Almost.
There's space for gratitude here, because there is something to be said for the ever-lengthening blocks of time in between my rough days. The stretches are, for the most part, getting longer and sweeter as time goes on. For that, I'm very grateful. But then grief sneaks up, sometimes seemingly out of nowhere, and gets the better of me.
I'm finding it difficult to move forward while still juggling varying degrees of grief and loss and anger and pain; especially when forward motion is all anyone else sees anymore. What I'm still working through and processing has become past tense to the people in my periphery, which makes sense. The truth is that I'm okay. Very okay. But that doesn't change the fact that the being okay and the moving on were not things I ever anticipated having to do. The reality is still that I never wanted any of this.
There are a lot of external expectations when you get divorced. There are additional expectations when you get divorced for the reasons that I did. It's as though I'm expected to have nothing short of a "f*ck him" attitude at all times. Once those papers are signed and sealed, it's supposed to be full speed ahead in any direction that is away from him. No looking back. Even a glance over my shoulder is enough to make the people who love me squirm.
Again: I didn't ask for this. I've got 9 years worth of letting go to do here.
It's not easy.
Sometimes I feel things that I don't even allow myself to assign words or give conscious attention to because it seems wrong to feel them. I feel things that don't make sense given my circumstances; I miss things I don't want to miss. It's hard and confusing, and you don't get it unless you get it.
Sometimes it's hard to just let true things be true; but I'm in the business of breaking all the way open. Today in therapy, I finally spoke aloud the things I've been most afraid to feel. There is so much power in simply saying what's true and in naming hard feelings and emotions. It felt like finally releasing the breath I'd been holding for months and opening my heart as wide as it can go. And where there is mostly pain and grief, there is also freedom in giving myself permission to feel it all and let it be what it is. Because I am vast and turbulent I refuse to limit myself by trying to be less so. I'm an ocean learning my tides.
Today, I filled the last page of the journal I took to hell and back. It feels like a milestone. This journal is probably about 60% curse words, and I've chucked it at the wall more times than I can count; but I discovered and rebuilt myself on these pages. Even on the rough days, I can see a fairy tale beneath the horror story.
Life is weird and hard.
Even so, it's a beautiful day.
