Tag: empty

life, love

The Gift of All Gifts

A Graceful Catastrophe

I’m not entirely certain how I feel. How I’m supposed to feel. I suppose the best way to describe it would be rather like the sky appears, shortly after the storm passes. It’s still a bit gray, perhaps with patches of darkness, but you can clearly see the silver lining amongst the clouds. And then, there are those seemingly enchanted areas, where the sun’s rays sneak through a break in the clouds, streaming unbroken all the way to the earth below.

That comes close to putting into words how I feel inside.

The other feeling I get, though, is emptiness. Hollow. There’s a distinct feeling that something is missing.

December is ordinarily my favorite month of the year. This December has been both surprisingly wonderful and disappointingly inadequate.

That, too, seems to describe life, in general, these days.

It’s 1:46 am, Christmas morning. Thankfully, my daughter is older, and will likely sleep in until around 7, and I may even get to take a Christmas day nap later on when she goes to her dad’s house. Sleep teases me tonight. I currently have no desire for it.

There are just far too many conflicting thoughts swirling around for me to find the peace necessary for sleep. For relaxation. Much like the post-storm sky, there are patches of dark and stretches of light, tangled within.

Tonight, while I was wrapping presents, my brother and his girlfriend kept me company and helped me wrap. My brother made a comment about last Christmas, and how my ex and I behaved towards one another. It was not a sweet memory. We were not happy, and it was apparent. At this point, he’d been cheating on me, unbeknownst to me, for at least the previous 7 months, most likely longer. I felt a strain in our marriage, as I had for years. So, I wanted to make Christmas extra special. My gifts to him were thoughtful and had taken months of coordination and behind-the-scenes work.

I was so excited for him to open his gifts. I remember being giddy with the anticipation.

And then I opened my gifts. He’d gotten me a variety of things from my alma mater. Now, don’t get me wrong. I love sporting gear from my alma mater. However, it was obvious that there was little thought that went into my gifts. No care. No love. Just a quick visit to a website and a few clicks later, everything was ordered. It’s funny, how the same type of gift can be received in wildly different ways. You see, I received a gift of a pair of socks representing my alma mater from a wonderful, dear new friend just last week. That gift was thoughtful and makes me smile right now as I recall the care that went into not only choosing the gift, but also in how it was presented to me. Same type of gift, significantly different message.

And here’s why.

My ex and I were together about 11 years. At that point, I’d think he’d understand me at a depth that went beyond gear from my alma mater. That’s simple. Obvious. So obvious that someone who’s known me for less than a month could gift it to me, knowing it’d make me smile.

So that’s it. That was an easy gift for my ex to give. Simple. A no-brainer. You only have to know me at a superficial level in order to know that’d please me. There was no depth to those gifts.

But why should there have been? There was no depth to our relationship. There was no care or concern for it, either. My brother’s remark about his memory from last year made that clear.

Which is why it’s better that it ended. I have an opportunity to have a real relationship. One filled with genuine love. One with depth and authenticity. Commitment. Not only commitment to one another, but to lifting one another up and encouraging growth. Someone who will push me to be the best version of myself, rather than the worst. Someone who understands my drive to be better tomorrow than who I was today. And repeat that. Everyday.

I guess what I’m processing here is that tomorrow (today?) represents so much more than just the gifts. It’s about the thought that goes into them. It’s about knowing someone so well that you know how to touch their hearts through something tangible. Now, I totally blew it with my dad this year. I knew what I was going to get him. My daughter and I had talked about it weeks ago. We ran out of time that day to go get it, so I placed it on my mental checklist. Guess who realized, while wrapping tonight, that just because you think you did something doesn’t actually mean you did it. *facepalm* My dad deserves the world be given to him and I couldn’t even remember to get him this one, tiny little thing. Ugh….

Everyone’s gift (even my dad’s invisible one), was decided upon after much thought. My ex couldn’t give me that gift last year – thoughtfulness. I remember the feeling, too, as I opened the gifts from him. While I was grateful for the gear, I remember feeling hurt that such little time and effort went into the gifts he’d chosen for me. He didn’t know me beyond the superficial. And the evidence was displayed all over the place, and reinforced with each present I unwrapped.

