Knowing Your Own Darkness

I've been calling on a lot of friends to help me through the past few days. Every hour without you feels like a millennium. I want to text you constantly and I feel like a psychopath wavering back and forth between wanting to never speak to you again and quit you forever and doing anything to make you mine again.

I sat in church today-- not your church-- sopping up tears with a pitiful Kleenex. Now I'm the one talking to myself in church. I'm saying prayers for you. For you and Eva. I know this must be so hard for you to raise your son alone. It must be so hard to have her memory engrained in your brain and not be able to be with her. I know nothing of the pain you must feel.

There's a portion of each service where people get up to the microphone to share things with the congregation. I wanted to get up and ask them to pray: amidst the loss of your wife, pray for me because I lost you. It pales in comparison. The short two months we were together, though we went through so much in that short time, was nothing compared to 13 years you loved her.

Why did you even decide to get involved with me? Was I so naive to think that you were ready and this was a good idea? You warned me "I'm afraid of the damage that could be done by this relationship. Human collateral damage." You willed it to be so almost. You called it forward. I wanted us to grow together and learn to support each other and build something for ourselves that healed the pain of the past. But you are stuck in the past. You are stuck there with her.

I couldn't bring myself to light a candle for you. But I did ask the pastor at the end of the service if there was a support group for divorced people... or single parents... or grief? There's always a support for grief. She said yes, and that they meet on the first Thursday of every month, which just passed, but that most everyone in the group was coping with death. I blurted out that I am in a relationship with someone who is a widow and so by going, I'd hope to gain an understanding of what he is going through.... What? Why did I say that?...

Monica, my friend who was divorced over ten years ago, responded to my cry yesterday for a friend. She understands what I'm going through. Her wisdom was this,

"Divorce is death. But nobody calls it that. And we get no time off, no cards, no meals brought to the house, no kind words about how great things were and about how much the good will be missed... It's right back to work, right back to your responsibilities, right back to your kids, as if you didn't just get hit my a truck and left for dead. In so many instances divorce is worse. And in others death is worse. But in both cases::: it's not what you wanted. You miss the great amazing good. You mourn what will not be. You mourn what you had. You mourn your dreams as a couple. You are left with a new reality- and you are left alone."

She goes on to say that anger is the beginning of the process. That it's necessary to let go and detach. Eventually comes acceptance, which is the hardest. Because anger is an important motivator and vehicle to just push through it all. 

"And now that he is no longer triggering the anger you're left without an arm. And realizing that living with one arm SUCKS. and it wasn't supposed to be like this. But. THAT. is where you need to get in order to truly heal and be Whole. Living without that arm. Then eventually, you get it down. And then you grow even stronger in other areas and don't even recognize that you lost your arm because you're too busy kicking ass with all your other limbs. ;) "

We talked about facing our demons. Sex. Alcohol. And making amends. She let me know that without working with a sponsor, she wouldn't have made it to healing. It was hard. And, you have to be honest with yourself about all the darkness. 

Carl Jung said that "knowing your own darkness is the best method for dealing with the darkness of other people." I'm not comforted by the thought of dealing with my own darkness. I don't know where all of it comes from and I surely don't want to drudge up lots of old demons to figure out where the darkness came from. I just want a magical light to turn on. 

I dropped my key to your house off and hid it under the flower pot. Your car was in the driveway. Penny didn't hear me until I'd turned to walk away. I was so tempted to open the door one last time and let her jump on me and give her a big hug. I saw a candle burning in your living room, since no lights were on. I really wish you wouldn't leave a candle burning if you're not home or sleeping, since your house could light on fire. I went back to the car and the kids were asking to go inside. It happened exactly like I'd imagined it would. I told them you and your son were not home, but they said your car was there. They're too smart for their own good. I wish I could explain why they can't see you anymore. They miss you and your son. 

If it's over... 

I can't handle this. 

Thoughts of you flashing through my mind. Your new sweater. How handsome you look. Your smile. How much I miss your hands on me. Your voice. The way you cared for me. The time we laughed in bed while I tried to remember the joke I wanted to tell you. The walk through the fall trees with the boys and Penny. The flowers. The way you looked at me from across the room the night of my party.

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COMMITMENT

People say, what is the sense of our 

small effort.

They cannot see that we must lay 

one brick at a time, take one step 

at a time.

A pebble cast into a pond causes ripples

that spread in all directions.

Each one of our thoughts, words

and deeds is like that. 

No one has a right to sit down and 

feel hopeless. 

There's too much work to do. 

Dorothy Day