Time to Heal…My Own Way.

Healing is a process.  It doesn’t look the same for any two people.  There are “stages” that are outlined for how people usually deal with loss…and I agree with that.  But it’s not an even flow from one to the next.  And sometimes you get stuck in a stage.

I feel like that I am genuinely happy…but even still, I am stuck in the anger.  I am very angry about the closing, and content, of my last relationship.  Not with every waking breath, but it’s there.  I can easily feel pleasure and I smile almost all the time.  That doesn’t mean that right under the surface I am not enraged.

At the risk of pissing off a few people…I am choosing to write about it.  I am getting more and more angry as the days go by instead of it dissipating.  While I am settling into a very amazing new relationship, I am still reeling about the former one.  It’s not keeping me from enjoying one ounce of romance and excitement…but in those quiet moments…I slip to where I just came from.

The letter came in the mail this week dictating to me the outcome of the hearing from the County House of Corrections from last month…the last incident.   The sentence he should have served is suspended with two years good behavior, but the fact that there’s Domestic Violence charges read loud and clear to me and just resonates.  It has snapped me into a bad place.

Shhhhh…..

Right?  I am not supposed to talk about it?

I am supposed to move on and heal…but just don’t say out loud what happened.  It’s not fair to him.  He was wronged growing up.  He’s not a monster.

Guess what?  I think differently.

I think I let a man into my life hesitantly.  One who gave, gave, gave.  “Too good to be true” is what I kept saying about the way my needs were tended to.  Of course, the immaturity here and there and what I considered obnoxiousness at times were smoothed over with the constant doting…for me and the family.  I always worried, though, about the wolf in sheep’s clothing.  Sadly, I was correct.

I gave him me.  An already wounded me.  And the biggest part of me.  My family.

My family was treated well by him.  No denying that.   I gave him this family that has been through a ton.  Kids that have lost their father figure.  A little boy that lost his one and only father.  That looked to this guy as his potential Step-Dad.  The only living Dad he would have.  I gave him that.

I am so unbelievably angry that he was so careless with this gift.  That because he had a crappy upbringing, he used that to excuse his violent outbursts.  He used that to excuse laying his hands on me.  Slamming me into the dashboard of his truck. He used that to excuse biting…yes, biting me…like an animal in a fit of rage.  I am still marked from that incident…from over a year and a half ago.

Shhhhh…

It’s not fair to speak of these things.  It’s not fair to him.  He’s not a monster.

Guess what?  I still think differently.

If those things were okay to do to me at the time, I feel they are okay to speak of today.

Why the hell do people think it’s better for me to keep it quiet to protect him?  Protect his feelings.  His honor.  Where the hell were you at two a.m. when he was in a rage and I was doing everything I could to de-escalate a situation that I had no idea how the outcome would be…fearing the worse.   The last one ultimately damaging a lot of people.

Just SHHHHHH!

Right?  I should just be silent and deal with it quietly?  We don’t want to embarrass anyone?

I am not trying to piss anyone off, but I am the one that is pissed off now.  Pissed off and hurt.  Pissed off and trying to heal…

I speak in hopes to heal some of this resentment.  I refuse to purse my lips to protect those that were so careless with me and mine.  I speak to let some of you that are stuck in a shitty situation, whether like the one I speak of or something different…that although there’s this process to go through…and sometimes you get stuck in for a bit…there’s another side to that life.  A decent one. A happy one.

I am holding tight to the hope that this is another step in my healing and I release some of this hostility by opening up more.  I honestly hope that the person that caused me this anger is finding their own way of healing to help them get healthy so they don’t do this to another family, and themselves, again.  I hope his family finds their way to forgiving him for doing and me for sharing.  I hope that if you are reading and you relate and you hurt…you find your path to safety and mending.

Bring on the next stage…

 

 

 

 

 

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Grief

Miek Bray

Grief. Something I thought I understood.  I thought wrong.   Until about a year ago.

I write about it now, because it’s front and center at this moment.  For whatever reason I fell deep into it last night…did the whole photo book scanning with a box of Kleenex.  I never know when those random times are coming or why, but I embrace them when they do and move on.

It’s true what they say, there are definitely phases of grief.  And it’s not just moving forward from one phase to the next…it’s going from one to another, and then you get to go back and visit them…fun, huh? Yea, I don’t think so either.  It’s also true what I’ve been told, that after that magical year it gets easier.  It truly does.  However, at any given moment, without any warning, you can be zapped right back to grief, despair and pain.  Raw pain.  Brokenness. Thankfully, those times are getting further apart and they don’t last as long.  Sometimes it’s a few days of being blue…but usually it’s just for the length of the song that brings you there, or for as long as you look at that picture, or…well sometimes is just because and just for a moment.  But for anyone just newly suffering a great loss…trust me, it does get better.

When I first lost Mike, I was already in counseling to…well, cope with the loss of Mike.  We were separated and I was having a terrible time with it, so I sought therapy to help me cope and be strong with my decision.  Little did I know how much harder it was to become.  I kept asking when the pain would lessen and when I would feel normal again.  That’s when I was told there was no magic amount of time, but after about a year, most people seem to agree that’s when acceptance usually settles in. A year??!!! When you tell that to a person days, weeks and even months into it, it sounds like a life sentence.  A year??!!  I can remember panicking.  I couldn’t wait that long to be ME again.  The unbroken me. Thankfully, I have enough kids and chaos in my life that kept a healthy amount of distraction for me to eventually make that year go by…and I even was able to enjoy a good portion of it.

Now what I also didn’t realize was after that year and things are getting easier…it’s not that I was getting back to being myself. That old ME is gone and will never be again.  And that’s okay.  There’s a part of me that’s broken now. Like when someone loses a leg…it doesn’t grow back and they miraculously are healed. Most times they eventually do learn to walk again, but not quite the same.  They walk with a limp.  Sometimes I don’t even notice the “limp” in my heart…and other times it’s so heavy it feels like my heart weighs 200 lbs in my chest.

My heart has a limp.  But it still works. That’s good enough for me.