So, overall, this place that I’m in…I know it’s good. I know we weren’t happy. And I truly am grateful for the infidelity. And for the months of deceit. And for each and every single layer of betrayal he gifted me. Everything he was became the catalyst for who I am today.

Today, I not only understand myself better than ever before, I have a different perspective on others. I try to be more compassionate and understanding. I try to be more intentional and present (this one is still so hard for me). I try to be everything I wasn’t in my marriage. Because I am fully aware of what happens when everyone becomes complacent, bitter, and sad. When the only things you choose to see are the challenges and negatives. When your focus lands upon all the ways someone lives under expectation.

While I will never take responsibility for his infidelity, or for him choosing to spend $70 each month on a website dedicated to help married people cheat…or for his role in the demise of our relationship, I do understand my part in all of it.

I will take responsibility for my role in the demise of our relationship. I sucked as a wife. Period. No excuses as to why I sucked. There’s no justification in being a crappy human. And because I now have the privilege of hindsight and self-reflection, I’ll never be her again.

When you know better, you do better.

And every single day that passes, I know better than I did the previous day. There’s no going backwards. There’s no desire to have any sort of relationship with my ex anymore. He is someone who I am forever tied to because of my daughter and at the same time, is just someone I used to know. He doesn’t know who I am anymore. Honestly, though? He stopped knowing me a long time ago. Really, even long before he decided to put more effort into knowing other people’s wives over dinners and bottles of wine than he did into me. Our connection failed years and years ago. And we did nothing, really, to mend it back together.

Perhaps that is what this hollow feeling is? A desire for that connection. To have “my person.” To know, without any type of hesitation, that there will be someone by my side, no matter where life may take us. To have someone choose me in a way I’ve never been chosen before.

You know what’s interesting? I know now that I’m enough. I love myself deeply. I understand exactly who I am and what value I bring to relationships.

I just want someone else to see my value and understand that their life would never be the same without me in it.

Now that would be the gift of all gifts, I think. Because you know what that is? Unconditional love. And that was what I was robbed of the second my ex decided to cheat. His love was conditional, and therefore, empty.

Which has left a piece of me empty.

Now that all my shattered bits have been meticulously pieced back together, the gap that has been left behind is more apparent than ever. I surely do not need anyone outside of my community of friends and family. They fill virtually every bit of my being with love. There’s just one void.

And I’m ready for it to be filled.

So, now I understand how I feel. Christmastime represents love. Joy. Family time. I’m lucky enough to have family and friends. To have my daughter. To have a house that will be filled with love and laughter again tomorrow. And I am ever so grateful for all the things I have. My heart is full. Mostly. But I feel the loss that accompanies the love this year. It almost feels like a spotlight is shining straight into the hole. The awareness of that missing piece highlights the gloom in the sky, overshadowing the silver lining.

So now that it is after 3 in the morning (3:55, to be exact), with awareness and intentionality, I will move the spotlight away from that void. And shine my light on the love that does exist, in abundance, all around me.

Merry Christmas, everyone. May you focus on the beauty and richness that fills your life everyday, but especially today. Love is a gift. Time with those that love us is invaluable. Enjoy this new, precious day, and fill it with radiant, thoughtful, and unconditional love. Even to those, no, especially to those, that have hurt you. Because they probably need it the most today.

life

21 Years

A Graceful Catastrophe

It feels like a lifetime ago, and I suppose in many ways, it was. It feels like it was so long ago that it simply shouldn’t matter anymore.

Yet, it does.

After 21 years of life, a person undergoes an incredibly substantial transformation. A person goes from the rather incomprehensible and mind boggling transition from tiny bundle emerging from the womb to adult human, capable of making such important decisions as, which shot am I going to take as my birthday shot.

21 years is a lifetime.

Last night, in the wee hours of the morning, marked 21 years since an event occurred that fundamentally changed who I was. I thought I was “me” again. I thought that I had mostly healed and returned to the woman I knew I once was, when the light came back on – both literally and figuratively, about 11 years ago.

That is, until last night.

Last night was the first August 1st that I have spent alone since that night in 1998. When that hit me, it kind of shattered me all over again. Last year, the 20th “anniversary,” was difficult in its own way because, while my husband at the time was indeed laying by my side, I felt lonely. I wrote my first blog that night and it felt really good; I felt exceptionally strong, though undeniably lonely, despite his warmth next to me.

