The Leaves are Dying. And So Am I

It's been almost two years to the date that I was awestruck by a beautiful tree changing leaves and wrote a blog about it.  Two years ago I was full of grief over the impending death of my mother. Today, I am full of grief over the death of my marriage.

Today is, was, I hoped would be, would have been my 23 year wedding anniversary. Maybe it still was since the judge hasn't officially stamped the marital dissolution papers yet. (Isn't that such a polite term for such a horrid thing?) It doesn't matter either way, the marriage is over. I have been told it many times. It's just taken me almost three months to believe it myself. Almost 23 years of believing we'd be the old people telling our kids and grandkids to just love each other and make it work vs three months of being told it's over and can't be fixed. The cruise we'd been planning to celebrate 25 years is never going to happen.

Here, sign these papers and walk away.

I haven't been sleeping well these past few months and I refuse to take sleeping pills. Mostly because I still have six kids depending on me and I need to be alert for them. But also because there have been a few times I wouldn't trust myself with those pills in the house.

Last night was no exception. I was exhausted from another round of bronchitis and an extremely busy day, yet I woke up at 4am with a version of a recurring bad dream I've had since the beginning of all this. And I sat there in the dark and cried. I finally fell back asleep, and woke up at 7:30am still crying. A couple of the younger kids crawled into bed with me then and their love calmed me down enough to help me face this day.

As the rain cleared later this morning, I walked outside and saw the tree in our front yard. Obviously I see the tree everyday and it must have been changing colors for the past week. But today it really hit me. It really was beautiful. And it really is dying.

I remembered the dharma talk from two years ago where I learned that a tree changing colors is really a tree that is dying for the winter. And once again I started to cry. I feel like that tree. I, too, am dying in preparation for this winter.

Logically I know that no matter how brutal a winter we have or how difficult an adjustment I will have in my new life, I do know that spring will eventually come again. New buds will bloom and life will return.

Many around me have told me eventually I will also re-bloom more vibrantly and colorful than before. I believe them. Mostly. I just can't see it myself yet. I have no idea what my new life will look like or even what I want it to look like. I've been focused on one vision for 23 years. I don't yet know how to change that vision.

Right now I'm dying inside and instead of dropping leaves I'm dropping tears. I don't feel beautiful like the tree. I feel ugly, sad and unwanted.

Spring feels like a long time away.

Rolf Me, Baby

Tonight I got rolfed. And oh baby it hurt so good!

Rolfing is a type of deep tissue massage that manipulates the myofascial tissue to bring the body into proper alignment, create efficient use of muscles and release pent up tension and emotion.

It's a really DEEP massage. A "is this supposed to hurt" massage? A "yes I am breathing" massage. A "am I going to be able to walk again" type massage?

I've been having trouble with an impingement in my traps and rhomboids for a little while now. It was causing me some minor pain and a weird burning sensation. But most of all I'd lost a lot of flexibility in my right shoulder. Where six months ago I could grasp fingers together on both sides of go mukhasana (cow face pose), all of  a sudden when my right shoulder was externally rotated my fingers weren't even  close.

I'd been talking to a massage therapist I know and every now and then he'd give my shoulders a quick five minute massage, always telling me I "needed work."

Tonight I had a little extra time between classes, and he had some extra time, so I hopped up on his table and told him to have his way with me.

As soon as he laid hands on my shoulders he said "Girl, you're holding on to some stuff aren't you?"

Yeah, you think?

I could feel the knots being pushed along my shoulder blades, taking deep breaths as he pushed deeper into the tension to help release it.

I knew we were getting into the myofascial tissue when I started getting really queasy. Nausea is a common side effect since the underlying myofascial tissue is essentially being torn.

Again, he told me I need to take time for myself and take care of my body. Again I reminded him how much yoga I did and how many classes I taught. Again he emphasized the take time for myself part of the equation.

"How are you doing since your mom died?", he asked. Immediately my shoulders tightened up again.

"I'm fine."

"Your body doesn't lie." And he pushed deeper into my upper back, along my shoulders and down my arms.

Before I got down off the table I couldn't resist testing myself. So I twisted my arms and tested my flexibility. My fingers touched!

As I gathered my jacket to leave I practically begged him to schedule me for another session. I may in fact start stalking him and throwing myself down in front of him whenever he walks past.

Maybe I'll even take some time for myself and let my body rest. Or deal with some emotions I've been denying. But for now I plan to memorize his schedule and be conveniently available when he has openings.

Missing Pictures & Missing My Mom

Me and Mom on
my wedding day

This is the only picture I can find of me and my mom.

How is that possible?

Obviously this is my wedding day. I was so young. Too young to get married.

Mom was 62 when she died. She was so young to be over taken by cancer. Too young to die.

Soon after this picture was taken I yelled at my mom to quit taking so many stupid pictures. It hurt her feelings and she started to cry.

I really haven't cried much since I got the call she was gone. Haven't felt like doing much of anything actually.

On my wedding day my mom made me promise I would finish college. Of course I graduated and she was there to watch me get my diploma.

The night before we took mom to in-patient hospice, she made me promise I'd finish my Yoga Therapy certifications. I told her I'd finish, but honestly not with as much enthusiasm as I had with my earlier promise.

Without mom here who will watch my kids as I travel for my trainings? Who will help me financially when I come up a little short for the next levels tuition? Who will tell me to quit whining and start studying when I tell her I just don't have the brain power anymore for advanced anatomy?

I found out today that mom also made my sister promise to go back to school. My sister has already cut back her hours at work and is looking at beginning courses soon.

Both my sister and I are grown women with families of our own now. Yet we're still trying to make mom proud of us.

Why can't I find any more pictures of me with my mom?