End Of An Era

The large play set in our backyard has been torn down. It's gone. Destroyed.

July 2006

I remember when my husband and I first bought this house, our first home. Our sixth baby wasn't even walking yet and we were confident enough to make this huge investment in our future. The play set was already in the backyard when we bought the house. But we made it one of our first priorities to fix it up and make it nicer and stronger. Safe from outside forces. A place where our family would be secure forever.

I look at the pictures of us painting the play set just six years ago. I remember how happy and full of hope we all were. The kids were so young, and we were all a bit naive. But we had love and I was confident life would be kind to us.

The play set is rotted now and with great sadness the decision to get rid of it was made. What happened?  We took it for granted that it would always be there even without our attention and dedication. We allowed outside forces to influence it's stability. We stopped caring for it.

September 2012

So with nothing more than some tears, a saw, and a crowbar the play set was torn down and thrown away. Despite its years of loyalty to the family, it's now been rejected. Thrown away like trash. I know that rejection. I'm living it daily.

I've wailed, cried, begged, pleaded, bargained and argued. All to no avail. There were nights I couldn't take the thought of the only life I've ever known ending that I considered ending my own life. But that's not me. I am in a kind of pain I never experienced before, but I won't abandon those who do still love me, want me, need me and depend on me. I can't be that horribly selfish to just walk away from a rotted mess. I will find a way to heal the rot.

If nothing else, the past 25 years have taught me that love is a choice. Every day we wake up, we have a choice to make whether to love or not. I'm not going to claim that I chose love every day. Too many days I chose not to allow it. But when push comes to shove, always choose love. Always.

There's a big empty void now both in my backyard and in my life. My heart physically aches when I look at it. It's a big open space and I have no idea what, if anything, can or will fill it.

Most of the old play set sits tonight in the burn pit awaiting a bonfire. A symbolic burning of the old and a hope that a new future will arise out of the ashes. Out of destruction comes a new creation.

But I can't let go of the memories. I refuse to believe that today's rot negates the happy memories we did have. Although the memories often bring me to my knees in tears, I won't let go of all of them. I have saved the boards where the kids wrote their names on the play set and hung them up where I'll see them daily. A new place and a new purpose. A reminder of happier times.

A reminder that there was love. And love still exists.

One Month

What I've learned in the past 31 days:

• The moon taunts me as I lay in my bed watching the clock tick the minutes away. Yet the same moon calms me as I sit outside on the porch swing in the darkness.
• Middle of the night TV is nothing but infomercials for exercise programs, diet plans and cooking appliances. If I wasn't so exhausted I'd find some humorous connection in that.
• Cleaning and organizing every nook and cranny in the house is obviously me just trying to find control in an out of control situation. But it helps to at least accomplish something.
• When you feel like you can't stop crying it's because there are so many tears built up inside you the dam has finally burst and all you can do is hold on tight and let the tears bust through and flow out.
• Telling me a lie does not lessen or take my pain away. It increases it exponentially.
• When actions and words don't match, the actions are the most meaningful.
• "You live in the South, let people help you" is just a kind way of saying "Quit being so stubborn and let your friends be your friends!"
• My friends have been my lifeline this past month. They have been willing to sit and hug me, listen to me, not judge me, offer advice or just shut up as needed. 
• I really miss my mom. But I am totally impressed by the way my dad has been there for me in her place.
• Decisions, discussions and actions based on emotions rarely work out well.
• When I lash out it's because I'm afraid. 
• Decisions, discussions and actions based in fear rarely work out well either.
• Cucumber slices do not decrease puffiness in your eyes. But they feel cool against your eyes and are actually quite soothing.
• Not eating and not sleeping will eventually catch up with you. I have wonderful students in my classes who not only catch me as it finally catches up and I start to pass out from dizziness, but who will hand me a power bar and tell the rest of the class to just keep going.
• My job is one where I am constantly giving to others. I just don't have it in me to give right now.
• Anxiety is real and it's scary.
• The places your mind can take you in the throes of anxiety and depression are even scarier.
• It's very easy to slide downhill. It's very easy to stay down. It takes work and commitment to climb your way back up. 
• I may be very lost right now, but I have not forgotten who I am.