This year, I, thankfully, did not feel lonely, as I was texting with a friend that lives out of state. Our conversation brought many smiles to my face and I am so grateful I had that. He has no clue of the gift that his presence and insightful conversation provided me.

But I was still alone.

For the first time, in 21 years, I spent that night all by myself.

I don’t know why that fact affects me so – but it does. I suppose, perhaps, it’s because I didn’t have the option of a shoulder to lean on, someone to hold me, and remind me that I am safe, if I wanted one. And I did want one.

But that’s my job and mine alone now. I remind myself that I am strong. It’s up to me to wrap my arms around myself and tell myself how resilient and fierce I am. I just have to believe it.

Sure, I have friends that do the same, but on a night like last night, I just would’ve appreciated something a bit more. And I no longer have that, because I no longer have my husband. Truth be told, I didn’t have him last year either, but at least then I wasn’t alone.

So if wrapping my own self in love and self-care is now my reality, then I shall embrace it.

I just don’t want to today.

Dealing with the reminder of the date, the event that occurred, compounded with my current reality, makes today one where I’d rather just crawl under a rock.

Luckily, it has been a busy day, and I’ve smiled and done my best to put on my game face while I worked. But make absolutely no mistake about it, my heart has been heavy all day and tears were shed in between clients.

Hell, tears are falling now.

The swirling of pain just seems to get worse. And then, I guess there are moments that are better. It’s an ebb and flow, I get it. Today, though, everything is mashing together in a way that has taken me completely by surprise.

Everything about August 1st has always been heavy. Its weight is barely endurable this year. And the absence of someone to lean on, for someone to hold me and give me the love and respect that I didn’t receive that night, makes today suck a whole lot more than it has in a long time.

I have nothing uplifting today. No words of inspiration to end with. Just the somber reflections of a burdensome past coupled with a really shitty current reality and writing it all down gets it out of my head, at least.

So, thank you for reading. And maybe even for embracing me from afar. And I have to tell you, I am so grateful that August 1st only comes but once a year.

life, love

Basking in the Shit

A Graceful Catastrophe

I’m not entirely sure how many times I cried yesterday but tears were shed here and there for the majority of the day. Insult to injury because I just got my lashes done and you’re not supposed to get them wet for 24 hours. *sigh* It’s 8:35 am and I’ve cried a handful of times already this morning.

Yesterday, the trigger was that my week with my girl was over, she had to go to “daddy’s house.” I have spent virtually every single day of her life with her and now I’m forced to experience 50% of her life now. *cue the rainfall of tears again*

This all just sucks. So bad. My heart hurts for a million different reasons… (Ugh, I can’t see what I’m typing through the blur of my tears.) I still can’t believe this is now my life. In two days it will have been 4 months since finding out about my ex’s infidelity. It’s been 120 days. And I think I feel worse than than I did that catastrophic day – at 6:08 pm, March 17. In fact, I’d say I definitely feel lower now than I have in any of the last 120 days.

But I think I know why it’s worse now. I’m actually feeling now. I’m finally facing it. I was numb, in complete shock at first. I didn’t feel anything. And then I actively escaped for a while, avoiding facing my real life because how in the world is it that this is my real life??? That lasted for a good 2 or 3 months.

And now? My house is empty. My heart is empty. I feel a giant void within. I don’t want to feel that. How can one feel so lonely when surrounded by so much love?

I’m so sick of hurting.

I’m so sick of being triggered randomly.

I still want to run away.

And maybe I will. I mean, I only have my daughter every other week. Perhaps I should run away. I’m thinking a Thanksgiving adventure is a must. July 4 was super challenging. I cried and felt the sting of every second all day long. I can’t imagine how I’m going to feel without my girl that whole week. A week that is supposed to symbolize gratitude and family and love. Yep. I’m out. I’ll need a giant distraction for that one…

Until then, though, I’m here, swimming in the shit that no longer feels like it could be fertilizer (read my blog: Grateful for My Ex for the reference). It just feels heavy and dark and really, really toxic.

