spreading manure and balm

I’ve just begun going to a divorce recovery group. It seems already helpful. I know I need to process my feelings so that I can heal. It is immensely helpful to talk about my experiences, my emotions. It’s as if I have a giant sack I am carrying around that weighs me down. As I talk, I take another piece or two from the sack and leave it. If I talk enough, I will finally rid myself of the burden. That’s why I started this blog. That’s why it helps to journal. Why we go to counselors and therapists. Why God wants us to bring our sorrows to Him. We can’t just keep unloading on our friends and family all the time, either, because, since they love us, they kind of hold on to that little piece we left them with. If we aren’t careful, they will soon be feeling the weight of our sorrows and grief. So we have to spread the manure around…

Of course, there is homework. A ┬ábig part of the process is figuring out what’s going on on the inside. Naming it… thinking it through…

I feel like I am no longer connected to the planet. That I’ve lost my gravity. My family, friends, home, church, life’s little routines… all those bits kept me planted… like the roots of a tree. That is all gone. So how do I not just float off into space? I have quite literally, physically felt as if I would. It is terrifying. I feel empty and void inside. Jesus certainly has been my rock, my anchor. But I still get that sickening feeling. I’ve asked my friend to hold my hand to keep me tethered. I don’t know if he understands. But it helps. When my oldest son visits it helps, too.

I have such fear and loneliness and hurt. This isn’t new. How can I live for so many years with such sadness? Mom and Dad kept asking me after I left, “Don’t you feel better?” NO… no, no, no! I did not feel better. I am still trying to feel better. I am trying to make connections, friends, but I find I’m not certain I really want them. I’m afraid of them. I don’t want to pretend I’m okay. I spent so many years covering the pain and sadness and loneliness with a smile and busy-ness, I don’t want to do that anymore. I want to heal and get better, not pretend I’m okay and healthy and just having so much fun. My friend has been so helpful in making me laugh and soothing the loneliness. I don’t ever feel like I’m pretending with him. It feels more like therapy, like healing. And since he talks and talks about his hurt, I can talk about my hurt, too. He’s not always a great listener, but he’s getting better. And hugs help. Hugs help so much.

I feel like an enormous part of my self has died. And that I’m walking around not really living. I’ve forgotten how to have fun. How to enjoy myself. I still laugh and do things. but they are at like 20%, like I used to ride a road bike fast. Now I need to pedal around the driveway on a tricycle. And I know there is a world of people out there having fun, having a life, and I feel unable to participate. And that makes me very unhappy. Life is passing by and I’m just sort of catatonic. I don’t know how to break the spell and go be a real person again.

This week I am going to do one thing that I love that I haven’t done since I left. That is a promise to myself. To put a smile on my face. To put some healing balm on my wounded heart and begin to recover something I have lost.

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