes, this is all nice, but until it happens,
you’re deluding yourself,
and you know how you treat yourself
when you’re operating from delusion…