Sunday, December 4, 2011

This is home now.

So I'm doing this exercise. You're supposed to go into the place that hurts and rest there.

I close my eyes and go into it. It's easy to do. I still remember what it felt like to wrap my arms around aqua-eyed boy, the sensation. Warm little bursts punctuated by achy little stabs. This is what it means to love someone you shouldn't.

And so I go into the ache and sit. It's like I'm in a windstorm, dust swirling around me, a roaring noise drowning out the sounds of everyday. The cacophony is overwhelming.

I sit inside this place and I put a little quiet bubble around me. Guess what. I'm not the storm, the storm is in me. Instead of running for cover like I normally do, I observe it curiously. There are flashes of memory.

The time he pulled me into his lap and sang "Joey" while tenderly brushing my hair.
Joey, baby, don't get crazy
Detours, fences... I get defensive.
I know you've heard it all before
So I don't say it anymore
I just stand by and let you fight your secret war.
He was the first one I tried to love after 17 years with my ex sank into the ground as if into a giant sinkhole and disappeared. I wandered then like I was on the moon, no oxygen, no water, only a dusty craterscape barren of anything nurturing to a life form. My earth disappeared and banished me in the process. It was like my ex's pain set a curse upon me. You don't deserve to thrive, I felt. There was day and night but little else.

This boy, the one with walls around his heart, was the first one to reach out. A soldier in the war of life with battle scars on his heart, skilled at recognizing the wounded. He was my trauma unit. He wrapped gauze around my heart and tried to stabilize me. I adored him for that.

The wind continued to howl. Some scenes with my ex. The terrible look in his eyes when he realized I was gone before the words were said. But it was too late. It didn't feel right anymore.

A house twists by, Wizard of Oz style, except it 's mine. Lifted and raised and dropped and broken. We let it go. It was no longer home.

I feel safe and protected in my little bubble. The storm can no longer lash at me. Around me it can howl but I'm settling within, cozy and warm. This is home now.


  1. This sounds like the pain of trying to move on...I think you are making progress :)

  2. I love your blog. I am going through something similar right now. The idea of voluntarily going into the place of the most hurt and staying there is frightening, but maybe I will try it. Please keep writing. It feeds my soul.

  3. Tim, thank you for your support. It really means so much. I don't know if you read the comments but I read each one and I so appreciate you keeping in touch.

    Pauline, thank you for such a touching comment... I started my blog because others were writing about the pain that I silently held inside. I didn't know that I'd be able to contribute anything so hearing that this is helpful to someone else really moved me. Thank you for stopping by. I'll be thinking of your own journey too. If you have (or decide to start) a blog, please let me know: or comment somewhere.

  4. this is beautifully written. I've felt my own painful emotions, feelings, memories, thoughts like this. It's VERY helpful to read this. You are a brave warrior.