I have no choice right now. In spite of all of this, I continue to exist and I continue to walk. But I’m scared.
I didn’t expect the anger and hate. I expected apologies, remorse, a desire to change. But no, I stand here now feeling like the one who has done wrong. Have I?
I struggle to see the justice in what I have done…am I the villain?
He doesn’t know why I left. He feels blindsided.
I try earnestly to put myself in his shoes. I know the trauma of being left suddenly, especially by the one person who was your security. But I was eight when it happened to me. He’s 44. Did he really have no idea?
I’m in panic mode. I don’t feel like we’ll meet at a point of convergence. My security is gone now too but it was my choice this time. I’m scared as hell.
The strange thing is that about a year before we were married (about 11 years ago) we had split up. I was dating someone else and I had an encounter one evening. While out on a date with the other guy a feeling so loud and so clear came over me to return to my (now) husband. In that moment I ached to be with him. I followed that voice and returned, knowing with all my heart that we should be together, that I should be with him. We married about a year later and never looked back.
Until now that is when, six months ago, I had the same loud and clear feeling but this time it said, “Go.” And I did.
I have had no instruction since. The first three or so months after leaving felt so right. The last three months have been hell – and getting worse.
I pray to hear direction again.
I am so blind and do not see…
Humble yourselves before the Lord, and he will lift you up.
~ James 4:10
He pulled me out into the deepest center of the ocean, where the storm was the strongest. Then He let me go.
Why? Why would He do this? I wasn’t ready. I wish I could go back but it’s too late now.
He knew I was ready though. And He knew I wouldn’t drown.
I’m gasping for air but I haven’t drowned yet. I won’t.
But I still haven’t learned to let go completely.
As a child learning to swim, I first let go of the side of the pool for a mere second and grabbed back on. The seconds increased and eventually I learned that my body would float. I couldn’t drown. The inherent ability to stay afloat was in me. I would have to had forcibly held myself under if I wanted to drown.
Living is a lot like swimming. Yet as an adult the lesson is a harder one to learn.
It’s almost as if, at times, I am purposely holding myself under. Slowly though I’m learning to become childlike again, letting go of the external identity of how things should be and instead feeling the internal identity of how things are.
The eternal life preserver is reading and willing. Am I?
Words cannot express how lost and displaced I am feeling right now.
The irritability sits at the forefront of my heart and I’m fearful when I feel it stir.
I belong absolutely nowhere right now.
The pain of disconnection is indescribable.
I have never, in all my life, felt a sense of belonging, yet I feel like there is a place for me. But I’m still searching.
I’m caught in between.
I left and that no longer feels good. But to be back where I came from hurts just as much.
I was there just this morning and when he wrapped his arms around me I felt more alone than ever.
His embrace of my body felt more like a proclaiming of object than of a place of rest.
It hurts. I hurt so badly right now.
I try to separate ego and Self. I cannot do it. There is a part of my inner being that says feeling plays a part, that feeling is human. The disconnection from Love is where I’m lost.
Will I ever find the connection that the inner-most being of me longs for?
I can only flounder blindly and with fervent faith, gripping with the tips of my fingers and praying with all my might, that He is putting me back together and not letting me fall completely.
It’s quite amazing to see the amount of anger and indignation in others that silence can invoke.
I’ve been finding it hard to “relate” to others, to the world lately. Relationships are somehow different.
People speak to me and I either have nothing to say or, in order to make myself more comfortable, to avoid the backlash, I respond with the “normal” words that I know the other wants to hear. I find after that the latter hurts worse than the backlash would have.
What used to fill my life, the things I was trying to fill it with to find importance, are falling away.
I feel isolated and displaced, suspended somehow.
I’m doing a little dance on my tippy toes right now, back and forth between old and new.
I search for purpose and fill. But then very quickly I feel the discord. There’s no nourishment in what I’ve just filled my empty pot with. Now I’m left with noise and confusion and all I want is to empty the pot again.
The pot is actually never empty though. When it’s empty of “stuff” it’s filled with Self.
The next time my pot is empty, will I have the presence, the fortitude, the humility, to leave it empty and just listen?