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.

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.