Feels good to be back!

Love one another and you will be happy.  It's as simple and as difficult as that.  ~Michael Leunig

The Mr and I are... well, wonderful - to be frank.

Little Tyke is gone again, and this time it feels like we are doing it right. We're taking advantage and making the most of it. It almost feels like we're dating again.. fun, spontaneity, can't-get-enough-of-each-other-ness. It's back and it's strong. Part of me feels like I should be ashamed/embarrassed that it's the departure of our son that has spurred this on. But I'm done with that. I'm done with guilt. I'm done with denying myself the right to feel good about what's good in my life.

We are blessed. Blessed to have parents (and in-laws) that are there for us and willing to do what they can to help us out. Blessed to know that although our son is not with us, he's in a place of love. Blessed to have the opportunity to almost start again; get ourselves right before we have our baby (back again). What is there to be ashamed of there? The only room for shame is ahead of us - in assessing, at the end of it all, how well we've used this opportunity we've been given. Will we be better parents? Will we be better spouses? Will we be better people? For now, all I see are blessings and we should be - above all - grateful for them.

I've rarely (if ever) been filled with such a sense of power over my own destiny. I've known it for a long time, and anyone who's *ever* read this blog can testify to that, but now I see it. I feel it - definitively and conclusively. I've decided to stop being afraid and start being free. It's already working. By changing me, I've seen (albiet in very small ways so far) how much I can change my life.

When it comes to me and The Mr, I guess I just never truly realised just how big a contribution I've been making to whatever inadequacies I felt there were in our marriage. But I'm done with that too. I know what I want and I know it's possible because that's where we started off to begin with. There's a reason why I married that man and why he married me, and I think we're finding each other again. But we're finding each other as a married couple in 2010, instead of trying to be the girlfriend and boyfriend we were in '05.

What really blows my mind, though, is that as different as 'we' are now, we are actually still the exact same people. We spent the whole of yesterday just drinking vodka and listening to music and talking, then lying in bed and watching movies... just the two of us. That's exactly how we used to spend our days when we were dating - sharing the things we love (including each other!). What felt great was it wasn't some pre-planned 'date night' that all the experts say married couples should have. It was two people who absolutely love each other's company just having a good time.

It made me realise how much time I used to spend longing for what was instead of living what is. It's been here all along, I just didn't recognise it because it doesn't look the same as it did five years ago. It's actually better!

Scars

I read something today. It cut me. It reminded me of an injury of my own - moments long past and wounds not yet healed... This is what I had written about it all those years ago:

To he who scarred my soul, I write this poem.
The one who took a heart of gold and tarnished it to reach his own goal;
The one who borrowed and stole pieces of an identity that wasn't his own;
And patched a disguise that he wore as a robe to add credibility to the lies he told.
To he who scarred my soul, who thinks that I do not know;
That the colours he in time disclosed were the same hue and tone as a heart of stone;
And all the times I was made to feel alone, were manifestations of an emptiness of his own.
A desperate man, out of control. Needing to break me down, just for him to feel whole.
To he who scarred my soul, and left me reeling from the blow.
Who tried to turn this queen into a ho, prostituting my pride for just the chance to be in his zone.
I was a fiend and he was my dope; sprung off the way he made me moan.
The one who had me trapped in a primal hold, feeding off a need I rarely ever showed.
To he who scarred my soul; who took a bud as it was about to grow,
So he could stifle its beauty, thinking it would never know; thinking it had nowhere else to go.
And for longest of times, I travelled his road - in agony as I dutifully carried his load.
But now this bud wants to be a rose, and now he'll reap the harvests of what he sowed.
To he who scarred my soul, your sins will be revisited upon you tenfold.
Hel hath no fury - you know it, you've been told, and soon you'll regret ever having been so bold,
As to ignore a truth that is that old, and think that you could go on living by your own code;
To assume that, for you, the rules would be froze, that your devious ways would go unexposed.
To he who scarred my soul, to he for whom the bell now tolls,
The time approaches when you must stand without cloth or robe, wearing nothing but the lies you've told.
When you must account for your turns along the road, and for how you've used this life that you've been loaned.
And by that time, my testimony will be known; and by your deeds, your fate will be cast in stone.
To he who scarred my soul, who left me in the dark and cold.
The one who had my heart as his home, and then tore it apart as if it was his to own.
There are pieces of me that you grabbed and stole - pieces that I'll never get back I suppose.
But one thing that I know is mine alone, is the power I've gained now that I'm in control.
So to he who scarred my soul, there's one thing you must know;
You may've made me bend, but you could never make me fold; That's one victory that I'll always hold.
Wounds heal and so will the one you left in my soul, though I may carry the scar until I'm old.
And for all that time I'll live in hope, that some good will finally come from this mark on my soul.

