Epiphany

Just got back from a run. No longer running with headphones listening to music, I listen to the sound of my breath, my sneakers hitting the ground, and the vibrations of my thoughts. Suddenly during this run, it hit me. My ex-husband is a version of my mother. Their personalities are plagued with anger and manipulation. I suppose there was no irony in the fact that during the time of my separation I was also creating distance with my mom. ┬áThe need to free myself of this world I had lived in my whole life was great. It all makes sense. It makes sense that I do not want my sons’ worlds to be contaminated with these harsh emotions. Although it is a reality, a space needed to be created to allow for a healthier life. For all. I had been continuing a life when I got married that I had lived as a child. And as a result, providing that life to my children. No longer. They deserve better. And I think I do too.

It’s all coming together. Piece by piece.

5 days…

It’s been 5 whole days since court. I’ve woken in the middle of the night in that ignorant state of unknowingness….to then be slapped with reality. Finding myself blocking emotion though – as a means of self-protection? Is this good? Bad?

Walking in the supermarket the day of, was a gentle reminder “you never know what someone is going through, what kind of day he/she is having.” I found myself wanting to painfully scream “I just got divorced!”

Blocking out all in the courtroom except for my lawyer and the judge when addressed, I slowly narrowed my vision; otherwise I would have completely broke down. The stenographer sat right in front of me, so close he could have held my hand. Looking at me, I thought he was making eye contact, offering a silent “I’m sorry,” but I quickly realized he was only concentrating on what he was typing – he wasn’t looking at me as so much as through me. Typing words that I declared, words that would officially end my marriage.

Vulnerable in front of strangers who now heard my age, my children’s birth dates, our wedding date, and witnessed my sobs. Sterile. Cold. All so opposite from the day nearly eighteen years ago when we promised to be forever. The judge read the final comments as a script, stating “I wish you both luck.” Hardly sincere, just meaningless commentary.

And then we left. My lawyer hugged me and started to cry herself as my now ex-husband stated “I’ll let you both talk.” He offered no hug. Maybe it was me – my obvious avoidance of looking straight at him. He even asked “why are you crying?” A sign of being unattached, so far removed. Despite knowing me for over twenty years, he somehow didn’t or maybe couldn’t ever know me.

Tomorrow marks the first full week of the rest of my life.

So very scared.

Slipping

Sliding. Trying to hold on. So, so tired. And a quote from yoga “we inherit the results of our actions.”

 

The Vietnamese Monk Thich Nhat Hahn’s version of the Buddha’s teachings of the Five Rememberances:

I am of the nature to grow old. There is no way to escape growing old.

I am of the nature to have ill health. There is no way to escape ill health.

I am of the nature to die. There is no way to escape death.

All that is dear to me and everyone I love are of the nature to change. There is no way to escape being separated from them.

My actions are my only true belongings. I cannot escape the consequences of my actions. My actions are the ground upon which I stand.

 

Sometimes, it is hard to stand in reality. Sometimes it is so much easier to hide, to pretend, to ignore, to lessen, to distract, to be completely not present. And as much as this is not what is best, it is where I currently exist. The walls are squeezing in from all sides. Does anyone know how to find me?

Reality

I have found myself wondering what exactly is my reality at this point in time. As I still seem to linger in this middle space, I yearn for a true reality. One that meshes my inside with my outside. I was asked in a survey recently if I was happy. I had to rate my happiness on a scale from 1 to 10. And I found myself feeling happy. When posed with that simple question, I discovered that yes I was happy. At the end of the day, I am happy. Amidst any pain, physical or emotional or psychological, any sorrow, I still find I am happy beneath it all. And yet I still seek a life that is grounded in a reality I day dream about. At times, I admit I become a bit impatient as a result. I am a dreamer. But when will my dreams match my reality?