Post-Thanksgiving holiday and a trip back east gave me plenty of opportunities to test the places I have looked within and healed. As I sit here writing this now, I am ready to share one that brought me sadness and deep understanding.
My ex-husband and I are still healing from a long divorce. We were not the couple who “consciously uncoupled”. In fact, we did all but that. At times, I just may have been unconscious or simply wished I was. It still is all a blur. There were many people involved, trials, money spent, and a lot of pain for the entire family.
It has been almost 10 years since we walked down that path and 7 years since the divorce was finalized, but it has been a rough journey. The funny thing about the final declaration of divorce is that it doesn’t magically whisk away all the hurtful words and actions. It is all legal, end stop. It was not until a year ago that we would begin to find a way to spend time together for our family. Now that I am living in California, my three girls in NYC and my son at college in Southern California, I wanted to try and change the way we spent holidays. This is again where the story around how time is split post-divorce is quite honestly messed up. And now our children are grown. I decided to propose that we try and find a way to all be, at least, in the same location. After a couple of practice runs my ex-husband has been kind enough to share his New York City apartment and his home in the Hamptons with me when I came to spend time with our kids. I greatly appreciate his hospitality but I have found that it comes at a cost. Each time I evaluated what that meant for me.
The most recent stay was Thanksgiving. I had come a few days early to take care of some things for myself, hair, dentist, a trip to my favorite mystic store, and my girls and I enjoyed dinners in the city. I always love being back in the city for a few days especially as the holiday season begins. Then I shopped for Thanksgiving dinner for the eight of us and got everything ready to take out to the Hamptons.
I had also come to help my ex-husband who was having surgery the day before Thanksgiving. The morning of his surgery, I went with him and waited 3.5 hours until he went in. It didn’t seem like a big thing to offer my assistance. I was working in medicine when he and I met thirty-plus years ago. It was a very early check-in at the hospital and although he made a few comments I was not up for conversation. I was just the companion. The morning involved waiting and staff coming in and out to ask him questions. I quietly sat in the chair looking out at the east river wondering which coffee place I wanted to stop at and if our daughter’s new 6-month-old puppy would be able to wait to go out. The most amusing part of the morning was seeing the numerous ways my ex-husband explored to introduce me.
In the waiting, I began to think about all the times I had been in hospitals. Most of the time alone. Memories from childhood, throughout my pregnancies, a 9-hour back surgery, breast implants and then removal. I wasn’t able to think about what it all meant or why I was remembering them at this time. I couldn’t see that I was going into my protective mode. The place where I would tell myself I was strong and didn’t need anyone. I could do it on my own. I did not slow down and take a breath. But here I was making sure that my ex-husband’s needs were taken care of and that he had a comfortable trip home after surgery. I even made sure there was a pillow and blanket in the SUV that picked him up. It’s what I do. Take care of others.
Thanksgiving day came and went quickly. I was happy that we were all together but I was exhausted. The next few days went by and I burned through much of my palo santo in my attempt to keep the energy clear. Calm my energy. Attempt to keep the energy in the house moving. I did find laughter when I went into my ex’s room to smudge and he asked me what I was doing, then reminded me he hadn’t consented. He isn’t that interested in my spirituality and rituals. But here is where the man lying in bed not even 24-hrs post-surgery and couldn’t do much but smell the palo santo and wait for me to bring him more coffee.
I still found myself crying, frustrated and at times struggling to find my breath. I was stopping to try and find my balance many times throughout the day. At least I thought I was. I made up the story that I was tired from cooking, but really I was trying to please everyone and the interactions with my ex-husband were all wearing on me.
It wasn’t long before things started to go off. The confusing piece was that I have gotten to a place where I can see the old patterns and not allow myself to believe the old stories. I could see when I was being faced with an old thinking pattern and how to move in a new direction. The chaos that was starting to elevate within me I knew only I could create. By Friday, I was ready to head back to the city with one of my daughters and let my ex-husband know I was no longer able to assist him. He didn’t mind.
I returned to the city with the puppy, who I adore, and we spent the next 18 hours together. We snuggled in bed that night and fell asleep to the quiet of the apartment. The lights of NYC outside. Calm. Peaceful. I have forgotten how much a precious animal can offer to you and not ask for anything in return. The next few days I spent helping my daughters put the finishing touches on their apartment before flying back to LA. I would miss my children but was ready to be alone and try to figure out why I was still out of sorts.
The past few months I have felt my beach bungalow is no longer where I am supposed to be. Each time it feels smaller. When I returned after this trip I was having a hard time. Different from other times. I tried meditation, prayer, hiking, and lots of palo santo. None of it was working.
I decided to reach out to a friend and during the conversation, she asked me how I felt. It took me a few turns around the circle of aversion to say, sad. I feel sad. It then came pouring out. I felt sad for different reasons. That there had been times of fighting and that my family is still working on finding its rhythm. That my ex-husband continues to show up in ways that I no longer will join him. But the deepest sadness was seeing the mirrors of disconnection, the way I had been disassociated and disembodied 30 years ago when I met my ex-husband. This was the first time I was seeing myself clearly. Then and now. I was a shell that knew only how to survive, but now I am in my fullness. It was right in front of me all along. This has been my medicine journey. Now it was time for forgiveness, again. And to allow myself the space to let the sadness move within me, clearing and burning away all that remained. I was claiming all that I am at this moment. This is the shadow that so many fear but holds so much in its light.
I share this today as an invitation to slow down in moments such as these and see if you can find the places where you may have forgotten who you were. Places where you were so lost, that it was easier to stop looking. To forgive yourself over and over again if needed. To practice prayer or meditation. To practice expressing your feelings. To ask for help. This is not easy for most of us. Many of us think we are to do it on our own. It is all a practice. I am not going to tell you it is easy. That it is one and done. I know we would prefer it that way but it requires patience and again, practice. Practice. Practice. Just trust me here.
I am certain I will discover more and there will be times when I again will become restless. But with each of these deep healings, I begin to find new places within me that feel safe. The sadness now feels different. I am able to return to a place that I am remembering each day. A place of pure joy!
