My journey these past two years now, has taken a completely new direction. An unexpected direction for sure, but one that I am finally learning to embrace. Learning to accept. A huge part of it has meant letting go of things that I have clung to fervently, in the hope that I would wake up one day and realise that it was all just a bad dream, and the life I had always envisioned for myself would still be there.
How little we really know about ourselves, until something comes along that totally steers us off course and heads us into storms we are not sure we can weather. But we do. Somehow, we emerge at the other end, not a different person, but a person changed irreparably by the very nature of our trials. We emerge, not broken, but more whole. I am finally understanding.
It has taken much time and many, many trials to get to this point. I am grateful to be here. I am grateful to know which road I will walk for the next part of my journey. It's as if though our fragility gives us more strength. The juxtaposition of two very different energies. Holding us up, willing us on, forcing us to look deep inside for the wisdom that is always ours. If we would only look for it.
I am learning that what you most resist, is always a lesson disguised as quietly as a pearl hidden deep inside the oyster. Resistance holds back the realisation that there is a purpose in this pain. That God has a plan that is not yours to decide. Being human, that's a whole lot to swallow sometimes. But the yielding, the softening, the releasing brings it's own rewards and a deep peace that goes with it.
Two years ago, I really believed that I was happy. Or, maybe I wanted to believe I was happy. While I was working hard at bolstering that belief, a small part of the true me, the real Tricia, was dying inside. My self-esteem was being chipped away at, my heart was heavy and I knew that something was very, very wrong. Looking at it closely proved to be too painful. I chose to carry on my life, as if though everything was just fine. And so it was. On the outside at least. I had two beautiful children, a husband that loved me (or so I believed at the time and for the purpose of not becoming bitter, I will continue to believe that). I lived in a beautiful home, I had friends, I had everything. From the outside.
My husband made the decision for me. He told me he was leaving. We had problems in our marriage,they were very obvious. It was no secret to either of us. Yet, I was not willing to believe that we could not fix ourselves, fix each other. For those of you who know me, I have the loyalty and commitment of a pit-bull when it comes to protecting my own. I will fight to the bitter end for those I love. I took my wedding vows very seriously and would never have envisioned that I would have to give up my deep belief that I was in this for the long haul.
My question now is, at what price? Is there a price for feeling as if though your spirit is suffocating, but going on despite it? Pushing ahead, because, as women, that's what we do best. We protect, we fight for, we defend. We are warriors for our own causes. Can that price, simply, sometimes, be too high a price to pay?
I had been numbing myself for some time - tuning out, walking through life in a vacuum of emptiness. Hoping that by changing him, things would be fixable. I know now, that you can't always fix what's broken, especially if it's breaking you. It's just not worth that sacrifice. In retrospect. Hindsight is twenty-twenty of course.
The ensuing months of struggle, pain, self-esteem crashing, and looking to find in myself, how I had somehow failed. It's a deep blow to the ego. It's a deep blow as a mother, to think that I had failed my children, by failing to keep their family together, the unit that I wanted it to be.
Time and the ensuing wisdom, has taught me that it is not failing to put three hundred percent into something that was just simply not going to work. That although I had obviously contributed to the end of the relationship in many ways, it was not all about me. Many choices that were made were nothing to do with me. That pouring my heart and soul into my marriage of thirteen years, could not be considered a failure in the big scheme of things. Perhaps trying to cling to it, however, could be how I was failing, mostly myself.
Yes, hindsight is always more comfortable. While you're at the bottom of the pit, enmeshed in the pain and anger, it is hard to see further than those emotions. They define you. They tear you up and destroy you. What's important now, is that I have learnt, that this is not the road I want to be walking for the rest of my time here.
I have two beautiful little people that look up to me for guidance. My way of moving through this painful process and rising above it, is what will guide them in the future, when they encounter their own struggles. Mostly, I owe them the knowledge that being able to breathe in your life, being free to be who you are, and being loved unconditionally anyway, cherished for that, is something that we deserve in a relationship with another. That it is attainable, often with much love and sacrifice thrown in.
Life has changed for the better lately. I have fought a tough battle and I have emerged, not unscathed, but ready to move on. Like the warrior pose in yoga, my lessons have empowered me, as opposed to giving me, power. The difference is subtle but so much more preferable.
Many friends have left my life because of my situation, but they have been replaced by new ones, who have breathed fresh air into my journey. I have connected with many people in the blogging world, who are writing down their own journals of growth, pain and emergence. It's uplifting to realise that I am truly not alone.
The hurts will never be forgotten, the wounds will probably always be a part of me. Especially the hurt caused to my children. It is something that I am working on forgiving myself for. It is something that I am striving not to have define me. It will hopefully teach them that their mother does believe in herself enough to know that she actually deserves to be happy and fulfilled, despite that all that has happened these past two years. That she's not giving up on them. Ever. That life is beginning again, with a different title. That we are still a family. That things have changed, but the love we have for each other hasn't.
Mostly, I am quietly listening to God and waiting more patiently for the next part of the story to unfold.
