Wednesday, June 11, 2014


Last weekend, the husband and I took a trip into that sucking hole of negative energy that we created during the café years.  Many things were said, mostly by him, and mostly laying the blame for every bad thing directly on me.  For my part, I cried and writhed and let myself be utterly shamed and demoralized.  I was convinced that my husband had stopped loving me because of all the crap that had gone on between us during those arduous five years; and that three years later, all my efforts to clean the slate of how horrible I had been, had gone for naught.  Husband’s position was written in stone.  He no longer loved me.

Honestly, for the entire rest of that day, I was lost.  I thought some action was required of ME to end the stalemate.  I pondered several different courses of action, from staying, to leaving, to ending myself (Yes.  I did.)  I had no idea what to do, and was very nearly convinced that the situation would best resolve itself if I “walked on.”

I inhabited that lonely, dark and sorry place until late in the evening, when I drove down to the Safeway to get myself something for dinner.  I shopped.  I cooked (well, I microwaved a Stouffer’s dinner.)  I ate.

And gradually, the pain lifted.  I climbed up the stairs and played Solitaire on my iPad until I couldn’t keep my swollen, tear-scoured eyes open any longer.  And I slept.

That in itself was unusual.  Normally, when I get into these obsessive places where I feel desperate to make life-changing (or –ending) decisions, I don’t sleep.  I get caught in a Star-trek-esque “causality loop” that goes on for days, and only recedes slowly, after the obsessive replays fade in the light of everyday living.  I may eventually feel resolved, or resigned, or simply tired of being sad, but I never feel good or refreshed immediately following one of these episodes.

I know that those of you who still come here are sick to death of reading about this stuff.  But I had to bring it up this time…because this time was different.  Because not only did I sleep, a normal, restful sleep, but I woke up the next day completely free of the two-ton emotional weight I generally carry around after one of these dives into uncertainty and depression.  I did indeed feel good.  For no earthly reason at all. 

I had NOT thought anything through, I had NOT come to any earth-shaking decisions,  I had not taken any drugs, had not done any meditating, had not dragged my problems before the Creator in the sense that I prayed or petitioned or performed any ritual.  I just ate a Salisbury steak, played solitaire and went to bed.  Didn’t even have any important or enlightening dreams, that I can remember.

But I woke up refreshed, no longer sad and desperate.  Happier and more positive than I have been in a long time, as a matter of fact. 

It felt awesome, albeit very strange.  When I revisited the issue of the argument of the day before, my eyes didn’t well up, my lip did not tremble.  I did not experience that old “fight or flight” reflex to which I’ve become so accustomed.  What happened was this:

I suddenly recalled how I felt when I was over-challenged and basically nuts, running that restaurant.  One of the most horrible aspects of that time was that the husband completely turned his back on me.  Yes, I was mean, and I was crazy…so I guess I don’t really blame him.  But it hurt so bad.  All I could think was that marriage…love...the unconditional love upon which a marriage is supposed to be built…was not supposed to be like that.  Sure, I was an asshole, but he utterly abandoned me, emotionally.  When I needed him most, he just…walked away.

And now I was prepared to do exactly the same thing to him.          

NOT what marriage…love…the unconditional love upon which a marriage is supposed to be built, is all about.  And I damned well knew it.  Moreso than most people, since I had experienced it. 

So now I was going to turn around and do to him what had hurt me so much? 

No.  You don’t do that to the one you love.  And you SURE don’t do it when you know you’re doing it, and you know you shouldn’t.

So what brought about all this unaccustomed insight and understanding?

Lately, when I do my morning ritual, one of the things I have asked of the Creator is to give me sight.  To allow me to see in the dark places, and from far away, as my spirit guides Owl and Hawk do.  Honestly, I don’t have any idea how I thought the answer to that request would manifest itself.  But I’m sure I expected it to be dramatic and obvious…maybe slightly less spectacular than a lightning bolt or an owl landing in my tree in broad daylight and speaking to me.  When nothing like that transpires, you start thinking in the back of your mind that maybe your spiritual path is all in your head; maybe you’re out there raising your arms and baring your soul to the empty air.      

But that isn’t so, is it?  Because the Creator can speak to us so softly, direct us so quietly, that we can entirely miss what is going on if we don’t make the effort to really look.  And it looks as if the answer to my request for sight has come in the form of slowly being able to see clearly what I am doing when I start down one of these destructive, negative paths.  And allowing what I see to make me to stop and change direction, to move away from the sucking negative hole of my tendency toward depression and hopelessness. 

I can’t even begin to express how grateful I am that the Creator does see fit to grant my requests, always in ways I could never imagine, but always in ways that put me back on the path toward the light.   

Indeed, “Sometimes I go around feeling sorry for myself, and all the while I am being carried by the wind across the sky…”       



1 comment:

  1. Turning tears into wisdom is a decent day's work. I hope that your insight continues to bring you peace.