Wednesday, April 11, 2007
For Them That Know
I'm trying to write an essay about the trip I took to Bolivia. It was at the beginning of the end of my marriage, during the worst of everything, and reading my old journals and remembering all the things that happened has made me sick again. I don't want to go back to that hurt. I don't ever want to go back to that. It scares me so much. Still. It's been three years and it terrifies me. I thought I would be doing so much better by now. Why am I so bad at this? So slow? I thought I'd feel happier by now and stronger and less stunned. I still feel so stunned. So ridiculously lost. I hold God like a map but I feel like such a foreigner. Dear travelers, dear homeless, dear ones that know, can we huddle together? Maybe build a fire? Hold hands, swap stories, share a blanket, a cot? It all looks so big and I don't understand any of it.
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6 comments:
Angela, after reading your last several entries, I have to say that you seem to be doing some of your best writing-- blog-wise, at least. I think that says something-- maybe that you're not as bad at "this" as you think. In any case, I'd be happy to sit around a campfire & share a blanket with you any time.
I'm with Ann. Shall I bring the marshmallows?
We are sitting, sharing, slurping together via your blog, Angela.
You are not alone.
Okay, I'm blushing and laughing all at once. Deanna offered marshmallows and I went to hot cocoa, not roasting. That's why I said 'slurping'. Of course, we could slurp really soft gooey marshies, huh......I'm sorry. What a dork I am. :-/
(And I was just trying to make Angela feel better. I know what it's like to have battered emotions last too long, to want to be over them, and yet here they are, as though the event that caused them happened just this morning. I care, Angela. For whatever it's worth...)
thanks so much, all.
cherie, i knew what you meant. you can keep your blushes for a cute man!
For a long time I journaled about the things that fall apart and break around your feet. I stared at them as though somehow, with my eyes, I could put them back together. I re-lived the memories hoping that somewhere in there God's voice would interfere and make them hurt LESS. It was only when I stopped looking, when I stopped re-tracing the steps, when I stopped thinking about all those feelings, that I finally was able to breathe. Loss is loss Angela, and the pain never entirely goes away, as I know you know. Those potholes will hit you when you least expect it-- always. There's no guide to say where you "should" be or when it is that you get there. He just is. You just are. The pain just happens. The best we can do is move forward-- closing up the darker books of our lives and stepping out into the light even if it only feels cold. We have to step out and hope that we don't cause pain like we ourselves, have suffered. I hope something comes to take your thoughts to a new and exciting place--very soon. My best wishes and deepest sympathies are with you....
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