Grief Stole the Mic

 Today the grief is epic and palpable and my teeth are gritted but I can't seem to move past it. Its engulfing every moment, every task, every breath. And its intimately connected to every past grief, great and small. It feels like the time I was in elementary school and my brother went away to summer camp for 2 weeks and I went into the lonely emptiness of his room and sobbed. It feels like the even bigger empty space he created when he died and left pockets of lonely emptiness everywhere. It feels like the deep longing ache of missing ma p'tite Maman, and wanting to call and cry all of these giant lonely engulfing griefs into her arms until the holes are filled with water and no longer empty but weighted down with love. Because grief tears are love tears. The two always dance together.

I thought maybe writing it down, vomiting it out, would provide some relief. But it hasn't. 

I was trying to think, why now? Why this moment? What is different about today besides the gray and the rain?

We went camping this weekend for the first time in a long time. Its been forever since we've gone this long without a getaway. We had a wonderful time with the dearest of friends, and I felt seen and loved. I've been doing new hard things and challenging myself and the wrong ideas about what I am capable of and finding so much joy in it. I took my little funky monkey to homecoming, and directed their friends in a photo shoot and felt so loved when they told me I was the absolute opposite of embarrassing, and called out loudly "I love you, Mama!" not once, but THREE times. In front of their peers! This is like winning the teenager moments lottery!

So why this deep grief today? Is it because usually I leave the kids at the house when WB is with them and today they left me at the campground? Is it because so much has changed since the last time we went camping and trips are the markers of time for me? Is it just because shit feels more real in this moment?

I always tell the kids joy and grief are always walking hand in hand through every moment of life. And its okay, that's the way life is meant to be. It is so much deeper and more beautiful an experience because of it. Maybe I have just been hyper aware of the joy lately, and grief needed to be heard too.

Saying the Words

 Tonight at couples counseling we admitted we are heading towards divorce and not reconciliation. At least I did. With prompting. A lot of prompting.

I haven't wanted to say the words aloud- I've resisted it. Like the time at counseling when it took WB an hour to say "I feel sad" and he dodged around the words as if they were daggers until he heard himself say "I can recognize, there may possibly be some sadness there" and realized how ridiculous it was. That was me, in my avoidance dance, desperately repeating that I was completely devoid of hope but unwilling to pull the trigger in saying what that lack of hope meant and instead showing up week after painful week through gaslighting and manipulation, stress hives and neck pain, and constant fight or flight in my body. 

But tonight I stayed mostly centered. Tonight I trusted in my own knowing instead of letting someone else's story of me become my own that I carried like the heaviest weight around this very injured (both literally and metaphorically) neck.

And with the words came both freedom and epic grief. Heartbreak.

He asked, in a way that sounded like an accusation (as is his custom....the way I imagine one of those giant pointing foam fingers would sound if they could talk. And if they had massive trust issues. And completely unprocessed childhood trauma. Of the foam variety) what specifically was heartbreaking to me. I didn't even know how to answer that. I didn't understand the question. I mean, everything. Everything about it is heartbreaking. He asked, in his foam finger voice, how I could be heartbroken if I had no hope left. 

I'm not sure if it was his way of trying to say he still wanted to fight for the marriage, or if he was just trying to still lash out at me, but either way it was this incredibly sad and crystal clear illustration of what happens between us. Badgering the witness to list the exact nature of the heartbreak, in bullet points with footnotes, isn't helpful in any way. The only way to move in any direction before being swallowed entirely by quicksand is empathy and compassion. For ourselves as well as for each other. 

I won't engage in the who is right battle anymore. That will continue for lifetimes if we let it, and I don't have any more flesh to amputate. Really I just want peace. Empathy. Compassion. I want my confidence back. I want to hear my own knowing louder than someone else's deeply damaging story. I want to honor the knowing in my body (the body always knows) that has been screaming for years now. I want to live in self trust rather than fear and doubt. The view is so much better. Location location location. 

But tonight, I'm trying to sit compassionately with my deep grief. No foam fingers allowed,