wounds

Turn your wounds into words.

A dear friend is going through a difficult time in her life…I knew the feeling. I knew the angst, the sadness, the anger. I knew. I knew how she felt and I knew how to help her.

Pain is our greatest teacher.  We go through horrific experiences feeling as if we are not going to make it out on the other side. We aren’t going to make it. We are going to stop breathing, stop living and curl up in a ball and die. However, it doesn’t happen that way.

Pain teaches us so much about ourselves. We actually DO come out of those experiences wiser, stronger, more in tune with our authentic, real self. I wouldn’t believe it either if I didn’t experience it first hand.

I experienced pain first hand. Looking back, it was the best experience of my life. I know who I am, I know what I want, I am stronger than ever.

I know how to help my friend.

“Write, write, write”! I told her.  I explained that blogging throughout my pain was very therapeutic. Word dumps. Get it out. Cut open your heart and let all the words bleed onto this blank piece of “paper”.

She did.

She’s done a few posts (Link to her page here) and I can already tell that it’s helping. She’s a phenomenal writer and you’d be crazy not to follow her words.

I am grateful that I was able to share this blogging with her. It’s going to do amazing things for her!

 

what a long, strange trip its been

It truly has been.  From devastation to recovery and everything in between. It has been a wild ride. Although I am not 100% detached from my story–I don’t think I ever will be-I am able to handle things with more grace than before. That angry, hot headed scorned ex wife is no longer. A newer, better version of myself has emerged.

I still get emotional sometimes. I cried little tears yesterday when I learned that their baby is being delivered on Monday. They were not big, wailing, crocodile tears that lasted for hours. Just a few trickled down to remind me of how far I have come and how far I have yet to go. I will pay myself on the back, however, because I HAVE SURVIVED.

Those three words. I HAVE SURVIVED. I never thought in a million years that I would have survived this. I did. It did not kill me. It did kill a naïve, weak, small version of myself. Thank you for that. However, it did not kill ME. I am stronger because of it.

Thank you to those of you on here–those complete strangers who knew how I felt. Who knew what to say to me at the right time. I don’t know you personally, but what you have done for me here, I will never forget.

I HAVE SURVIVED.

 

 

What A Difference a Year Makes

I’m back.

A lot has changed in my life since my last post.  I honestly don’t even know when I was on here last. My apologies.

My divorce was official in January of 2015. The year anniversary is coming up. It may have passed. I don’t know. All I know is that time heals some pain. Pain that I was feeling during this entire ordeal is not as severe as it was at once point.

I can breathe.

I survived.

Sure it stings to know they my ex and his girlfriend are having a baby and living in my old house that I shared with him and my children.

But I survived.

I bought my own home around the corner. It’s a perfect house for the kids and me. The energy is better. It’s a happy little house.

I survived.

I can breathe.

I’ve dated here and there—I’ve learned what I want and what I don’t want. I’ve learned what I deserve. That person hasn’t come along yet. I know the universe is working on it for me. I ask, I believe and I will receive.

I still harbor some anger and hatred towards my ex and her. I am really trying to work on that this year. I am trying to be in the present moment. Meditate. Be grateful each day for what the universe has given me. I am listening to The Secret during my 20 minute drive to work and back.

Ask.

Believe.

Receive.

Breathe.

Broken Open

I was given this book, Broken Open written by Elizabeth Lesser, from a dear friend who has/continues to watch my ride on this emotional roller coaster.

She’s seen me laugh.

Cry.

Grieve.

Question.

SCREAM.

She is a very calm person. Always seems to stay calm in the face of adversity. (Ok, she’s a 9th grade English teacher..Hard to stay “calm” at all times)

I am slightly jealous of her collected ways and her “inner peace.”

She always tells me, “walk when walking.”

Easier said than done.

Anyway, she found this great author, Elizabeth Lesser, who has written about “How Difficult Times Can Help Us Grow.”

(Check her out here:http://www.oprah.com/oprahshow/Excerpt-from-Broken-Open-by-Elizabeth-Lesser)

My friend bought a copy for me and her. I have NOT been able to put this book down. As I am reading it I catch myself saying: “OH MY GOD! YES, THAT’S HOW I FEEL!

I can stock shelves of a self help bookstore. I’d order a book, read the first few pages and never look back. (Not ALL my books, just some) “It’s not the right time for me to be reading that”, I would think.

That is NOT the case with Broken Open. Please, if you need something that can pull you out of your suffering forever or just a few minutes, buy this book. You will NOT be disappointed!

 

One day at a time…

That has been my mantra since I dug myself out of the suffocating and exhausting vortex of pain. For months I was stuck in this swirling tornado of emotions. 

My whole world was sucked into this monster and spit out far away from anything that I had hoped for. I was always worrying about the future. Never living in the now.

It has taken me a while to stop my mind from perseverating on “what will be.” I have somehow blocked (or killed) any thoughts or notions of my desire and hope for a healthy marriage. The thought doesn’t even really cross my mind anymore. Have I accepted it? Yes, I have moments where I fall back into some emotional sand storm, but I come out quicker than before. I have to “get through” the emotions because there is no way “around them.” (If my stbex worked through his emotions we wouldn’t be in this mess)

I was talking to my father yesterday and he said to me; “What do you think is going to happen LONG TERM? Do you think you’ll be living there? Moving?”