On the other hand, at least I’m feeling it. I’m no longer avoiding the pain. I know I have to ride this wave, process these negative emotions. If I keep shoving them aside, I’ll get nowhere but bitter. So as hard as this is, it’s finally time to face my reality. It just might mean that I’m going to have a harder time smiling a genuine smile now – and for a while. And that’s okay. I guess. This is part of the wave, part of the grief. And it sure doesn’t help that these next weeks are some of the worst of the year.

So, if you see me, understand that it feels like someone cut a huge part of me out. I feel vacant and hollow. I feel the enormous weight of this new life pressing upon me as though it were physically there, sitting on my shoulders.

But…I feel it.

And I think that’s progress.

It’s a bizarre place to be, though – feeling. Little things randomly cause such enormous pain. Hearing a husband call his wife, “my girl” with so much love and affection caused a lump to form in my throat and tears fell the second that I could turn away. The sadness feels almost unbearable at times.

Almost.

So, I wrote everything until now this morning, before heading out to work and then getting my hair done. I contemplated not posting it, leaving it as a draft as I have for 7 other blogs I’ve written, because it’s just so dark.

But you know what? So many of us have been here. This place where the sadness is so overwhelming it feels as though you’re drowning and you kind of don’t really mind – you want it to swallow you whole so the hurting can stop.

That’s where I was yesterday and this morning.

That’s not where I am now.

It’s a wave. A constant, fluid drifting of emotions. And I’m feeling them all. This blog is meant to be raw and real and a place for me to process. It also is turning into a place where my words resonate with some of you. So, why filter now?

Yes, I was in a dark place. No, it doesn’t mean I literally wanted to die or take on any direct action to hurt myself. I was just intensely sad.

But I didn’t let it consume me. Sure, I ate some cookies yesterday and went to the bar, solo, for a couple of margaritas (where I became fast friends with an incredible couple, married 29 years!). I also practiced self-care by going to the gym and then (FINALLY) getting my hair colored.

I feel like I’ve got this again. Am I still sad? Of course. Am I drowning in my tears? Nope. I won’t allow these negative emotions to consume me. I refuse to live in the dark place. So, I change my mindset. I focus on the good. I force myself to take direct action that will make my heart happy.

I allow myself to redefine this suck that I’m living in – and embrace it.

And I decide to turn the shit into fertilizer once again. And bask (using Google dictionary’s 2nd definition here: revel in and make the most of) in it. Because I know I am growing leaps and bounds every single day. 

 Even on my weakest days, I get a little bit stronger .
- Sara Evans
life

Eating the Elephant

A Graceful Catastrophe

You know, there just isn’t any guidebook for how to deal with trauma. When you see someone going through something difficult, you sometimes *try to* put yourself in their shoes. Sometimes people make judgments on how the other person is responding or how they would do it differently. Other people seem rather fascinated and can’t even begin to understand how the person is coping “so well.”

In reality, you just don’t know until you go through it – and even then you have no idea how to process life.

For me, I’ve been processing by choosing to escape. I haven’t wanted to face my reality because the rare moments where I couldn’t avoid them were crippling. So I did what I could to bury it further. The pain from the discovery on March 17 has really, quite honestly, been impossible to bear.

But I think it was because I was trying to face it all at once. I thought I had to eat the elephant in one bite, so to speak. I thought I had to look at my pain, all of it, and try to process it as a whole.

That idea was beyond overwhelming. To think that I had to try and understand what was going on inside my head, to sit down and pick apart the betrayal and agony one layer at a time until it had all been chewed up and spit back out, was inconceivable!

But I thought that’s how it was supposed to be done. Just face your fears, right? Why wouldn’t the same idea apply to facing your trauma?

And do you know how absolutely and genuinely terrifying that is? And I mean “terrifying” by its exact definition: “causing extreme fear,” as Google’s dictionary says. “Extreme,” guys. Not just regular, run of the mill fear, but extreme. Again, thank you Google dictionary for defining “extreme” for us: reaching a high or the highest degree.

I had reached the highest degree of fear and was sprinting away as quickly as I could. I was never suicidal, thankfully, but I didn’t want to live this life. I wanted, desperately, to run away. So I could pretend that this wasn’t my reality. How could this be my reality? How could I ever trust again? There are, I’m sorry, were, two men in my life that I blindly trusted. My dad and my now ex-husband. How could he do what he did, day in and day out, for almost a year, all while coming home and complaining about what an awful wife I was? And let’s not forget about how he sat in marriage counseling and complained about how awful I was there, only to turn around and tell his Ashley Madison lovelies all about our therapy sessions.

