Always the Way

Wednesday, 2 September 2009

Funny how these things happen. The first two years after my marriage broke up I was desperate to be ready for another relationship. It seems almost insane to me now, really. What was I thinking? A crazy trying to get away from myself, from this churned up, busted part of me that was in pieces, in a way it's never been before. I wanted to be whole and shiny and ready. It was a form of insanity, really, and a terror. No wonder the dynamic of the rebound is so tempting to so many. An easy short cut, something to throw yourself into to forget your grief, shove it on down.

There was a crazy white-eyedness that came with the break-up of my relationship on the tail of being ill for so many years. I was bowed down double with grief and guilt, leaving the man who stood by me all those years. Oh, boy. But I had to go. I had to crawl away into a cave, by myself. I had to. Oh, boy. The guilt, the guilt.

I have been not afraid to die over these years. I would have welcomed it. More than once or twenty times I have cried out for an ending. Now is another sort of fearlessness to re-cultivate. One of not being afraid to live. You cannot have one without the other. Much of Christendom has taught differently, and many rich Christians think that this is what it is all about. But the way of life through death is exactly what Christ teaches. He knows how deep it all goes. He knows the gold swells out the ends of dead threads, that death has lost its sting. That life always comes after death.

Something has shifted in my self image. Perhaps I have finally forgiven myself for not being perfect :\ Now, it is not beyond the realms of possibility to look in the mirror and think that someone somewhere could love me. Maybe even will. After all, it's happened before, I'm sure it can happen again. I am, after all, quite lovable :) And yet, as is always the way, now that I can consider the idea of a man in my life, I am really not all that interested! Always the way.

It is amazing, the time factor. Some things you think will gape open forever. I guess some things do, with a bit of puckering along the sides as the years pass and the shock and numbness wear off. This wound is a sharp slice from the sharpest knife. The tears that came out of that wound filled several Olympic sized swimming pools surely. I still cry. I am not sure that all of those tears are not coming out of a series of joined-together wounds, all stretching way back into my childhood. They are not going away. They are a part of me and they belong in my body, in my life, like stretch marks, from the good and bad choices and the occurrences beyond my control. The tears that have flowed out from those spaces have oiled the way for a greater compassion to come from there, too. And for the light to get in.


  1. Hugs to you, fine honest soul, and continued, deep healing.

    And thanks for the Leonard Cohen:)



  2. Wonderful, wonderful post - and one of my very favourite Cohen songs. The line about the crack in everything where the light gets in just fills my eyes with tears every time...

  3. thanx for sharing that song

    bathe in the light
    vit D for the soul

  4. Great post Sue. Most healing is of the slow progressive variety rather than **shazzam**!!, I'm healed. You're evidently getting closer to your destination - congrats!

    Thanks for that shot of Leonard :) I needed an anthem tonight.

  5. Harry - thank you, kind sir!!

    Mike - thank you, kind sir! It is an amazing line, isn't it :)

    Kel - ahh, yeah, vitamin D for the soul. Definitely :) Ain't it nice, these lengthening days. Happy spring to ye, sister.

    Norm - yes, it's so slow it seems like it's not happening sometimes, doesn't it? Until you look back and ... wow!


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