Growth

God has entrusted me with myself.  ~Epictetus

Somebody I follow on Twitter inspired me to write this - but more importantly, to share it.

The longer I run, the more I am willing to let catch up with me;
The more ground I cover, the less the race means.
The further from fun, the more like unadulterated bliss it will be;
The less it is fantasy, the more surreal it feels.

Reckless is cautious; and down somehow becomes up.
The answers turn obvious, when you learn to fill your own cup.

The years become welcome, when growth proves itself boundless;

The urge to control dissipates, though you paint you your own canvas.

The noise of urgency succumbs, to a love that is soundless.

And self becomes all you hear, when age finally overcomes brashness.

Getting there is in remembering why you went

Some things have to be believed to be seen.  

~Ralph Hodgson

From this episode forward, the role previously played by 'Hubby' will be played by 'The Mr'. (It was recently pointed out to me that hubby is one of the least sexy things a lady can say to describe her guy)

The Mr and I have really been working hard at this partnership thing. We're both very aware of our triggers and respective neuroses and are starting to become acquainted with each others' too.

I got to thinking... of the many, many, epiphanies I've had (of which only a *few* are included in this blog - trust me), this is the one I've most believed, affirmed, held on to and fought for. I don't know... I'm feeling a little bit of pride here, I have to say. Inside, I'm all like "I've finally found something I finally effing know for sure!" It's proof that this life has not gotten the better of me and I do have a solid core.

I never stopped trying to make it better. That doesn't mean there haven't been times when it got worse. We'd slip into our comfort zones, step back into our roles - but eventually I'd snap out of it and drag him with me. The best part is, he did the same. I was strong when he couldn't be and when I was weak, he wasn't.

That's what it's supposed to be, right? We had a long discussion this weekend about roles and how we assume them, what informs them. His upbringing was textbook, classic. Mother, Father - homemaker, provider. My story is a touch unconventional in comparison to that. I knew only of two individuals, living and doing everything separately - including parenting me - almost a duality of being.

I think I realise now that my child-like mind decided a long time ago what my adult reasoning is finally starting to believe: marriage = one whole. If it's made up of two parts, then they must be equal halves. They just have to be. That's what my own experience, that of friends, and that of my parents' friends has shown me. It's the only way it will work. I'm proud to know it's a belief I've had for that long and a belief that I still hold on to. I'm starting to think there could actually be a real person in here somewhere. *fingers crossed*

Good to know, but far from being the final destination. There's work yet to be done. I mean, this is me we're taking about and self-indulgence is a known vice of mine. It too often leads me over-step the halfway line - seeing myself as bigger than the marriage. I usually check myself on that, but my response-times are not so hot.

The system still has a few kinks in it too. We still use our trusted mutual ritual of bottling up and exploding, but the explosions are getting more frequent and less intense. They used to be blood-letting sessions, now they're just emotional conversations.

Slowly, slowly.

The quiet after the storm

God's poet is silence! His song is unspoken,
And yet so profound, so loud, and so far,
It fills you, it thrills you with measures unbroken,
And as soft, and as fair, and as far as a star.
~Joaquin Miller

And now... silence.

Everything I shouted from the roof tops, the dark secrets I let spill from my lips. It all lays there in a tangled mess, and it seems almost as if it has done nothing but stun us into complete silence. Not that we aren't dealing with it. We are. Steadily, working through all that needs to be fixed, and doing it together. But there is an unmistakable air of things unsaid.

It's a tension that wafts in between us at times, like a shifting fog. Never staying for long, but it hovers thick and heavy while it's there. It's interesting, because in a way it's also kind of a good thing. One thing we came to agree on during the long heart-to-heart (that I needed so badly a month ago) was that to be better to each other, we also had to be better to ourselves. Part of the silence that now prevails is just the two of us, each taking the time to look inside so we can better see what it is we are projecting to the outside - to each other.