Yeah, I wanted to run. Far and fast. How could that have been my life?!

At first, I thought I could handle everything with grace. Of course you should give grace to those who least deserve it. Well, that’s all fine and dandy when you’re in the denial stage of grief. There wasn’t a ton of grace to be given during the anger stage! I don’t know if you can see the hashtags on my blogs, but if you can, and you take a look back, there’s a definite moment where I stopped using the hashtag “living life with class and grace and muscles.” Because I was only living life with muscles.

I was angry a lot of the time, which I preferred to sadness. Sadness shut me down. Sadness made me want to hide under the covers and never, ever move again. Anger, though, anger made me feel alive! I could still laugh when I was angry. I could put up a front and live in the moment and feel free of my reality.

But, that’s not exactly the most healthy way to live…

Like I wrote in yesterday’s blog, there’s a distinct shift occurring within. I couldn’t pinpoint it yesterday but I can today.

The last 2 months, while wild and fun, have still felt empty. I have felt so empty and I have been trying, in vain, to fill that void.

But when the wild and crazy calmed down, I was left feeling emptier still. I’ve never done ecstasy or Molly but I feel like my last 2 months resemble what I’ve heard those highs – and lows – are like. From what I understand, when under the influence, you feel euphoric. But then when it starts to wear off, the coming down from it is one of the worst things ever.

That’s how my life has been. I have a blast going out with my friends, or going out on dates, but when it’s all said and done, my reality is that I’m still alone, trying to process a trauma so great that it has been both exhausting and crippling. And simply too excruciating to face.

There has been very minimal light and the darkness definitely won for some time.

But I had the most amazing session with my therapist Thursday of last week and he gave me permission that I don’t have to face my reality all at once. What?! I don’t?! Oh, my goodness, halle-freaking-lujah!!

Do you know that I felt about a million times lighter after that? I can just live. I don’t have to sit down and spend hours – or days – doing nothing else except focusing on sorting out all the emotions! I can walk through life and just live. And when something triggers me, I can feel sad. I can honor that emotion, that moment, process it for what it’s worth, and then move on. I don’t have to linger there and go deeper and try to understand how it applies to the 34 thousand other layers of pain. I can just process that piece. I can eat the elephant one bite at a time.

Life. Changing.

Friday night was like my grand farewell to the last 2 months. It was probably the wildest, most uninhibited night I’ve ever had. And probably the most fun.

Saturday morning I awoke with a distinct shift in my mindset.

I want more.

I don’t want to feel empty anymore. I also don’t feel the need to escape anymore. Now that I know I don’t have to swallow this elephant whole, I am no longer terrified.

Guys. I am no longer terrified of my reality.

I fully understand what this means for me…it means that I can finally begin to heal.

And that makes me smile.

As I write this, it is June 17th. At 6:08 tonight, while I was out with my girls for dinner, I hit the 3 month mark exactly.

It makes me laugh to think it’s only been 3 months. A lifetime has occurred in these last 3 months! And I’m sure I’m in for a million more changes and ups and downs in the next 3 months.

There’s no doubt my mindset will continue to flex and change as the time progresses. If nothing else, I give myself permission to continue riding this wave, to allow it to guide me through this next phase. At least now, I am facing the challenges ahead unafraid.

This elephant will be eaten – eventually. And I’m giving myself permission to do so one nibble at a time.

life

The Phoenix Begins to Rise from her Ashes

A Graceful Catastrophe

I’ve been struggling a lot today. Well, for the last 2 weeks, really, but today especially. The weather is crap and that surely isn’t helping. My gym is closed on Sundays, so I didn’t get to workout, though I think I may go for a run when I’m done writing. Or go have a drink. A run is healthier but a drink sure is yummier! (*Update: I opted for a nap. It was quite lovely.*)

It all just feels so empty. And I feel so sad because of how afraid I am to connect – like, really connect – with someone ever again. The idea of a future like that, while super safe, just feels so lonely. And it’s just that I don’t know how I’d ever trust anyone again. I don’t want to let anyone in; I don’t see how it’s worth it to let my guard down and be vulnerable. But maybe that’s the only way to combat the emptiness…

So, are those my options? Have superficial fun, never get hurt, and feel a bit empty inside? Or let someone in and put myself at risk to feel extreme trauma and pain? Because to me, now, love is synonymous with pain. The two go hand in hand.

