Still Waiting…..

Waiting-

Maybe I’m just tired tonight. It’s getting late for me, because I’m up so early. Maybe it’s because I was alone all day.

But I’m sad. Just, sad. I miss him, and I don’t. I remember how I loved him and I don’t anymore, but I miss loving him. I used to be able to call his name in my head, and I’d hear from him. I don’t now. I think about calling him that way, and then every version of the conversation that could possibly take place runs through my head and it’s never good, it never serves any purpose except to re-open old wounds.

I wish I could just let go. I wish I had no connection to him except the 18 months that I knew him. I wish I never knew what he felt, and I wish I had never called his name and had him answer. I wish he’d never said to me, “if something happened to you, I’d know. I’d just know.” Because if that’s true, he knows right now how my heart aches. And I believe it’s true, that he knows. Because I know when his does.

Right now, I know he doesn’t blame me, he doesn’t hate me. But he never wants to talk to me again, because it reminds him of how utterly stupid and self-absorbed and self-centered he is. And what he lost because of it. He knows he cannot hide from me, because he knows that my soul and his recognize each other over the lifetimes, even if he says, “We can’t know that…” Instead of me reminding him of the light that shines somewhere under all those layers of darkness that he hides under, I remind him of how he put his own interests ahead of everyone, and ended up with nothing and no one. A barren landscape that once held so much promise.  I never wanted to bring him shame. 

Why do I even care? I am strong, independent. I have created my life so that I can live it out the way I want to, and don’t need anyone. But I wanted him, I think that has gone on for a very long time. I knew this when we met, I knew that I already knew him.

I read a couple of old blogs from the 3 days over which the truth became known in November. I don’t know why I read them, maybe I was just trying to keep the memory of my disgust, my amazement at the depth of what he did, alive so I wouldn’t miss him, so I’d see how utterly without conscience he was.

I remembered all of that, but then I also remembered when I loved him. I also remembered when the end started, and I also remembered how I kept asking him to just let me go. I remembered how it unraveled slowly all summer and then he let it build back up, he pretended we were going to be together in the way I’d dreamed of for months. He let my emotions crescendo, maybe because he wanted to feel how much I loved him just one last time, just before he destroyed me.  It’s hard for me to imagine that he didn’t purposefully cause me all that pain.

I found this poem I wrote one week after I last talked to him, the day that she got my letter and I told him he was dead to me.  I’m going to put it here again, because I think it’s pertinent to the way I feel tonight. It’s called “Awaiting Transformation”

Day dawns,

First light glows the horizon

Soft pink

Where heaven meets earth.

The sky still indigo directly above,

With one solitary star still visible

On this cold clear November morning.

The trees are bare,

The earth in New England settles down

For a long winter nap.

All of the the past year’s leaves and flowers

Lay on the ground

Ready to begin their transformation.

We mourn their passing,

Yet

At the same time

We know at the first breath of spring

They will arise to become

something once again beautiful.

I will rest with them

Let my heart

Heal in the warm unconditional love

of the universe

All the pieces I have so carefully put back together,

And the ones I have not found yet,

Will meld together again,

Become whole once more.

I will leave the old hurts in the ground with the leaves

Covered in the blankets of snow

Knowing that the spring will come.

Awaiting transformation.

 

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Where The Light Enters

The wound is the place where the light enters you ~ Rumi #quote #wisewords drawn into a Moleskine Notebook:

Yes, well, Rumi.   It certainly is.  When we are wounded so deeply, we have to search deep in order to rediscover our value.  Rejection, wounding, shake our foundations, don’t they?  We have to look deep, and somehow let that light in so we know, once again, we have value just because we exist.

We cannot find our value externally. tt exists within us, always.  Through this lifetime from the moment we are born, and into the next one, if you adhere to that school of thought.  The question is, how do we want to live this life, this one precious life? Searching for the validation that already exists within, that we are connected to the one great thing, looking for someone else to tell us we belong?  Or…do we want to take the beautiful soul that is each of ours and find another soul who can join us in a journey to go deeper, higher, more joyfully?

The light enters the wound, because we all make the wrong choice at some point. Or at least most of us.  I think this life is meant to evolve our souls, and there is no growth without pain.  We were meant to make the mistakes, we were meant to live through them, we were meant to learn from them.  Then, the light enters the wounds, illuminates the lessons, and makes us glow.