I see that now. For the past two weeks, I've been looking at it very differently (and to my detriment). I realise that I had been acting like a small child, who opens one eye and peeks up from his morning prayers to check what the other kids are doing. I did my 'work' and when I was ready, I peeped up at him and got frustrated that his head was still bowed.

I huffed and puffed (in my own head, of course) about how he had retreated from me after he had said we'd do it together. All the time, I never stopped to think that perhaps I needed to just take him at his word and rather try keeping my own head down for a little longer and checking if I didn't still have stuff I needed to refine.

There's a road that we committed to when we had that talk - a road that we promised to travel together. For me to doubt the sincerity of his promise now would serve no purpose, especially when - in actual fact, his actions have shown only that he fully understands what I told him and that he knows what he needs to do.

I said before that all those titles were too big for me to hold on my own. I've told him that. He understood. So time to stop complaining. He's my full partner now, like I asked . It's ok if, every now and then, he just chooses to be a silent one.

Moving forward by starting again

"A baby is God's opinion that the world should go on". ~Carl Sandburg

Little Tyke’s absence is turning out to be quite an exercise. Not unexpected but it dawned on me last night that, in the 5 weeks that he’s been gone, I’ve also taken quite a journey of my own. I’ve been through a number of phases that until recently I had just thought of as the natural female emotions that would ensue in a situation such as this. The inevitable surface ripples of the displacement caused by his departure.

So far, I’ve been able to identify two phases for sure and I’m pretty damn certain of a third on the horizon:

Guilty positivity: I’m tempted to divide this into two. Although these ‘sub-phases’ happened in very quick succession, almost blending into each other; they were distinctly different. Different enough, for me to just go with my gut on this and separate the two. Why not?

a) Near-indifference: I say ‘near’ because I was ACUTELY aware of the fact that my son was going to be away from me, from his home, for the longest time ever and that that was a HUGE deal. It made me extremely nervous and I had a sinking suspicion that sadness would, inevitably, not be too far behind. Nonetheless, I was a bit numb to it and secretly glad for the breather.

b) Renewal: The ‘glad for the breather’ part of me morphed into a sense of expectancy and anticipation of all the things I could accomplish without Little Tyke here. Not in a bad way, but kinda like “here’s an opportunity to dedicate myself to putting in the work that’ll build him a Mummy he can be proud of”.

The two affected each other because I, a) had it in my mind that I should be feeling something that I wasn’t, and b) when I did finally start feeling something it wasn’t what (I thought) I should have been feeling. Hence the ‘guilt’.

Definite negativity: This week I was really on the business end of this one; close to being expelled from it and shot out, only to land in an exhausted heap - far, far away from where I started. The past 6days have been a ‘snot en trane’ [snot and tears] fest of note! I feel completely lifeless without him. It was like I finally realised that I had been lying to myself for a month. How could I have ever thought that life would be possible, let alone enjoyable, without him. It all started gradually enough - a small pang, then a general malaise. It just grew and grew until, at the worst of it, I was crying myself to sleep. I missed him unendurably and nothing, noone, could make it better. Fullstop! – Or at least until today.

Thoughtful positivity: This one is really all just riding on a hunch. It hasn’t gotten there yet, but I really feel like it’s going to be the next step. It may even turn out to be a part (a) for this phase *fingers crossed*. I think the very contemplative nature of this one just might push me into “Definite positivity” – which would be (b).

My last post was all about what being a mother has done for me. And like I said, the positives far outweigh the negatives. That’s exactly what I’ve been thinking about today… ‘thinking’ being the operative word. I wasn’t clouded by my heavy emotion on this one. I’ve been thinking about what I’m going to do now that I really truly realize how much I love this little person.

Recent events in the news like the death of little Vanilla Nurse, the Caster Semenya issue, Derrion Alberts in the US, and the Roman Polanski debacle have all had me thinking of how I’d feel if it was my child on the receiving end of all these events. I’ve been thinking about how vulnerable he really is and the fact that, with the world being what it is today, me and Hubby are all that the little guy has really got.

It all got me thinking that unlike Vanilla, Caster, Derrion and Mr Polanski’s victim, Little Tyke hasn’t yet lost anything. He may be far away from me, but when he returns he will still be intact and we’ll be here to take him into our arms and be blessed enough to go on to help him navigate his way through the world. It’s been quite a revelation and so my perspective is slowly beginning to shift. Of course, I still want him back – like today – but I also recognize now so many things that make me look at this time apart as a way to bring me something to look forward to.

