February 14, 2016

Feeling More and More Like Myself

Feeling More and More Like Myself

The rain and snow came in gently last night and blanketed the street below. I woke up and listened to the sounds of the slush on the sidewalks and the plows off in the distance. It has been awhile since I have slept through the night, but it was getting easier. I no longer wake in a grip of anxiety and dread about the day ahead—the middle of the night.

There were no more demands and expectations—free to be me once again. To wake in the middle of the night and write or to just be and listen to the quiet. Things were slowly shifting back into place after a long time of being away—like being on a trip somewhere and coming home. I had found some peace and solitude once again.

There were still so many questions and so much to do, but slowly my new life was taking hold and I was finding my way once again. Ending a marriage is never easy, but it becomes much harder when it ends in a brutal way. The violence lurks below for years before it erupts in your life and you find things were not what they seemed.

Slowly you learn to pick up the pieces and start again. Shifting through what remains as you struggle to understand how things came apart and how to put them together again. I didn't plan on being single at this stage, but then who really does plan for divorce. Oftentimes it comes unexpectedly and without notice. In my case, it came written on a police report. Of all the ways I would have thought my marriage would have ended this was not one of them. The notice I was given was certainly a shock, but even more shocking, was the way who I was and what my life had been was being discussed. Who was this person they were talking about—it was not me!

Who the fuck are you all talking about, the anger was there, but I had yet to access it. This was not me and whoever they were writing about would be cleared up. That and other things I was to come to learn was not what was going on. My whole life had somehow been ripped apart and replaced with some fucked up version someone else had imagined.

This was all some warped mistake that would be resolved right away because it was so different from the person I was and the life I had been living. I sat in shock and disbelief, but little did I know the nightmare was only just beginning. It would take months before I was able to even start to piece together what had become of the life I thought I had.

The light filters through the window and the coffee is ready. It amazes me that I can sit here after being in such shock for so long. That I can put my life together in a different way. That I can survive such a destruction of what I thought I knew and rebuild. I listen to the quiet as the snow melts and know that things will finally be ok.



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