Sunday, April 8, 2007

I think I had a nightmare.

... but I'm even more scared that it wasn't one.

OK. Here I go. I don't know how many months or posts or comments (or whatever successful blogs are measured in) mine is going to last. All I know is that I have this jumbling chaos in my soul that needs to be organized by writing about it. When I've given every thought, emotion, and question it's place in the library of my mind, maybe I'd be able to make sense of everything.

And maybe someone else might benefit from it as well.

About the nightmare. It wasn't one. The abundance of evidence - silent witness to what happened during the time I was asleep. Maybe the absence of evidence is a better description. Everything is so painfully neat and silent. No toys scattered on the carpet, no bicycle abandoned on the lawn, no high-pitched children's voices coming from a room deeper into the house.

But even more chilling was the empty pillow next to mine when the realization broke through my numbed existence. It's been lying there unused for the past 7+ years. Why then do I say it as if I only realized this morning that my husband is gone? Maybe because it took me all that time to be able to say it. And it does not mean I'm coming to terms with it. But then again, maybe it does! They say the first step to solving your problem is admitting you had one.

So dear blog, here is my problem. I'm childless. I'm divorced. I'm waking up from a long, deep, numbing sleep. And the pain is more excruciating than I could ever imagine.

I refuse to go back to sleep. I've missed too much of living. The only way out and onward is to get through this. To face every dead dream, mourn it, bury it, and decide what to do with the memories...

1 comment:

pluto said...

Those are horrible feelings. But if you can describe them so vividly (and movingly, by the way), that seems like a great sign. You must be leaving your numbness way behind you, as you said. It does sound like an awakening!