WTF is Good Grief?
Good Grief. Actually I can’t imagine why we say that. I’d much rather say hard as fuck, knock me on my ass grief. It’s back again. It’s been hitting me a lot lately. So unpredictable. So not fun.
My soon to be ex found out today that he was accepted into Divinity school and that he received a scholarship covering 60% of his tuition. This is a big deal for him. He is laying the foundation for a dream he’s had for decades. I am happy for him and actually I’m happy for me. I’m relieved that we don’t have to have hard conversations about work, income, household responsibilities and all the other big and little things that will come with his returning to school.
If I am happy for him and happy for me, why can’t I stop crying? I just keep thinking that he found out the news and he sent an email to all the people who matter. I was on that email. But he didn’t call me. He didn’t text me. I wasn’t first. I was just one of many. I tried to call him in response to his email but it went to voicemail. I replied to the email with lots of accolades. His response was curt. I am no longer #1. I am nobody’s #1.
I’m trying to just be my own #1. My heart isn’t fooled though. I ate really healthy food today. I didn’t have any alcohol. I got sleep and plenty of exercise. I went to a restorative yoga class tonight. I came home and took a hot shower.
I thought I would be sending myself a loving message by going to restorative yoga. I don’t usually make time for it. I enjoyed the active tension release during the first half of class, but when we laid down in savasana for 30 minutes, I thought I was going to come out of my skin. There’s nothing like lying on your back when you’re supposed to be deep in meditation but instead doing everything you can not to let your sobs be audible. When we finally sat up, the tissue between my eyes and the eye pillow was destroyed. Oops, that eye pillow wasn’t protected.
There is nothing I can do to tame the feelings. Eating and hating on my body doesn’t work. Drinking doesn’t work. Exercise doesn’t work. Hanging out with girlfriends doesn’t work. Building a business doesn’t work. Sleeping doesn’t work. Going to church doesn’t work. Writing doesn’t work. Meditation doesn’t work. I seriously wished I would get get killed in an auto accident as I was driving home from the Y.
I’m trying to remind myself that I wasn’t happy in my marriage either. We had happy times, but the unhappy times outweighed the happy. My husband held onto some pretty deep anger for years. I never could make enough progress to meet his requests. It was discouraging. It felt like begging to be wanted. The girl who wants nothing more than to be wanted spent the past 15 years with a man who didn’t want her. Go figure.
Maybe I’m grieving far more than a marriage coming apart. Maybe I’m grieving the loss of a dream. The dream that I could be perfect enough to make someone love me unconditionally. The dream that someone else could make me whole. The dream that if two people are smart enough and love each other enough, they can make it through anything. My head knows better, but my heart has held fast to these dreams. I can’t think my way into healing, so I guess I’ll keep on grieving until my heart knows the truth.