I’m looking forward to holding my little boy with a new tightness and looking at him with fresh eyes. A true and resonant acknowledgement of my role in his life and his role in mine. I’m looking forward to using everything that I’ve learned during this time about being a mother to be a better one for him.

Have you got your sandwiches ready?

Wherever a man turns he can find someone who needs him. ~Albert Schweitzer

Saturday, 18 July 2009 was the inaugural Mandela Day. The cause was celebrated all over the world and the point was to 'make an imprint' by dedicating 67 minutes of your time on that day to basically spreading good vibes by helping someone or making some sort of contribution to making the world better. The time would be spent in honour of continuing Nelson Mandela's legacy and remembering the 67 years he spent as a leader, trying to make his country and the world a better place.

I've spoken a few times here about giving of myself and how much I felt I should do that more. When I heard about Mandela Day, I thought this was my opportunity to stop talking about it and BE about it. My idea: to drive the streets of my city with packed sandwiches and give them out to needy people as we came across them. Pretty simple and straight-forward, right?

Anyway, Hubby and I started off at about 12:20 or so and the 67 minutes started ticking. I had it all worked out in my head... we'd get to the city centre and at every traffic light there'd be the usual three or four guys either begging or selling stuff; we'd stop at the red lights and hand out our lovely festively-packaged sandwiches with smiles and salutations all round while we gleefuly shouted "Happy Mandela Day!" as we pulled off, hooting... lol.

But it was not to be...

The experience of Mandela Day was a really big eye-opener for me. I am still amazed at how we agonized about the selection of our beneficiaries. As soon as we got into town, we realised we had no system or real plan. And a lot of questions that we were only now asking ourselves, 20 minutes into our 67!

Would we give to beggars? We decided that maybe we shouldn't because they really weren't desrving. Everyone knows they make a lot of money for doing nothing but standing around looking disshevelled and miserable. But, 30minutes in, we hadn't seen anyone that was deserving so we pulled up at a red light and sure enough, there was this kid... begging.

He couldn't have been older than about 16 or 17, so we decided 'why not' and gave him a sarmy. "Happy Mandela Day!", we said smiling. The kid nodded his head and walked on to the next car... no smile. no thank you. nothing! We were like WTF?!? and I looked back at him in the rearview mirror. The sandwich was gone! I have no idea were he put it, but he stood there, between the two lanes of cars, empty-handed and making sickly little gestures between his stomach and his mouth as he emplored our fellow motorists to pity him with some food.

WoW! I was stunned, but I had to think about what I really expected to happen. Well, I guess I have already answered that question quite early in this blog post. Could I really describe what 'needy' means? I mean, just because that kid was on the hustle and he needed to keep up the appearance of sheer destitution to get any more food, did that mean he didn't need the sandwich? Or maybe he needed something else that I could have given.

That question still forming in my subconscious, we moved into the next neighbourhood. (Now, the South African socio-economic dynamic is so definitive, vivid and palpable that I hope anyone unfamiliar to the country will still follow). Picture an old white neighbourhood with a small mall-type centre and across the road a smaller centre with the old Portuguese-owned take away, post office, habedashery, dry cleaner, little Italian restaurant, etc... Of course, at lunchtime on a Saturday, there is bound to be an assortment of black people sitting scattered across the tiny lawns and their railings... on break from work or looking for work.

We pull into the parking lot and think this is the perfect spot, there's gotta be someone needy here who's not a beggar. And that, my friends, I learned is one of the hardest things you could ever try and do! How do you assess 'need' by just looking at someone? There were so many people there... big mama's talking loud with their friends, domestics with the white babies they've been charged with caring for for the day, men in blue overalls asleep in the sun, the shopping centre security guard, the car guards... And every single one of them, I was sure, needed someone to perform some random act of kindness for them at that moment, but all I had was sandwiches.

All I had was sandwiches.

We drove around, and up & down, and debated... Picking people out and then gultily picking reasons why they weren't the ones. "These sandwiches are pretty rudimentary, so we've gotta give it to someone who won't judge - who's really just, like, starving"; "He looks pretty well-dressed and clean. Won't we come across as arrogant and as thinking that we're better than him?"; "He's obviously got a job, I'm sure he's got money for lunch"; "What if they think we're trying to poison them"; "I can't do it. You go. If you go, they'll be more receptive"; "But I feel so awkward... no, no, I can't. You go".

