How does one protect ones they love from pain when they’ve already experienced so much emotional devastation to begin with?
Why should one forgive another for the act of infidelity? Is this even possible? Do the reasons why make that much of a difference or is the act itself all that matters?
Over and over I process in my head, my heart. Some people, without knowing the entire truth, so angry with my kids’ reaction to the divorce, that as young adults themselves, they should somehow understand I’m a grown woman who was unhappy and decided to make a new life for herself – took a stand, placing herself before all others, including her own children.
If only this woman had that kind of fortitude. She did not. Her decision to divorce, what led up to ending her long term marriage – the result of not caring nor thinking of herself first; the aftermath, its devastation she was not prepared for.
She had affairs to survive her own emotional pain. Her reasons for doing so, the clarity of her own why’s more abundant today than yesterday.
I speak of myself in third person unconsciously, not realizing its significance. That woman, shreds of her still exist though dissolving, disintegrating, dismantled. She slowly dies inside. And as she dies her pain rises, heightened, a rawness she faces each day.
Last night I fell into the dark place again. “Please, no, anywhere but there, Can’t go back again. Please…” as if crying out to someone, anyone yet I do not know who. Is it God? A higher entity? Myself?
In between twilight sleep, tears and rapid breathing, I wake with sadness, so much fucking sadness. And anger. Fucking anger. Anger that I fucked up. More than fucked up – devastated the two people I love most and devastated myself along with them. Writing my therapist within the dark place hours ago, asking for help, I realize how much further I have to go.
Among all this, today feels different. For the first time, self-pity takes a back seat. Is it still there? Each time I allow myself to feel sorry for myself, I am thrown into that dark place once again. Today I awake without self-pity. A sign of growth, more insight? At least right now, I sit in this moment. I live in this moment.
The devastation of losing my kids, whether it be a month, year, decades, is a death – a place so unbearable, a place I could’ve never imagined. Is it selfish that I need my kids? Do they need me? Can we help each other through the devastation or are we to continue alone, separate from another? How much longer, if ever, must our estrangement go on? Should I put my foot down, confront them as their parent, insist we all seek family counseling? Hell, no. Not who I am. The fear of making things worse holds me back though, in essence, could the estrangement get more polarized than is? I long for them to come to me, their yearning to ask questions, to share their fears, pain, to be together, helping each other through our own individual journeys.