I think there are people that cross our paths that can see us glow.  I also think there are people who cross our paths that cannot see it.  Just because someone can’t see it, doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist.  It means that their state of consciousness doesn’t let them yet see it.  I think when the light enters our wounds, we are bound to spread that light to others whose darkness doesn’t let them yet shine.

I feel like the light has entered my wounds, it is fast at work making parts of me glow that I thought had died.  I find that I have some attachment to the wounds, that they remind me how I loved, and loved loving.  But the light says, you can love again, and it won’t leave these wounds.

I saw a crack in the one who wounded me the other day, I saw the armor not completely sealing him.  I hope he lets the light in, I hope he finds a life that can bring him joy for the rest of his years on this earth. I hope he doesn’t waste this one precious life, settling for what is easy.  I hope he finds a life worth working passionately for.  I hope the light can enter his old, and deep wounds and let his self worth begin to glow.  It would make me happy to see that transformation.  It would also bring meaning and purpose beyond the lessons I already have learned, if those things rippled out to him and others.

I got the nicest comment on a blog this morning, where someone thanked me for being a blog that constantly inspired them.  This is really one of the main purposes of blogging for me, to share the lessons and let the light shine that was given to me. It was wonderful to wake up to read that, and know that my words helped someone else.  I hope the light that wrote those words that helped that person shines on everyone, even him.  Maybe, especially him.

Hurt people hurt people.  I have done it, hurt others, even him, when I have been hurt.  But now, I want to shine the light, whatever light I have, be it just one candle or a floodlight, on others.  I don’t want to hurt anyone again, if I can help it. And I can.

Let the light in.  More wounds, maybe mean more light can get in.  Maybe our souls and hearts can be mended like the Japanese custom, with gold, so that they have even more value than before they were wounded.  Let your wounds glow, and let us all light the world.

Truth, Wounds, Scars

I’m at work now, using my computer there.  This will have to be quick, lol.

I was hoping that the blog I had written but not finished might have been saved by WP, because sometimes when i have inadvertently lost it by flipping a page or some other weird malfunction of cyberspace, it shows back up in the form of a message that I had a blog started, do I want to restore it.

But no, of course not, this time.

I wrote that A has been backing off since I told him not to come.  While he was ok on Tuesday after I told him, yesterday I barely heard from him, though at night I did get my normal “Goodnight sweetie” with some hearts.  I know he is having to face the fact that there is no future for us, and I won’t press him, I’ll just be here when and if he wants to talk about it.  I did hear from him this morning a bit…but not as much as usual, and with much less emotion.  It’s all good.  I couldn’t have led him on, who can live with that kind of stress.  If I don’t feel it I can’t do it.  Simple.

Much better not to lead him down a path to believe there’s something there, as happened to me with S.  No devastation.  Hard truth, but the pain is so much easier to bear, when the truth is known up front.

I realized too, that what has hurt me the most about the unknown FB account, was not just the lies and deception about having it at all, and realizing that he has been in contact with BB for a long time, but just as much if not more, because I realized that there are people that he lets into his life fully, that knew about and could comment on his FB page.  Here was the pic of his friend, and BB could comment on it, and I was the one who ran to his side when his friend died, and was excluded.  I was always excluded, it was always a problem for me, not to know anyone, to be his secret. When he got a phone call and I was in the car he might say I’m not alone, he never said, I’m here with Deb.  Because no one knew about me.

Just opened another wound up a little.  It’s probably why I’ve been hurting all week.  To love someone so much and have it shoved in my face, again, that I was just on the periphery of their life.  Never to mean really anything.

So, I am healing, once again.  I have a gong bath tonight, and some events this weekend that will help.  One of these days all the wounds will be healed, scarred over enough that they can’t be reopened.

Still rising…..

The Healiing Time

A dear friend had this poem on her Facebook page.  It resonated with me in a profound way, and I share it with you.

The Healing Time

Finally on my way to yes
I bump into
all the places
where I said no
to my life
all the untended wounds
the red and purple scars
those hieroglyphs of pain
carved into my skin, my bones,
those coded messages
that send me down
the wrong street
again and again
where I find them
the old wounds
the old misdirections
and I lift them
one by one
close to my heart
and I say
Holy Holy.

-Pesha Gertler

Even Though

My world this morning is unsettled

Yet again.

Dark gray clouds race through the early morning sky,

And a wind from the sea, 30 miles away,

Blowing, fiercely,

Bending trees.