And so it went until we had been sitting in the parking lot of another centre in the area for about 10 minutes, watching the man who was sweeping up leaves on the sidewalks (not to mention having changed parking spots twice while doing it! lol). Sounds utterly pathetic, I know. Anyway, Hubby just decided to go for it and after a couple of "What do I say"s and "what if"s, he took the sandwich and went off to give it to the guy. Apparently he just gave him a funny look and then thanked him. He watched Hubby walk away for a while before he finally took a sniff of the sandwhich, peeked inside it, and then took a bite.

The first one was the hardest (the beggar doesn't count). We (or I, rather) quickly eased into it and went on to give away all our sandwiches, but one. I changed tack by losing "Happy Mandela Day" and rather explaining what Mandela Day was and why I was giving sandwiches, which elicited much better reactions. The whole experience was thoroughly rewarding. I'm still all about LOVE and I'm so going to make a habit of giving. But, it was also a lesson...

I had this idea that our 67 minutes was going to be a walk-over, but it turned out to be (a mostly agonising) 2 and half hours! I learned that everyone has a story. I learned that all it takes is a little time to get to know someone's story & you would be surprised to learn how much you really can give with what little you've got. We had it in our heads that 'needy' people are out there, like this other sub-species of human with easily identifiable markings. But we are needy too - all of us. Whether you have a roof over your head or live under a newspaper. We all need something, that someone close-by can give. We all need something that someone else has a lot of, like love or a helping hand, or time, or friendship, or even sandwiches. Yes, even sandwiches.

Like the one guy we gave a sandwich to by the train station. He was clearly employed in some sort of hard-labour, but he hadn't eaten all day and he needed that sandwich. Even though all I had was a sandwich... the lesson was, all he needed was a sandwich!

And as we drove off and I saw him bow his head in a silent prayer, it all started to hit home. Of all the sandwiches we gave that day, I only saw that reaction once - but just that one guy... just that one sandwich made it all worth it.

A lesson in love... what I've learned from MJ's life and death

Love is the only sane and satisfactory answer to the problem of human existence. ~Eric Fromm

I've been trawling the web a bit and there's so much on about Michael Jackson's memorial yesterday. I got a sense that a lot of the (online) media was just looking for any little tiny bit of controversy to attach to it all, and I found myself thinking, "Damn! Even in death, they just won't give the man any peace!"


I think for the most part it failed though (at least for right now, in the immediate aftermath). I stood in front of my TV last night, as I caught the last 30 min of the event and I felt something that surprised me. I remember the tears welling up, the moment they started singing "Heal the World". I was stunned by the way that entire crowd of 50 000 people stood there in reverent silence - albeit for just a second - after the song came to an end. I could feel the hearts of literally millions of people around the world as we collectively said goodbye to the greatest entertainer of all time.


MJ has touched so many. I am not ashamed to admit that I am one of the many, but I am ashamed to accept that I didn't even realise until last night, just how much he had touched me personally and the lessons that he has really left behind for the entire world. How sad. How truly and deeply sad the story of MJ has been. This man... adored by millions, villified by many and persecuted by a few. After all is said and done, it's clear that all he ever wanted to be about was love. In that instant after the song had been sung - in those few moments of soul-amplifying silence - it all became so clear. And in that instant, that's ALL it was about. For a few beautiful moments, love was all any of us could feel.


"There will never be another Michael Jackson". I heard that phrase so many times during the course of the memorial, and while I believe it to be true, I don't want it to be so. We need another Michael Jackson in the world. We need another something to unite us, and to bring us all in unison - even for a few moments - back to that state of pure and radiating love, all across the world.


As the human race, we are heading further and further away from each other. As the world gets smaller and smaller, so our outlook becomes narrower. We withdraw deeper and deeper into ourselves. Not looking beyond our own noses, or caring beyond our own issues.


MJ had been trying to tell us for a minute that we've had it all wrong, so now that he's gone will we finally listen? I was moved so deeply yesterday. I felt inspired to do more, to be more, to give more. A valuable lesson, in light of the recent goings on in my life.