Purging the Pain

I took advantage of a unique opportunity tonight and drove into Memphis to attend a Lululemon-sponsored yoga class on the rooftop of the Peabody Hotel.

I didn't tell anyone I was going. I didn't think I actually would. I'm not doing well in big crowds lately. Truth be told I'm not doing well anywhere lately. In fact as I lay around the house this afternoon it was kid #2 who said "oh just go you know this is something you'll think is cool." And as I walked out the door he hollered "and don't turn the car around and come back!"

Damn, my 15-year-old is being forced to become wise beyond his years.

As I pulled into the city parking garage I received a phone call. It was a call I'm always hoping and waiting for, yet when I hung up I felt nothing but the blanket of sadness envelope me again. But I'm already parked so I might as well walk over to the hotel to at least check it out.

Memphis skyline at sunset

The class began as the sun was setting. Almost 100 local yogi's with their mats placed in a circle moving and breathing with an amazing view of the city and the Mississippi River. The Memphis air, as always, is humid but there's a nice breeze blowing off the river. I actually hear birds chirping, something I've never noticed from the noisy streets below. Although the class was accompanied by cool blues music from a DJ, I could also hear live music wafting up from Beale Street below.

I should have been in heaven. I'm not. I'm in hell.

It's a hell I never expected. A hell I never wanted. A hell people tell me won't last forever. Right now I can't believe that. I feel like I'm going to suffocate. My chest hurts and I'm nauseous. Classic symptoms of a heart attack. But this isn't a heart attack. It's a broken heart.

And it's real. And I feel like I might die.

I now understand how cutters can cut themselves. It has nothing to do with the act of taking a razor blade to flesh and drawing blood to inflict external pain. Rather it's to release the internal pain that is so deep inside it has taken over your body and your soul. You become desperate for a way to get it out. Tears don't help. Exercise, vomiting, purging don't help. The pain is there and it is slowly killing you.  You don't know how to make it leave.

My yoga mat has always been a space of solace for me. Not lately. I've avoided it because any time I step foot on the mat, I fall apart. And I do that enough involuntarily now that I'm sure not going to sign up for it. I've done OK while teaching my classes, only a few have noticed when I need to take a moment and swallow back tears. But when it's just me alone with myself, I break down. But I'm here on the roof and I'm going to practice along with all these other smiling yogis.

I'm doing OK at first. I was moving, I was breathing, I was doing as I was told. But as my hips became looser, my second chakra begins to open. The second chakra, known as Svadhisthana, is located in the hips, lower back, reproductive organs of the body. It is associated with water and the place where, especially women, store their emotions. I'm flowing through the practice yet now I'm crying.

I try to control the sobbing and pretend I'm wiping sweat as I try to wipe away the tears. But I can't stop. The pain is too much. I finally drop to child's pose and for a minute I wonder what others think as they see my back heave with each sob. I can't think about it for long because once again I feel like I'm going to suffocate. My chest is hurting. The physical pain is too much, I've got to get out of here.

As we lay back in savasana the tears are freely flowing down my face and I really can't breathe now. I'm trying to slow down and deepen my breath but I can't. The night sky feels like it's laying heavy on my chest.  I have to get off this roof now. I'll jump off if I have to.

Just as I moved to get up, the woman next to me reached over and held my hand. This was a woman I only see once per year at yoga events, who knows nothing of what my pain is, yet she held my hand and she held tight. She wouldn't let go as I tried to pull and run away. Eventually as I lay atop the city, I gazed at the moon and slowed my breathing and stopped my tears. The sky became more open, lighter, not as suffocating. For a brief moment I was able to let go and relax.

I see now I needed to be at that class tonight. If for no other reason it got me to the place I was ready to sit and write again. These words were going through my head as I downdogged and back bended.

It is a small piece of the pain ready to escape.