I am wondering where to start when talking about what is going on in my life at this time. It all seems so depressing, and while it is, someone once told me that there can be joy in loss. I was young and remember thinking that she was so old (probably my age now) that she was demented. She was right. There can be joy in the worst of situations. As you know my life is about to change in the most radical ways I can imagine and it is scary, but the core of me and my family will remain the same. We will still be us-no matter where we go and no matter what we take with us. That is a joyful thought. I have my faith that grows stronger by the day to guide me to where I need to be.
The best man at my wedding to Carl sent me an email today stating
'"Those whom the Lord loves, He chastens". So from the day you were born, consider yourself loved!'...I guess I am loved. I have never had such an outpouring of love from friends and family as I have had since this all started. People I was barely close to cried when they heard how deeply I had been wronged and came to me to give me their numbers to call them if I ever needed anything. I knew I would probably never call but accepted their numbers gratefully. It was like a little bit of comfort on paper to take with me.
I have told several people that for the first month I wandered around like Rick Moranis' character in Ghost Busters (Louis Tully) as he went around asking people if they were the "key master". I told everyone my story in the hope that someone held the "key" to make me feel better. I just wanted some comfort, but any comfort I could find was temporary (at the moment it was happening) and then the heavy weight of the issues would fall back on me; hitting me with full force and almost knocking me over. It ALMOST knocked me over.
That is the joyful part of this. I did not fall down no matter how hard it was to stand up and no matter how hard it was to go on. I actually sat down many nights and "2 minuted" it. Saying to myself that if I can make it for 2 minutes I will be OK. If I couldn't I would call someone to take me to the hospital to get something for my anxiety and depression. I would sit and watch the clock and count off the seconds. Then... I would do it again and again and again. So many times God intervened and would let me sleep for a few minutes or would bring a lifting of my spirits I surely did not expect or felt I deserved.
The pain is still here. How can it not be? One of my sisters told me today I needed to pick up the pieces and move on. It has only been six weeks. I am not ready and said so; all the while silently deciding I will not include her on any further discussions about how I am doing. Some people are not born with the same "empathy gene" I was born with and that is OK. She may not be the "key master" for me but that will not stop me from looking.
I have found so much wisdom in the people I have spoken with that I am in awe of them. I may not have ever needed to hear what they had to say in this way so that may be why I had not come up with this realization before. There were so many times someone would just say the "right" thing that I realized that this was all part of a bigger plan.
The temporary feelings of relief have become much longer lasting as time has gone along. What my sister Margaret said about forgiveness and having to deal with the consequences of our actions brought little relief at the time, but has subsequently been a salve to my open psychic wounds. A statement my friend at work made about God loving me and my ex the same way made me so angry at the time I wanted to yell at her "I want God to punish him for what he did". But now I am happy to think about that idea. I cannot imagine anyone needing God to love him more than that man.