Usually when I sit down to write a blog post, I know exactly what I want to say. The words have been forming inside of my head for days. Begging to be let out. Keeping me up at night, until I can finally release them on to paper.
Lately, the words are stagnant. And if there is a spark, the words quickly extinguish. Leaving me feeling empty. Muddling around in a sea of gray. Many emotions that are present but not overwhelming. Life activities that are normal and not traumatic. Steadiness with my depression. Healthy thoughts. Good days beating out bad days. The medication working so I am able to utilize all the other tools I have to keep it under control.
I call it the middle. A place where my life is stable and steady. I am in a good place with myself. I have survived the legal divorce process. The months of separation. The first holidays and vacations away from my sons. I am not celebrating wedding anniversaries anymore but divorce anniversaries. I am being asked how I got through the early days and months of divorce rather than me searching out advice and support.
I continue to work on me. Healing from these past few years is complicated and slow. I am coming to realize that I may work on healing for the rest of my life. Divorce is not a one and done process. Especially when children and co-parenting are involved. I can’t just wash my hands of it. Pretend I am okay and happy with everything that has transpired. So I continue to go therapy, read books that focus on healing, rising strong, and self-love, and share my story. I plan trips. I go out with friends. I explore my city. I buy tickets to concerts. I keep living my life.
I pray. And continue to pray and speak to God and Jesus. They are my friends who love me and know and appreciate my worthiness. My relationship with structured religion is heavy on my heart right now. I don’t know where I need to more forward with it. So I pray. I listen to the God whispers. I react to the God yells.
I have been waiting to get to this place. The middle. After all the firsts and seconds. After clawing out of the deep dark pit of depression. After the yesterdays. Normal, ordinary days. Yet, I have always had a hard time accepting my normal, ordinary life. Here I am and I struggle to be okay with it. Especially when the past years have been living with something big all the time. Big hurts. Big emotions. Big events. Big traumas.
Now I have a pretty ordinary normal life and I feel stuck. In the gray, dull, boring. My heart yearns for something. What? I don’t know. A warm and firm hand around my waist. Whispers in the dark night. Love that doesn’t make me feel less and lonely. A day of motherhood where I feel like I didn’t just survive but was present and fulfilled. I was able to slow down and enjoy my children. An upcoming kid free weekend where I didn’t start panicking about no plans. One that I was at ease with. Alone time and friend time. Yet, here I am frantically feeling left out and lonely.
Waiting. I am waiting for something. And trying to be present in today while hoping for tomorrow. It is a balance act that I think I am failing. Waiting in the middle is breaking me down just as the gut wrenching early days of separation. I am having to dig deep within myself to find out more about who I am. What I am made of. How strong I can be. Where I want to go.
While waiting, I feel the urgency to do. To act. To be impulsive. To feel. Anything other than the waiting. Much like when I am surround by darkness. I frantically search for something that will bring the light. But I have to be cautious. For many things, people, and actions can bring about false light. I have to be true to me. My heart. My morals. My integrity. And wait.
Wait in the middle.