The guy has done more than touch a generation, he has touched a consciousness. Anyone who was as shaken as I was by his passing will know exactly what I mean. Once the most famous man in the world, it was his fame that was responsible for the simultaneous love, hate and judgement that has been showered upon him through the years. Did he die an unhappy man, a lonely man? I think about that and I wonder... if that's the case, then shame on the world for bringing that upon him when he has given us so much. Shame on us, when all he ever wanted to be about was love. When all he ever wanted from us was love.


Well, MJ - I hope you finally felt it. Even if it was just for an instant... some random, yet profound moment during yesterday's memorial. I hope you finally felt that love you gave reflected back to you.

R.I.P.

Easy...? Who said it would be easy? (Pt III)

Remember, we all stumble, every one of us. That's why it's a comfort to go hand in hand. ~Emily Kimbrough

So now, after everything and having re-read pt 1 and pt 2 again, I realise that I'm facing the next hurdle in my journey. I have to now learn to draw the line between doing me and doing others wrong.

Things with Hubby are, well... interesting. Although the whole thing hasn't exactly been resolved, we have spoken a bit and I think he's opened up as much as he's going to on the matter. Now, it's time for me to decide my reaction. I'm tempted to be on some, "F*ck it!", but that's not me. I love him and value our marriage way too much. Plus, I realise that we both have our frustrations and we both have things that we're trying to do and to achieve.

I actually feel really tired. The tension has taken a lot out of me, and I want it to be over with already. I need to decide what I want my life to look like and what I've got to do, what I'm prepared to do, to make it so. One thing I know for sure is that I want a life with Hubby in it and I want it to be a happy one... for both of us. I think I know what he needs from me and I guess I need to decide whether I'm ready to make the trade-off, because that's what it will require - some give and take. And as much as I hate to admit it, I've been taking much more than I've given recently.

I suppose I thought that by reclaiming me - sometimes at all costs - I was empowering myself. But which is the me that I was trying to reclaim? In fact, the answer lies in that very word... REclaim, take BACK. I've been trying to hold on to an unmarried, unobligated me, but the (sad) reality of it is things done changed, and they've changed for good! There's no going back, all that's left to do is to move forward.

The disappointment is undeniable. I feel somewhat like I've failed. I thought I had it right! In a way, I think I did. My intentions were honourable, but I just didn't DO it right. And that's my first big lesson on this path... no one is an island and while you must always do it FOR yourself, you can't do it BY yourself. I wanted so bad to be right, and for him to be the immature, over-reacting one. But there is no right and no wrong - there's just us. And in the immortal words of Dr Phil, I need to decide: "Do I want to be right, or do I want to be happy?".

Sigh*

It's good though. It's always good when you learn something, so that's what I'm choosing to take away from this... a lesson in life.

It sure 'nuff ain't easy.

Easy...? Who said it would be easy? (Pt I)

One of the good things that come of a true marriage is, that there is one face on which changes come without your seeing them; or rather there is one face which you can still see the same, through all the shadows which years have gathered upon it. ~George MacDonald

Well, I guess in all fairness, nobody said it would be easy. Nobody said growing up was a breeze, or that marriage was a walk in the park, nor that motherhood would be a piece of cake.

The past couple of months have seen a true change in me. I feel like my eyes are opened wider than they ever have been before; that I am seeing myself, the world... everything, in a way that I never have before. That change has allowed me to begin to recognise and acknowledge all sorts of things within me, which in turn has an effect on everything I do and my every reaction to every situation.

One of those 'situations' is my marriage or - to be specific - one particular incident this past weekend. Briefly, Hubby had made plans to go out on Saturday night as a sort of a trade-off for Sims (BFF) having taken me out the night before and me having asked him to baby-sit (simultaneously causing him to reschedule the plans he had already made for that night to Saturday night - HIS decision, made with the purest and most admirable of intentions... of that I'm sure. Plans, I might add, that I knew nothing about before asking).

Anyway, back to Saturday - Sims is over at the house after last night's jol, I invite the Usual Suspects [my crew of boys, and an assortment of good lady friends that I see a lil less often than the boys]. Hubby's plans fall through... "bummer, but at least he can still have a good time at home". At this point, the 'party' is already in full swing - everybody's having a bomb-ass time and I assumed Hubby was too.

