A year. It has been a year.
It has been a year since my last post. The worst year of my life. Maybe the best too. Time will tell I suppose.
My marriage ended. That's the short of it. The long of it is too much to bear, and to much to bare. I have spent months wanting to write, but not being able to bring myself to remove the word "wife" from my profile-- because I don't feel single. Single feels like 20, no kids, no mortgage, no worries, and here I am pushing 30, two beautiful babies stuck in this hell that is divorce, a mortgage I can't even dream of paying and more worries than I even knew existed when I was 20. Or 27. But life changes fast.
I am endlessly blessed. I won't pretend I'm any less, it would be unfair to my family, friends, children, my God. I have been supported, lifted up, cheered up, and blessed beyond measure.
And yet.
It's a new chapter. I am nobody's wife. That still seems strange, even though I haven't really had a husband for quite sometime. The concept still stuns me and makes me a little sad, a little disoriented, but it also means I get to figure out who I am again. And at 29, it is...different.
I am a mother. I am a daughter. I am a sister. I am a friend, although I have not done those things the justice in the last year that they deserve. Who I am, in relationship to the people I love, gives me a focal point, a point of reference, an effulgent constellation of guiding stars, giving me the rest of the sky in which to stage my next act.
We'll call it "The Phoenix."
You can call me Betty
- Elizabeth
- Modesto, California, United States
- I believe in God and truth and beauty and love. I dance in my kitchen and cry while I do the dishes.
2 comments:
Hello Sweetheart... beautifully expressed and I know because I've been there... and to somewhere much worse recently. (I am going to email your Mum and she will tell you.x)
Here's the thing... you are allowed to dwell in this phoenix stage, no-one expects you to be doing anything else other than gently working your way through the tangle of transformation. It's hard, ugly and sometimes (often) kind of beautiful... you really do get to know yourself.
This then is where your life begins, now the mourning isn't quite as vicious. I promise.x
Thank you so much, Alison, for your sweet words and encouragement. I don't have internet at home right now, so I had to come to Mom's to respond, although she is, at this very moment, preparing to depart for Paris.
I am headed over to your blog to catch up on your life now. Exhausting, this existing business, isn't it?
On y va.
XO
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