Truth

Forward:
I stopped writing a while ago-- like probably a 18 months ago.  And though I did do updates from Hawaii during Ultraman training, I withdrew from sharing long before that because I was afraid to be honest.  I didn't know how to say what I really felt, publicly, and without being able to speak the truth, I was choking on the lies.  I've continued to write - in my journal, where no one will ever see it, and my handwriting is so terrible that even I probably wouldn't be able to interpret it.  But I keep writing because it's what I do.  It's who I am. 

So the story you're about to read is old news.  Like, really old.  But before I could just jump back on and start writing I needed to address the elephant in the room.  Because only those closest to me have heard it straight from my mouth.  A few others were observant enough to see the change on social media and put two and two together.  Several have asked me directly (thank you!).  Many, many more (I've realized) were unaware.  And I think that speaks to the state of our society more than anything, really.  I mean, how was it not obvious? 

I spent a lot of time last year working with my meditation teacher on speaking my truth.  A lot of what we did complemented the work I did in therapy.  Standing up for myself.  Being honest, but holding space with love and compassion.  Allowing for someone else to respond in their own way, and not shoulder the responsibility for their reaction.  Knowing that my soul's contract with another will be fulfilled in the exact right way, at the exact right time... and sometimes that's painful, and hard, and you just have to breathe through it.  Every day I focus on what I want in life.  And I've watched that expand over the last 18 months-- I have literally created the exact life that I want to live.  Sometimes I feel giddy when I think about it.  I feel ridiculously content.  Anyway... here are some thoughts that I wrote quite some time ago.  It's out there now, and I can get back to writing. 


TRUTH
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A friend, who is a fellow writer and avid reader, reminded me recently about the catharsis of putting pen to paper.  We were discussing the memoir Educated, by Tara Westover, as I had just finished reading it.  There were so many feelings stirred in the reading of this story (this book is insane!  Please, if you haven't already-- go read it!), and when I shared my fear that I wasn't yet ready to put my truth out into the universe, she reiterated that sharing the nitty gritty could help shape or be a stream within a larger story.

Realizing that I may not hit "publish" on this for some time, you may be reading this much later than the events that are taking place.  If you ever read it at all.  The thing about this blog, is that sometimes I hide behind it.  As if it's a diary and not a public document for others to read and judge and have opinions about.  It's only one side of the story.  Mine.  And my truth probably looks different from yours, and his, and theirs.  I have come to appreciate over the last year that there is more than one side to every story.  And even though I cling to mine as truth, it's also skewed by my perception of what happened.  So is that really true?  Or is it just my interpretation of events?  And does it matter?

I am getting divorced.  Again.

There.  I said it.  Out loud.  I don't know why that's so hard.

Maybe because I feel like a failure?  That of my entire family, I am the black sheep?  My parents will be married 50 years next summer.  And my sisters are living the American dream with husbands, and good jobs, and 2.5 kids averaged between the 2 of them.  Are they happy?  I think so.  I hope so.  Do they know what happiness is?  Do I?

And I am me.  Unsatisfied with the staleness that became my existence.  And full of hope and a belief that at age 41, I can have so much more.  That life is too short.  A dreamer.  Impulsive, but calculated.  Careful, yet seeming reckless.  Willing to risk it all for the possibility.

If you know me, there's a good chance that you know my husband.  And I hope that if you know and love us both, that you will continue to do so.  There's love there.  But it isn't enough.  Sometimes when you love something you have to let it go.  And that's exactly what I asked him to do.  Let me go.

He will tell a very different tale.  My story looks like this:

I needed support that he couldn't give me.  So I built a wall instead.  And in place of his support, I created a network of girlfriends that I knew I could count on, who had my back, and who I could call any time day or night.

And then one day, years later, I realized that I wanted a partner who knew me as intimately as my friends knew me.  On an emotional level.  Only despite spending hours upon hours in therapy, we just couldn't get there.  Because my walls were too high, or my faith too little, or my trigger points too raw.  He tried, but I just couldn't connect.  There was too much hurt.  Or too much blame.  Or too much resentment.  And eventually I didn't want to keep trying any more.  I was tired.

So that's how I got here.

And I feel guilty.  Because I am happier than I've been in years.  I feel lighter.  And content.  And though there are moments in the quiet spaces of my thoughts that I crave the company of another human being, I am willing to be that company for myself right now.  I am exploring new things.  Finding out what interests me, and what makes me feel, and what makes me laugh.

I found a beautiful studio apartment that I love.  It's quiet, and has a dozen windows that pour natural light into my space during all waking hours.  I spent all spring with every window and the patio door open 24/7, breathing fresh air and soaking in the healing that my space is providing.  I am spending time in the kitchen allowing my creativity to flow as it once did.  I have no television.  I have a bluetooth speaker with iheart radio, and I have books.  I have my boys who happily talk to me when I engage them in conversation.  I have minimal belongings and in Marie Kondo style, everything has it's place.  I have no need for more "stuff".  And by removing the "stuff" I can begin to see who I really am.

I don't pretend to know what my future holds.  But I know that it will be exactly what I need.  It will be full of beautiful adventures.  And in the writing of this, I realize that my friend was right.  The tears that carry away hurt, and sadness, and fear, are merely tributaries to the river that is my life.  The story will twist and turn, flowing over rocks and boulders.  Life, shaped and changed over time.