Feed Your Soul

This has been a challenging week. It has been a long time since I've been in such a dark place - four years to be exact. I fought my way out of that darkness, and many dark places prior, but each time it happens, it feels as though it will never get better. I will never be myself again. 

I don't know how to describe depression to someone who has never experienced it. There's a sense of heaviness - an almost physical pressure on my entire body. It weighs me down. It dulls my senses. Nothing tastes good. Nothing feels good. Colors fade and my world becomes monochromatic - mostly shades of grey. I feel disconnected from everyone and everything around me. I can be sitting across from someone, listening to them talk, yet I really don't feel like I'm there. I laugh when I'm supposed to, but inside I fight back tears. And those tears...there are so many of them. For everything. For nothing. For the fact that I want the pain to go away.

I've felt this brewing inside me since July. It started as a weird, fleeting thought. I passed it off as me being stressed. The sadness would creep in, but I was able to push it away. Stuff it down inside and go on with life. I shouldn't be surprised that it finally reared its ugly head last week. Nothing that strong can stay down forever. 

In this last week, I've had a chance to think about my life and how I've been handling things. It turns out that pushing aside those red flags and stuffing your emotions away is not the way to go - shocking, right? I realized that I spent a lot of time trying to be happy, and trying to make others believe I was happy. I was looking for outside validation to fill some of the emptiness I felt inside. But it doesn't work. Sure, for a short time it does, but it doesn't last very long...and then I'm left feeling emptier.

No one, not even my family, can do that. Sure, they can support me through this, but they can't fill the emptiness and insecurities for me. I have to do that myself.

I need to find my own way, heal my own emptiness, feed my own soul.

That is just what I intend to do.

This Girl

This girl. The one with the lopsided pigtails. The one with the slightly crooked smile. I miss her. Sure, parts of her still exist within me. Her innocence. Her curiosity. Her empathy. And her innate need to always root for the underdog. Those things will never change.

But other things do change. It's inevitable...

I look at her face - smiling and proud - and I want to tell her so much. Be careful. Love hard, but protect your heart. Trust, but not too much. But maybe those are lessons we need to learn through experience. Maybe she needs to feel the pain and the loss in order to...what? Be who I am today? I smile, but not as much as I used to. I laugh, but sometimes I hesitate. I think way too much. I dissect people's words and try to decipher meanings when I should just accept them and the feelings they bring me.

These are the changes within me that I don't like, the ones I've been forced to face. The ones I'm working on reversing. It is difficult, and I truly have to work at it. The first time I caught myself laughing after my marriage ended was the strangest sound. It had been so long that I almost didn't recognize myself. Living in the moment is hard when you're waiting for the other shoe to drop. I tell Griffin every day to love hard. Take the risk because the benefits are so worth it! But I am not so good at taking my own advice. I hide behind my fear of rejection and my fear of not being good enough for someone again...and I hide behind my books, and writing, and words. It's safe here. But it's not what I want.

I want the laughs that come from your toes. I want to believe what people tell me. I want to shut off my brain and live in the moment. I want to open my heart and love hard, and not worry about rejection.

I'm a work in progress - we all are, really. It will take time and some work, but I have faith I will get there. And when I do...this girl will be whole again.

All the Feels

When Griffin was around three-years old, I used to say that he felt every feeling 100 percent. Love, anger, joy, sadness. Whatever he was feeling, it coursed through every fiber in his little body. I guess I shouldn't be surprised...he is my child after all, and I was the same way.

I guess I still am.

I don't know what it was about today, but man, I felt all the feelings. Maybe because it was a Saturday without Griffin, which meant that my house was silent. Believe me, I have plenty to do. There's writing, and laundry, and going to the gym. I have about a hundred books sitting in my bookcases that have yet to be read. I still have boxes in my garage that need to be unpacked. Keeping busy isn't the issue. The issue is when I stop being busy. The issue is when the sun starts to set and the silence takes over.

I went outside today to get the mail, and I was dreading it. Why? Because it was gorgeous out there - the sun was just beginning to set, and the sky was this amazing burst of orange, pink, and blue. The temperature was mild. I could smell burning leaves in the distance. I actually stopped on my driveway and thought This is the kind of night that's supposed to be spent with someone. And I'm not going to lie - it hit me. Hard.

I know I've said it before, but it's the truth - the last five years have been a roller coaster. I spent the first three trying to save a marriage that never stood a chance. I realized that the only thing that could be saved was myself, so that's what I did. Over the last two years I started to write again. I rekindled old friendships. I laughed - oh my God, I laughed! I finally feel like a whole person.

And yet the smell of burning leaves makes me start to cry.

I'm embarrassed to admit that there's a void in my life. I miss having someone. I've had five years to prove to myself that I can be alone. I can take care of myself (and Griffin). But I don't want to be alone anymore. But I know that nothing is guaranteed. Maybe I had my chance. Maybe I should just feel lucky that I experienced love once...even though it ended horribly. Maybe I shouldn't be selfish and try to find it again.

But maybe I should believe in second chances. And maybe...just maybe I'll find someone who doesn't mind that the colors of the setting sun or the smell of burning leaves make me cry.

Time To Go Home

Where do I even start? I sat down to write this and I immediately felt rusty. Out of shape. Like I'd been in some sort of writing hibernation for the last few years. I guess that was the case. I wrote a couple of posts during all the turmoil, but my heart wasn't in it. Neither was my head, really. I've decided that it's time to start fresh. So here I am...

So here's the deal: I got divorced over the Summer. Sounds simple, right? Actually, signing my name on the official papers wasn't nearly as traumatic as I anticipated, but that was only because of the three years leading up to that moment. I'm not here to blame anyone or rehash the details, because in the end, it doesn't really matter. In the end, two people know what went wrong, and we each have our burdens to carry and our hearts to heal. I'm only discussing this because I've been away from my writing for way too long, and oh how I love to write. But I put it aside - completely ignored it in fact - because of everything going on in my life. I sacrificed it in order to fix a marriage that could never be repaired.

So yeah, divorce. It's not the easy way out that so many people think. Maybe for some people it is, but I think those situations are rare. I've heard people say that going through a divorce is like a death. It sounds kind of silly, but it's true. I grieved. I am grieving. I'm grieving the loss of my marriage, my best friend, my family. I'm grieving the loss of the person I used to love - because he now no longer resembles that man at all. I'm grieving what used to be, what was supposed to be, and what should have been.

When I signed that piece of paper that legally ended my marriage, a piece of me died. I know that sounds melodramatic, but hear me out. It's not what you think. I'm not talking about being so closely entwined with someone that your life is over. I mean an actual part of me - of my spirit - died. Ask my family, or anyone that knew me as a kid. I always believed in the good in people. I always trusted. I never thought anyone would intentionally hurt me. Naïve? Possibly. Maybe no one should go through life having blind faith in another human being. I did, though. I liked that about myself. That's the part of me that died...and I really hate that. I feel different, like I'm trying to adjust to a missing limb. I'm trying to find my balance and learn how to maneuver through each day.

So what does this all have to do with writing? The divorce, and the three years of turmoil leading up to it, have become the proverbial elephant in the room. I've tried to sit down and write, but I can't see past it. I think I needed to face it head on. I spent three years putting everything into saving my marriage, and in that time I ignored so much. I ignored myself and my writing. But that stops now.

It hasn't been easy, and as much as I'd like it to, it's not going to magically go away. I will continue to grieve and make my way out of this pit slowly but surely.

And I will continue to write.