 |
| A sunny December day on La Crosse Lane |
We began with letting go of anything that 2016 asked us to let go of, and for me, that included, among other things:
1) The need for any pretense about my relationship with my parents. They refuse to acknowledge what transpired in my childhood, and yet they act as if I should be ok with having a relationship with them where I pretend everything is fine, that they haven't denied this huge aspect of my being. Definitely letting go of my need to go along with that. Unfortunately, it seems to come with a cost -- I have been sick on and off in the month since I dropped this pretense -- and I'm feeling that way again now. Wah.
2) So, so many musical geniuses, including the masterful Canadian poet, Leonard Cohen. I just read an article in the New Yorker about him, which was written before he died. It was beautiful, and it discussed many of his songs, including this one that has particular significance for me as I welcome the new year (which was the second part of the yoga class):
Going home
Without my sorrow
Going home
Sometime tomorrow
Going home
To where it’s better
Than before
Going home
Without my burden
Going home
Behind the curtain
Going home
Without the costume
That I wore
You know the corny old expression: "Home is where the heart is"? Well for me, realizing on this hasn't been as easy as it sounds. (Get comfy, days fans, what follows is rather lengthy, and for many, it's a review, mostly for my own benefit as I close out a big year of my life and welcome an even bigger one.)
You see, I came back into my heart, after fleeing it during the abuse in my childhood, when my son was born. And my heart grew again exponentially when my daughter was born.
But it wasn't until I was able to heal considerably more than I had when I married that I was able to truly fall in love with a man. And, oh, did I ever: With the New Englander. And I dreamt of a home with him. Of a baby. Of a second marriage.
Instead, he moved away, at the end of June, 2013. Because he wasn't ready for any of that. And my heart broke. It straight up broke. It broke along the fault lines that had been created in my childhood. Which meant that the heartbreak I experienced in his absence was SUPER magnified by all that I hadn't yet let myself feel (but needed to feel to become whole) from my childhood. Which meant mostly that I cried. A lot. When I heard songs. When I rode my bike, either bike, that he added (or helped add) to my fleet. When I camped. When I got into bed at night. When I woke up in the morning. When I had an orgasm. When I heard his voice. When I saw his name. Etc. Etc. Etc. My poor kids -- they didn't know what to do with me.
The New Englander wasn't happy without me either, and over the course of the next couple of years, we went back and forth about whether we were going to get back together, did for a while, broke up again, etc.
And then at the beginning of 2016, I started to write a book. Well, another book. I start writing books quite frequently. This one was about the two of us. It reprinted all of the emails we exchanged, and through the process of putting it together, I realized a lot of important things, including:
1) We have an awesome love;
2) I wanted an awesome love in my life again.
So I asked him if we could talk, and then we did. I told him about these realizations. I told him I still loved him. He said that he loved me too, but that he thought you could still love someone and be over them. I cried, sobbed, really, saying: "I am definitely not over you. Are you over me?" And then he admitted he wasn't, that he hadn't met anyone else that did it for him in the same way.
I was relieved to hear that, but there were other things I heard during that phone call that were less promising: He was happy in his little mountain town, disconnected at home from other people; this made him feel safe. Also: He worried that if we got back together, it wouldn't stay good.
And I heard him. I really heard him. And I accepted what he said. If that's what makes him feel safe, I thought, he should stay there. And if he doesn't have faith that we can have a fantastic life together, then maybe we can't.
So, in March of this year, I wrote him a letter, in which I told him that he knows just how truly, madly, deeply I love him, but I want love in my life again. I want the things that we had. That I had a nearly impossible time believing that he wasn't the person that I was going to get to have them with, but it seems maybe he isn't. And I told him not to contact me again, please, unless he could be all in, in a way that he couldn't be before.
Fast forward to November 1: the day he got back in touch. After a few emails, a letter, and several phone conversations and texts in which he expressed, among other things, full faith that we've got 50 years together ahead of us, making life feel like a dream vacation, I'd say we've come full circle.
To a place where when I text him the photo above to show that the sun was shining outside our house, he texts back that it breaks his heart with yearning to see a picture of his home. His home. With me. And my kids. Nothing, but nothing could make me happier: All my loves under one roof. Coming in 2017! Yay!
I was watching an episode of The Crown tonight, and there's a scene where Winston Churchill is admonishing the Duke of Windsor, once King Edward the VIII, that the love he had for his wife had destroyed everything (including forcing him to abdicate the throne).
The Duke answers:
"It is love, Winston, love, the greatest thing on Earth."
Yup. I'll say it is. And that's one of many realizations The New Englander had in 2016. Hip, hip, hooray for that!
In little more than a week, he'll be coming home, if only for a visit this time. And on the eve of this new year, in which I get to be reunited with my love and even have my home become his, I couldn't be more grateful that we're both:
Going home
Without my sorrow
Going home
Sometime tomorrow
Going home
To where it’s better
Than before
Going home
Without my burden
Going home
Behind the curtain
Going home
Without this costume
That I wore
Going home
Without the sorrow
Going home
Sometime tomorrow
Going home
To where it’s better
Than before
Going home
Without the burden
Going home
Behind the curtain
Going home
Without this costume
That I wore
...going home to where the heart is, to where it's been for both of us since about August of 2010, shortly after we met.
...going home without the burdens of our childhood traumas: We've both spent significant time handing those burdens back to from where they came.
...going home without the costumes of protection we both needed before: We're both in a different space to trust our love this time around. We trust ourselves more, making it infinitely easier to trust each other.
Yep, it's gonna be the happiest new year ever for this girl!
No comments:
Post a Comment