Cut to midnight, one, two o'clock - I notice a progressive change in mood in Hubby. A couple of times, I go into the bedroom and he's there, head-in-hand, or laying on the bed staring up at the ceiling. I walk in, ask what's wrong. The first time I get told that there's nothing wrong. The second time, it's a little more serious. He's not feeling too good, but he's not sick or tired or feeling bad physicallly. "What can I do, Baby", I ask. Admittedly, the sounds of conversation and music in the other room was beckoning me, but I still cared about what Hubby was feeling. Really I did.

Anyway, I'm then told that there's not really anything I can do. He can't explain what's wrong or know how to fix it. I push a little bit more, but he's not willing to speak about it, so I leave it - I let him know I really care and I'm worried - but I leave it. Next moment, I'm back in the party - BTW, at this point the majority of people have left and it's just Sims, her man and her brother, and LB - my 'adopted' little brother (subject for another blog post). Anyway, I'm back and sitting with LB, jamming out to some hip-hop and Sims comes into the room, on some, "Your man is LEAVING, girl!".

Oh, just before that Hubby came in and took his laptop and some work files, then told me he'd see me later. Probably stupidly, and not very intuitively, I just assumed he was going to do some work in the bedroom. Meanwhile, he was packing his shit in the car and about to drive off! So I go rushing out to the car and stop him - all dramatic like. lol

(I'm really trying to keep this short and digestible, but it's really hard, so eish... bear with me.)

Long story short, he just has to go, can't talk about why, but he needs to be at the office - he'll call when he arrives, keep his phone on at all times, and let me know when he's leaving. So again, I leave it. I'm troubled, but I have guests and they really are some of my favourite, funnest friends, so I leave it. LB goes home, Sims and crew and I all go to bed and I wake up in the morning as Hubby is getting out of bed.

So now, in the sober light of day, I'm like "WTF!!!" . "Like, really. What just happened?". I thought I did everything that could be reasonably expected to handle that situation like an adult. So why did I not get adult behaviour back, or did I?

I just didn't know what to make of it. I think Hubby and I are a bit of an odd pair, because we are extremely similar. We are both very sensitive souls. Our hearts rule our heads and that's just a fact. But we are not fiery and tempestuous. We feel deep within and avoid conflict. And yet, while we are both that way, we are both that way for very different reasons.

It's so intoxicatingly paradoxical! There is serious attraction for me in the concept of two people being so alike and yet so different... BUT, I digress.

Anyway, this situation had me stumped. I have made real progress over the past two months in figuring ME out. Just me on my own. Now, I am being faced more and more with getting to know and own me in the world. (Hmm... rings a bell).

Ok, now I'm taking this in a different direction. I didn't expect that.

-----------
PAUSE!
-----------

This is a part 2-worthy blog post, if ever there was one.

To be continued...

At last...

To forgive is to set a prisoner free and discover that the prisoner was you. ~Lewis B. Smedes, "Forgiveness - The Power to Change the Past," Christianity Today, 7 January 1983

Almost a full month since my last post... I've actually been drafting this post for the last week. Well, not this post exactly, but what was to be my next post. Today, I just started typing and looks like I'm gonna just have to throw all the past week's work away.

Why? Because it just doesn't apply any more.

Yesterday, I get a facebook message from X (long, long story - but basically a former bf. My first love and my first - and only - paradigm-shifting, earth-shattering heartbreak).

He’s growing his business empire and needs some branding and communication work done for his businesses. Just my game, so I’m like “sure, let’s meet”, what happened thereafter took place so quickly that, amidst the excitement of the idea of an extra paying job, it didn't totally register. All I knew was one moment I was minding my own business, and the next… there I was, facing the prospect of coming face to face with a man that I hadn’t seen in two years, or had a conversation with in close on five years. Not to mention the six-year-long tumultuous story that is our history.

Whoa!

I remember getting home after running errands all morning, and thinking to myself “Am I ready for this? Really ready?” The guy’s arriving in twenty minutes and I’m this close to pulling out my phone and calling him to say something had come up and I couldn’t meet with him! Had I had his phone number, I might actually have done that.

I was overcome by the urge to do something, anything to show him that I was doing okay. Clean the house up, mop the floor, buy some filter coffee so I wouldn’t offer him my usual instant stuff - anything. Luckily (and you’ll understand why in a moment), my morning schedule had left me no time for such preparations. So I just sucked it up.

Right on time - 12:59 on the dot, a knock on the door. It could only be him. I get up from my chair and to the front door. And I hesitate… for one painful moment, my heart starts palpitating as I clumsily try to find the key for the exterior security gate.

