My marriage to my ex-husband. When it was good, it was very, very good. And when it was bad, it was ugly. I am finally dealing with it.
In the beginning I was hiding. I never understood the depth or the level of pain that I was feeling. I pushed it down and pushed it away and never looked at it straight in the face. Not the break up of my actual marriage; but the residual feelings it created and left behind.
Sometimes I think of him; a thought or a moment. Something small and insignificant, like the way his hands looked wearing his wedding ring; my wedding ring. I have missed that. How he looked when he spoke my name and the smile that would glint in his eye. I think of these things and then I cry. Not for the loss of him, but for the hole that it has left in my heart.
And for the first time in two years I am not filling it with anything. I have been lucky in some regard, I was smart enough not to jump into another relationship and fill that hole with someone else and perhaps their problems. However, over the last two years I have been filling that hole with other things; food, driving, self hateful thoughts, friends, my job, the ability to keep going and burn the candle at both ends all the time. But mostly I have filled that hole with my Mother’s love.
Tonight I longed for her. So deeply I can not begin to express my utter feeling of despair that I so desperately needed to feel her place her hand on top of mine and tell me that everything was going to be okay, that I would be okay. Her beautiful, long fingers giving me a great wave of love and support. Her capable hands that always knew how to make everything better. My Mother’s strength is unparalleled and has always had the ability to make me see the light of day. And now I have to do it on my own.
I have put physical distance between my Mother and me. Not because I don’t want to be with her, but because I can’t be. Her love is so powerful and so strong and so supportive that often she takes the burden of truth away from me and relieves me of the pain that I think I have to feel, that I need to feel, that I want to feel. For the first time in my life I am forced to stand on my own two feet. For the first time in my life I am forced to take a look at the greater picture that is my life and what I am making of it. I am forced to take the burden of responsibility and not allow anyone to tell me that I will be okay. Because the only way that I am going to be okay with the pain that my divorce left behind is if I come to terms with my realities and make myself okay again. I need to fill the hole with love for myself.
Tonight, I cried on the bus ride home and made a bit of a fool of myself. And then I smiled because I survived it. My Mother gave me all her love, all her support, so many years of teaching me how to be a person. All this I did not leave behind. I carried her strength with me over an ocean. I am using these tools to grow every single day. And like a boat of protection; even in a far off country, I am still supported by the love of my Mother’s hands.