Thursday, January 27, 2011

I've come a long way.

I abandoned this blog.  I felt too exposed here, even though this is nothing but an online journal that I thought literally no one read.  I was wrong.  Someone took it upon him- or herself and shared the link with someone else, and the whole thing blew up yesterday.  It isn't my story to tell, so I won't.

What I will do is write a little update on me and The Divine Miss M.  (She is Divine, you know ~ she's communicating sooo well now.  All you have to do is watch her subtle expressions and talk to her - she'll respond every.single.time.)

We got moved.  We made it through the Holidaze.  It was anything but easy.  I've been out (on dates) with several people, had an excellent (if decadent!) New Year's Eve weekend, and during the course of the month of December, I had over a dozen people inside my house at various times.  It was awesome.  Given where I was physically in January 2010, this is amazing.

I'm almost done with the office unpacking.  The rest of the house is functional and we love it here.  The front porch is gorgeous and we love the back deck ~ we will really love it this summer.  My mom's giving me her gas grill and I foresee many days of sitting out on the deck under an umbrella (we'll find one!), grilling and drinking cold beverages. I'm looking forward to Spring.

Miss M's room is gorgeous ~ butterflies and pink and purple (she picked the colors, of course) with a new daybed.  My room is my refuge and it's gorgeous ~ all mauve and white and my favorite room in the house. 

I'm currently enthralled with the concept of light ~ I think because I walked out of his metaphorical closet and into the light.  But even before that, I quite literally walked out of a dark bedroom and a dark, miserable, pain-filled life.  I need to remember what part of that healing equation came first:  the relief of the actual, physical pain.  How light and energized I felt when the pain stopped.  How very grateful to be alive I was (and had forgotten!) ~ after all those drugs, all those doctors, all the crazy interventions.  I survived.  This emotional pain that I have now?  It will be healed, too. 

It just requires light and love. 

More than anything, I feel like God is telling me to open the curtains, let the light in and live out loud.  I want to embrace my life ~ to live in it every minute.  I want to dance  ~ and I often do ~ like no one is watching.  I want to be honest and true to myself and everyone I meet.  Sometimes, though? I can't. I'm still human & I've been hurt.

Yesterday, I realized just how close to that metaphorical closet I still am.  I didn't walk out of it and powerfully slam the door behind me.  No.  I couldn't.  I crept out on hands and knees, stiff and sore from being curled in the fetal position under a stack of closet detritus for the last decade.  Even worse, I left the door ajar so I could reach back inside and stroke the lovely darkness that was my emotional life for so long: the knits and the silks and suede and lace and wool and leather of the fear and self-loathing and loving and needing and resentment and disappointment and even capital F Fear and wanting-so-badly-not-to-fail-DAMMIT .

I need to close that door. 

I don't live there.  He is no longer my responsibility.  I no longer need lie or cover for him.  I no longer need understand him or any potential reason for his behavior. Yesterday, even though it will be months yet before I am divorced in the physical world, I divorced him in my mind and my heart.  We are now eternally divided.  The only intersection we have is Miss M.  That's it.  (Simply the most important person in my life, world without end, Amen.)

I think I know how to close that door.

Firmly.  With the windows open and my heart open and my mind open to the possibilities outside the door.  

In the Light, because it's wrapped around the love.  Soul-searing, testifying, angel-choiring, mind-blowing, dancing and laughing Light ~ and love.

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