Deep breath...!

I open the door, and instinctively avoid more than a fleeting moment of solid eye-contact. I try to sound as nonchalantly pleasant as possible as I greet with a familiar, “heey!” while unlocking the security gate.

I turn around to lead him into the house, and every fibre in my being is screaming “Bad IDEA!!!”. But I catch myself with a stern “this is business!”, as I turn back around to lock up behind him. “Let’s go into the office”, I say. I lead him in, he takes a seat and pulls out the non-disclosure agreement he brought for me to sign. I smile a little on the inside… so typical of him. He’s always been paranoid and reluctant to trust. No surprise he’s still the same in business.

I make myself comfortable, secretly thanking the universe for her mysterious ways. If I hadn’t been so busy all morning, I would’ve responded to his facebook requests for my email address in time for him to send the agreement ahead of time and give me a chance to go through it before we met. As I read through the document, I breathe a huge sigh of relief and say a silent thanks for those few extra minutes to just centre myself and regain control. Luckily, that was not a difficult task.

The rest of the meeting went well. His plans and ideas all sound great, and it’s a fantastic project for our little company to get involved in. Huge potential for growth. On the business side, it really was a welcome highlight of the past month. But that will be the subject of another post.....

This little preamble creates the context for the point of today’s blog post. It’s all about how far I’ve come in my life. I can scarcely believe that, not more than 5 or 6 years ago, I could have never handled such a meeting.

At this moment, I pause… trying to find the words to describe what my relationship with this man has meant, done, been and represented in my life. In fact, the words do not exist. It was so intense, so entrenched, that it is impossible to describe. Point being, there was a time when I thought I would never get over it. There was a time when I could not see (no matter how far into the future I tried to look) a stage in my life when I would not still think of him, miss him, hate him, love him; when his memory and the memory of our time ‘together’ would not haunt my every waking moment.

That’s what it was.

That said, yesterday I proved to myself, beyond the shadow of a doubt, that I am infinitely stronger than I ever thought or imagined I could be. I could not believe how unaffected I was. Apart, of course, from my initial nervousness - I felt total calm. There was nothing there. Not the intense anger or consuming sorrow, the bitter resentment or even the souldeep hurt that I thought I would carry with me for all my days. Just complete neutrality.

In between the business talk, there were moments when I would look at him - almost staring, straight into his eyes - searching for something... an inkling, a reminder of all of that heavy emotion that has always accompanied my interactions with him, whether in my mind or face-to-face. But there was nothing there! I felt like I was staring my greatest demon in the eye, facing off for the final deciding show-down. Victory was mine!

I looked at him as simply another human being. I felt no less respect for him than I would for anyone else that I have known for as long, like an old friend or family member. I can’t express what it meant to me to know that that one element of my past did not have the hold on me that I had feared it would.

How empowering to know that we can rise above the circumstances of our lives; that the human spirit triumphs - always; that as long as we are willing to accept and (more importantly) learn from the hard lessons that life throws our way, we will always be more than the sum of our experiences.

Though this may sound like utter rambling, I need to really put across – in the most concrete of terms - what a watershed this moment this was for me. In my 27 years of life. In all my existence, this moment stands out as one of the most positive realisations I have ever, ever... ever had!

Forgiveness, at last. Freedom, at long last!

To be free - truly free of the binds of one’s past; to separate one’s being from the events that have shaped it, is a quest that few of us ever truly master. And I have finally and conclusively seen that it really is possible. Really and truly possible.

Forgiveness at last.

FREEDOM AT LONG LAST.

"After everything that we’ve been through, I just want you to know that I still love you/ Want you to know that I forgive you (thank you for teaching me how to give)/ And I wanna let you know how much you changed my life/ I wanna let you know you taught me how to fly/ And I wrote this song to tell you this/ I’m better ‘cause you taught me how to give.
I took a swim in the sea of guilt and misery/ To find myself on an island in the middle of nowhere/ In my solitude I asked to know the highest truth/ And what I was told is to thine own self be true.
If Jesus can forgive crucifixion/ Surely we can survive and find a resolution.
Let’s keep it Moving/ Let’s shake free this gravity of resentment and fly high/ You’re only human/ Let’s shake free this gravity of judgement and fly high on the wings of forgiveness".
©
- India.Arie ~ Wings of Forgiveness "Testimony Vol. 1 Life & Relationships"