To Own My Understanding

Inner-work has taken a back seat to the outer work of packing, moving and cleaning out our house.  Today we meet with our land-peeps  and we will be done with that chapter of this separation.  Through this process, we have worn ourselves down to a nub with exhaustion and our emotions become raw and edgy.  I get pushed up against the idea of having to go and I become clingy.  Yes, I am grieving a lot of things here, but I get tired and use that grief to hide behind and as an excuse to wallow in feelings of rejection, fear, and worthlessness.  I let anger in where it has no business, because I am not angry.

When I stop and check myself, I don’t have any feelings of anger.  What began as a horrible ending between Scott and me has been healed some.  We are owning up to our responsibilities and we are forgiving each other for many things.  That forgiveness feels lovely.  There is a lightness and joy in each of us that we haven’t had in a while.  We can talk to each other, we can be playful, and we can carefully point out to one another hurtful words and actions.  Sometimes it is easy.  Sometimes it is like tip-toeing through a bramble.  It is working.  Still, neither of us believe we are going to fix this without some space, and still the separation looms.

I use the word “looms” because that is where my feelings are on this.  Friday seems to me like this horrible sadness-monster that is going to swallow me and never let me out.  Just typing this leaves me teary with dread and my stomach churning.  Right now I want to lash out and say awful things, anything to not be the only person that feels this low.  Luckily, I’m the only person home right now and I can take some time to turn this around.

The question here is how can I turn this leaving, this husband and children nowhere in sight into an expression of love and contentment?  How do I bring the feelings of forward movement and healing and creation that I feel in the back of my mind up front?  First, I think I need to address the idea that these are ok feelings to have.  The dumb little social construct monkeys in my head say that a mom who leaves is the real monster, that I am just the rejected wife and the only valid feelings to have are shame and guilt and the desire to be swallowed up by the ground.  Those monkeys have got to go.

Here’s a scenario from my morning.  I was cutting up the rest of a watermelon into little chunks for Scott to grab whenever he likes.  It’s one of the little things I love doing for him and will greatly miss doing.  At that moment, one of those dumb-monkeys popped up and tried to make my reverie into a grief-fest and a wallow-wallow-pity-party, except that I was able to look at that moment critically and think clearly this time.  I thought, “Hmmm, while I am away, the little things I do for myself will be my expressions of love for my family.  Every moment of interior work, every step toward my goal of independence, every gracefully met failure will be lovingly crafted for myself, but also in creation of a healthy family dynamic and a happy mom.  They are gifts of love.”

That thought turned the whole moment on its ear.  Instead of self-pity, I felt a little sadness that was warmed by love and contentment.  I feel positive about what I am doing.  I don’t want to use the term affirmation, but that’s what just happened and my goal now is to build on it so that when I do get into the car, I am acting positively and driving toward something new and good.

Surreal. Life.

Shopping for a home I feel like a guest in.

Moving my things into an apartment I’ll never live in.

Getting along better than ever with a guy I don’t get to live with.

Looking forward to a break I’d give up in a heart beat.

Time is such a hornets nest for me right now.

I ship out on July 2nd.  That’s less than two weeks away.  There is excitement around the new apartment and it will be good to be done packing and to be over this last work week, but once there I’ll be clawing to get back this time.

I have to be present.  I have to live this now.  Once the family is moved and once my car is loaded, that is it.  We clean the house and turn in the keys and poof.  I’ll be sleeping with a whole lot of memories.  It’s like inviting someone to carve out my guts while I sit here smiling.

The only way I keep it together is by focusing on what we are all moving toward: strength, wholeness, a real future.  We are building something, Scott and I.  We just have to be on different sites.

Speaking of different sites, once I am on the road on the 2nd, this becomes a real separation.  I’ll be trying to keep an open account of it on a page I’ll call Maybe a Year.  More on that to come.  Today I’ll be smiling for eight hours straight until that whistle blows.

The Places Where Changes Live

I had two conversations yesterday that have helped dispel a lot of the bitterness I have been feeling about this separation.  The first was with my mom as she talked about how many times she and my dad have had to reinvent themselves to be able to move forward in their lives.  That is encouraging alongside the long talk Scott and I had.  The conversation wound around through what we both need to take out of our time apart and how we feel about our relationship right now as opposed to say one month ago.  We both agree, our fighting IS NOT GOOD.  We both share in this, and since the initial decision to split, we haven’t fought.  It’s a freaking world record, no lie.  We have been kind to one another and have really learned to SEE each other.  This is momentum we don’t want to lose and jumping back together based on two weeks would be inviting another regression.

Sucky, suck, suck.  So we move forward, in different directions.  And try to find the place where two whole people can re-converge.

Heart Trouble, Maybe the Final Pun

My husband and I are separating.  There’s no eloquent way to announce it.  I’ve spent a lot of years hating myself and letting it show as anger toward him.  A guy can only take so much and while I very much know that it takes two in these situations, I take full responsibility for my mess.  That is why we are separating.  He gets the oxymoronic lifestyle of room-to-breathe and home-full-of-our-teenage-girls.  I am going to face my demons and learn to grow up by moving in with my folks.  We do what we do.  We get space to figure out who we are.  Our youngest nailed us in one of our family talks with the fact that we have been stuck in these habits and assigned roles that we haven’t been able to break out of.  Who knows what’s under all that!

So, what does home look like right now?  Boxes, as they pack for an apartment in town and I try to sort what to give away and take along and leave with them.  I am terrified to see how close to hoarding I have come, as if these things could equal real life.  As I’ve thrown away school papers, used coloring books, stained blouses, I have taken such a weight off of my self.  I see the rest of my family doing the same.

Scott and I talk, a lot.  We have talked about real, important stuff without fighting more in the last week than we have in ten years.  Each of us exists in this liminal state where he makes sure my phone is working and I fold his laundry and we are achingly courteous to one another.  Each of us finally can see a bit of how the other feels inside.  Each of us wants the other to be better, to be happy, but that ain’t gonna happen with the two of us under one roof.  Every day we move closer to the day where I get in my car and go.  How the hell do I do this, pull away from my daughters, my dogs, my love?  I guess we will all learn as we go.