They always have. So why wouldn’t it always be that way?

Guys, I can’t ever feel like this again. This anguish and turmoil, this colossal, life and soul altering catastrophe that’s changed everything I once knew…this has to be a once in a lifetime thing, right? But there’s no guarantee to that. This could absolutely happen again. People cheat and lie. They betray. They are selfish and awful. They convince themselves that their awful behavior is justified in some way. And I’m not just talking about my ex. There is a ton of evidence that this is exactly what people do. It’s naive to believe otherwise.

But, one thing at a time, I suppose. There’s not a whole lot that matters past how I’m feeling today, right now. And, again, today sucks. I don’t want to feel like this anymore. I just want it all to stop. Without really realizing it, I’ve buried my pain, for the most part, for the last 84 days. I ignored it and focused on being angry. But it’s getting harder to ignore. And it’s been far more noticeable at home.

My ex ended up getting the house and we told our daughter yesterday that she’d be living in two homes. Her response? “Eh, I knew this was coming.” That was it. She didn’t even care. She literally said, “Eh.” I mean, come on!

And I think I know why. It’s been so toxic in her home for the last 2 weeks that I think this was a welcome relief for her. I hope that it will be a welcome relief for me, too. Though I also think it’s going to force me to face my reality that I’ve been trying so hard to escape. And that scares me. I don’t know that I have the capacity to fully grasp the level of hurt that is in me. The few times that I have allowed this pain to surface – or, more accurately, that I haven’t had the emotional energy to keep it stifled – has been truly debilitating. It’s paralyzing. It makes me want to stay in bed and just shut my eyes to the world. I become this, ugh, I don’t even know how to describe it…but it just feels empty.

I feel empty.

In this moment, it feels as though I’m never going to be able to get past this betrayal. Every time I look at my ex, I see someone who massacred who I was. Right now, in this moment, I feel like his actions have forever changed me and in some ways, that’s a phenomenal thing and in others, it’s just a pretty terrible thing. I know that eventually I will be able to move past what he’s done to me. Time heals all wounds, doesn’t it? I also know that I can’t move past this until I can make sense of it all. And none of this makes sense. This level of pain that I have living in my heart just doesn’t make sense.

So, to be perfectly honest with you, now that I am going to have a significant amount of quiet time, I’m pretty nervous about it. I’m going to be forced to confront exactly what I’ve been trying to bury. I’m going to finally have to process this trauma. And I don’t know that I have the strength within to do so. It just feels like way, way too much. It’s layered and intertwined and invaded my soul. The shattered pieces are far too small to collect, much less put together.

But, as I write these words, I feel a spark within. If I can’t reuse the old pieces to reshape my life, why not mold new ones? I have an opportunity to reinvent bits of myself. I can use this catastrophe to catapult me into a new and wonderful space. One that only existed in my dreams. I can chase down those dreams, unafraid now, because if I fail in my pursuit, it’ll still never feel even close to how I feel today. Tomorrow’s pain from life’s stumbles surely won’t compare to the utter destruction in my soul I have today.

So, perhaps my mindset needs to be that I now know the true “depths of despair” (thank you, dear Anne Shirley) and I can only go up from here.

Huh. I love writing. I literally am crying right now because I genuinely feel hope. I actually can tackle whatever life throws at me. Barring something horrible happening to my daughter (God forbid…), no failure in life would be worse to come back from than my current situation. If I can process this and figure out how to let my pain go, then I honestly feel like I could conquer anything.

I feel like something incredible just happened. I can see the phoenix beginning to rise from her ashes.

Perhaps I will be okay, after all.

It’s all about perspective, right? Today sucks. No doubt about it. And very little could make tomorrow suck worse than today.

So, time to stop wallowing in the suck. I can honor that this sucks. Of course it does. I can give myself grace to feel this pain – no, agony, really.

But I will not give myself permission to let this jade me. I’m making that decision right now. I refuse to let the bitter taste of this betrayal linger on my tongue for much longer.

I may not know what tomorrow holds, but perhaps one day I will believe in fairy tales again.