Bending me.

A voice called to me

speaking silently

Asking me for just a small slice of my soul.

It would have been so easy

to acquiesce, to agree.

To pretend, again.

Oh I am so good at pretending

At making up stories

That what isn’t, is.

This time I said, no…..

You can’t have that slice.

Because it will leave a wound

When you are gone.

My heart lately, is tender.

It is covered with small wounds healing.

Wounds inflicted by me

Pretending, for you.

I can’t inflict another.

Even though I love you with all my heart.

Out of the Fog

  

My struggle seems to have taken a time-out this morning.

I went to a gong bath last night.  My hour long (or slightly longer) meditation spent in darkness, laying on the floor, blanket pulled up, and mask over my eyes, while 8 gongs vibrated, and crystal bowls sang, and drums beat and bells chimed in a wondrous cacophony of healing.  I set an intention last night going in.  It was to send love to all those in my life, love without strings, just send it to the universe and let the universe decide how to bring it to them.  I sent it to S, to my ex husband, to my son, to my friends.  To my mother, my sisters.  I visualized the pink energy threads spreading out from me, touching these people.

When the tsunami’s came (the tsunami is our name for when the gongs are played with such intensity that the vibrations wash over you like a tsunami, and you cannot hold a thought, whatever needs to bubble up for release is compelled then, there is no escape as the vibration of 8 gongs being wailed on reaches your very cellular level and finds what needs healing and opens the door) I sobbed.  For what, I didn’t know, but release is always good, and probably, at the gong bath, more common than not.

I had gone with a friend.  It’s nice to have a friend with me, I usually do, but last night I wished I was driving home alone, too many emotions, and none were coherent enough to put into words.  So, I let her talk, she is addicted to her phone, and I let her tell me all the funny memes that she was reading as I drove back to where we’d left her car.  (“I put $1 in an envelope every time my wife and I have sex, and what’s in there is all I’m spending on her for Christmas.  So far she’s getting a cup of coffee.”)  The time passed amicably.

Then I got stuck in traffic.  They are doing major major highway reconstruction at night, and it held me up a good half hour.  The emotions which the gongs shook to the surface began to appear, like a wound that won’t close.  I longed once more for what never would be, I couldn’t find a pathway between what I know I can accept and what I want more than anything.  I felt like all those pink threads that I sent out were pulling on me, painfully, 100 little threads pulling my heart apart. Struggle.

I sent out a text, to which there was no response.  Understandably, but still, painfully silent.

When I got home, late, because of the traffic, I wept as I wrote “Only You”.  More release.

I climbed into bed, and tried to read.  My book club is reading “The Sacred Year” by Michael Yankovich.  I wasn’t crazy about it at first, but I like it more and more as I read.  His year becomes a deeper and deeper search into his soul.  Finally, I shut the light out, it was late, I was exhausted.  But the struggle seems to like that time, when I am tired and it’s late, to make me think about it.

I have been trying to wean myself off of the Ambien to sleep.  Started with the carpal tunnel, because it helped me sleep through a lot of the pain.  Last weekend I made it through a night without it.  But not since.  I tried last night, but lay there, with a knot in my heart and the pit of my stomach, and finally got out of bed and took one more, so I wouldn’t be up all night, struggling.

I was thinking then, that I might ask for something today, that would probably not serve me well, except it would stop the pain, for a little while.  Not having any resolution but thanks to the Ambien, I fell soundly asleep for 6 hours.

This morning, it seems, the gongs work becomes evident.  What bubbled up last night, what was pulled out of me at the very cellular level, needed to come up, and I  needed to release it.  While I still feel the struggle, it is not so fresh, not like a new wound again.  More like one that is healing, a wound that brings bittersweet memories with it, but is healing, not bleeding anymore.

And really, who knows which wound causes the struggle?  There are many, we all have many.  I have chosen one, it seems, at which to direct my emotions.  I think, really, the struggle is multi-faceted, and not completely caused by present moment events.

I was surprised to walk out on my deck at 6 AM this morning and find the world shrouded in fog.  As if some greater power knew I needed this time alone, no distractions of bright golden sunrises, or even morning stars.  I know they are there, I know I will see them again, but I needed to focus on this this morning .

It is good to regain my focus, and to think I can move forward in letting go of things that have not served me, even if I love them.  I will always love them.  And that’s a good thing.  To love without attachment.  I’m trying, anyway.