A Grief Remembered

I was just reading some old writings of mine and decided it was time to post this one.  At the time, it just felt too vulnerable to put it on a blog.  Now I have the grace of hindsight and know what I could have not known then.

This was the last of my grieving for the end of my marriage.  Something just shifted after that.  It happened suddenly, like how the winds change.  No circumstances changed.  I was just done.

And by July of 2011 I was madly in love with a wonderful man.

He was a friend who became my best friend. I noticed him because of his character.  Then fell "in like" with him because we had so much in common, we could talk for hours and he made me laugh.  Then I realized he was... "the last person I want to talk to before I go to sleep at night" (When Harry Met Sally movie reference here).  That's when I knew he became my best friend.

Then he pursued me, swept me off my feet.   And I couldn't help but fall in love with him.

We eloped on October 12 of that same year..."because when you realize you want to spend the rest of your life with somebody, you want the rest of your life to start as soon as possible." (Second quote from When Harry Met Sally)

It's amazing how life can change in an instant.

We've been married now over a year and I'm continuously amazed at how much joy I experience on a daily basis. 

The Bible says that "I will turn their mourning into gladness; I will give them comfort and joy instead of sorrow."    Jeremiah 31:13

Wow.   

I hope this encourages someone, somewhere.   At the end of something; there really is always a beginning of something else.
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When will the grieving end?                                                                       January 18, 2011

I am a lovely, talented, intelligent, professional mother of two.  And I'm still, after 4 years, grieving the end of my 16 year marriage.

 It's only been a year and a half since the divorce but I thought I'd be fine by now.  Seriously. I have great friends, a counselor I can call if needed, I have read the books, and I know how to grieve.

 But I'm so tired of it.

 I want to enjoy this time of my life.  My kids are doing great, I have a beautiful townhome, a job that I love...

But I can't seem to have more than a week or two of peace and joy at one time.

 My head says this is all normal.  My head knows that I gave myself wholeheartedly to my marriage, to my husband.  And that I love deeply and therefore it may take time.  Blablabla

 My heart hurts.  Not for him.  No, that's been gone a long time.  My heart just feels sick of waiting, sick of hoping, and sick of feeling like I'm on my own.

 Yes, I know, I'm not really alone.  I know (again, with my head) that there is, in fact,  a God and He loves me, even likes me.  But I feel nothing.  Mostly just bored.  I can't read like I used to, I have way too much time on my hands, or not enough and want everyone to go away.  I can spend a great time with a friend or two and have fun and even laugh...a lot.  But the minute I'm alone it's there again.  Crushing silence, the void.  Like the world is just empty and here I am. 

 

Alone.

 

What I would have given for just a moment of feeling lonely when the kids were little and I was home fulltime for all those years.  Naptime and bedtime was exquisite.  I would put on soft music, candles and just relax and soak in a bubble bath until I was wrinkled beyond recognition...

 

I loved being alone.

And even now, I can have dinner alone, fly on an airplane alone, go to the mall alone.  And it doesn't bother me at all.

 But  still, there comes the dark nights, creeping up on me when I least expect it.  And then I know.

It's back.  The pain. The numbness.  The complete boredom. And no matter what I do, it won't just go away.  I mean, I can't make it go away. 

 But it will.  It will go away.  I wish saying that it will go away would feel like hope.  But it doesn't.

It will just be gone one day.  It's happened several times.  And I feel like myself again.  Clearheaded.  Optimistic.  Hopeful. Brave.

 

But not today. 

 

Today I'm scared. And little. And the debt is bothering me and I feel fat, and every ounce of the 20 pounds I gained, from the lattes and chocolate I have used to manage the stress, feels uncomfortable and foreign.

 And I know that everyone in the house is happier than me.

 

And that's just downright frightening because I live with a teenaged, drama-queen daughter with wicked PMS.