My response? “Dad, I am only worrying about May 18th 2014. Then tomorrow, I will only be worrying about May 19th, 2014 and so on.”

I can’t predict the future. I can’t think about the future. I can only think about this day. What are my jobs today? Get up, get the kids out the door, teach the youth of America, pick up kids, make memories with kids, kiss them hug them love them. Today. 

I will think about tomorrow when it comes. 

“Do not dwell in the past, do not dream of the future, concentrate the mind on the present moment.”

-Siddhartha Gautama

Scars.

Scars. 30 staples. Excruciating pain.

It will all be worth it.

Years of captivity. Years of being held prisoner by his war wounds. Years of pain, lost life, no real living.

It will take a few months but the pain will go away. 

He won’t be held captive. Won’t be held prisoner by his war wounds. (memories, yes. physical pain, no)

He will live life and will make memories with his four grandchildren.

Can we follow his determination?  His strength?

I am trying. One day at a time.

Let’s take a break.

I mean from my story. I drove my father two hours for back surgery today. I cried when I left because I didn’t know if it would be the last time I would see him.

He has THE best neurosurgeon. ..works on Dallas Cowboys and plenty of NHL players.

A 66 year old Vietnam vet is right up there with them in my book. Number one.

I am sitting here (patiently) waiting for him to come up from recovery. He’s going to be in a lot of pain but his quality of life is going to sky rocket.

What is that? Another metaphor for my life? Wow. It literally just smacked me on the head as I sit in this cold hospital room…

My father endured years and years of pain in his lower back. Bone on bone with nerves pinched in between. They took out the broken pieces and replaced it with strong titanium mesh. He’ll be a new person….in about two weeks.

I am removing the broken and dead pieces from my life as well. The pieces that have caused me so much pain for all of these years.

Once I am strong like that titanium piece that is in my dad’s back, my quality of life with sky rocket too.

Bring it on Dr. M!

Transitions.

We have a student with Aspberger’s in one of the 9th grade English classes that I teach. He is notoriously late for class.

Every class.

Everyday.

He misses important info at the beginning of class then gets worked up because he doesn’t know what we are doing.

Transitions are not easy for him.

If I erased his Aspberger’s, would he still be doing this? I wish I could just jump inside his mind and figure it all out.

Transitions are not easy for me, either.

I hate change. Could I just take my time moving from one phase of my life to another? Go against the rules and respond to divorce papers on my time?

I hate change. I had this idea in my head (and promised to me in our wedding day almost 8 years ago) that we would grow old together and sit in rocking chairs on the porch enjoying life once the kids were grown.

Change. I have to transition to this “new life” that is not what I had hoped for.

I would like know why this student moves at his own pace.

He must hate change too. (I know children with Autism do not like change in their routine)

Each day I wake up and realize that I am one day closer to the end of it all. Makes me queasy. Even though he threw me on this roller coaster of emotions and life changes with no protection from falling to my death, I am still sad.

I am angry at him for the extremely sefish, irresponsible, immature choices he has made for our family. I actually despise him.

But I hate change.

Anyone have a late pass that I can use on life?

Stress much?

I follow many mindfulness blogs, read many books on how to “be present” and practice concentrating on my breath when I realize that I’m not even breathing.  My stress levels are really, really high that I can’t even begin to process how to deal with it all and “just be.” The reactions in my body are so strong that it feels as if there is a little man living in my chest just pounding away with a hammer, trying to get free.

 

 

I guess that could be a metaphor for my heart and head.

I am so overwhelmed by my life’s current state. You know the phrase, “when it rains, it pours”? Well it’s a frickin tsunami in my world.  How can I just “let go” and “just be” when I have huge waves of stressors crashing on me everyday? How can I deal with it?

Alone.

Triggers. Those nasty little gnats that pop up in my face every once in a while. I try to swat them away but they have already bitten. (Do gnats really bite?) Anyway, as soon as I experience a trigger I have heart palpitations, sweaty hands, swirling thoughts of anger, hurt, sadness and I just want to crawl back in bed and cry.

I thought I was doing better.

My counselor said I was doing better.

But I’m not.

I still don’t understand and I know I never will. These damn triggers bring up things that I thought I had dealt with already. Damn gnats. I hate gnats.

 

So to say that I am stressed is an understatement. I need a personal relaxation specialist. A life coach who could follow me around and tell me EXACTLY what to do so I can live a normal life. Slap me in the face if I freak out. Pinch me if I get too anxious. Punch me in the gut if I try to reason with unreasonable actions brought upon me by someone I trusted and loved.

If you know of anyone who would be willing to take on such a task, just send them my way.

 

Words.

I am not a writer. I am not pretending to be.
I wish I was a writer because it would be so beautiful to put into words what I am feeling.

SHITTY.

That’s not a beautiful word.

That’s a crappy word. But that is how I am feeling. I am filled with anxiety at this very moment and my heart feels like I just ran a marathon.
All because he is here. All because he makes my blood boil. How is this SHITTY feeling a blessing in disguise?

I lock myself in my room when he comes over to see the kids. I literally want to go downstairs and claw his face off for all the pain his choices have caused.

One bright spot—the kids are being terrible to him. My bit of instant karma.