Just Write {183}

Lately there is a moment by moment practice of letting go. It is exhausting, but less exhausting than not letting go. It’s like the difference between doing some yoga and moving on, or running a marathon without ever stopping.

I feel off around here, not sure of what to write, when to write, always that feeling of coming up short. Like it’s impossible to take the time, and when I do, I just sit and stare, let go again and move on. Namaste.

I can say that the depths of pain that are the crux of divorce will do this. These depths will require a constant practice of letting go, and a desperate need to remember that no matter what it feels like, or what wrongs have been wronged, the path can be clean again, one day.

I wrote something about it all, and haven’t shared it anywhere, but what came out of me was this: What really happened, and where those choices were coming from, will never be seen by two people in the same way. Even in the most amicable of divorces, the most beautiful “conscious uncoupling”, there are perspectives so sure, and incredibly opposing, and maybe that is just more proof of the inability to be married well at all.

To figure out how to move forward while accepting the differences is much more complicated than one can imagine. I mean, you’ve been fighting to get on the same page for years and years and then suddenly it is best to not try that at all. There is no same page. There are volumes of different pages, and a great temptation to rewrite and rewrite and rewrite until it feels better. So you both rewrite and it is all wrong.

We all change the story.

Today is a new day, with the promise of seventy degrees and finally, finally, no wind. I was driving the kids to school and daycare and hope bubbled up next to my heart and knocked because of their banter and sticking up hair. There was a flash of a moment so intensely freeing that I nearly cried. And the crying would not be a new thing, because lately the tears come all the time, born of less freedom and more fear, I guess. But I tasted a bit of Future. I tasted a time of staying right in that moment and being free of all the processing and the trying to come to terms and the need to be seen, to just be seen, as a person with sorrow too, and joy, and one that is just as accepted and forgiven as the next, believe it or not.

We have all done things that got in the way of the patient path that was meant for us. It is almost always born of pain, not of an evil heart.

It will take time for me to figure out how to free myself. How to grasp the freedom that is already been mine, the gift I keep fighting off on account of wanting something I can’t have. The same page. But I can get there, I know, because it’s real and I tasted it and God has never left me to only cry. I’ve been carried before, and that has only come when I quit kicking.

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This is the 183rd installment of Just Write, an exercise in free writing your ordinary and extraordinary moments. {New here? Please see the details.} I would love to read your freely written words so join me and link up below. You can add the url of your post at any time. Just be sure it’s a link to your Just Write post, not to your main page. (Then link back to this post in your Just Write post so people know where to go if they’d like to join in.) (Any links not following those two guidelines will be deleted.)

Also. Please take a moment to visit someone else who has linked up! It’s a really good way to meet new writers and get inspired by the meaning behind their moments. Word?