fresh start

Webster has no words

Z. looking ahead, new life, new start , , , ,

I hate the thought of labels, but secretly I crave the definition just for some sort of inkling as to who I am now.

Since the word vomit incident, I’ve been back to see my therapist. I shared with her what happened and she said what I already knew – maybe there are still some unresolved items. Maybe she’s right.

Some things in life are easy to define; but consider infidelity, divorce, and then suicide all in a matter of just four months and who knows what to call it other than mind-numbing. This I know… this was the craziness that was my life in 2014.

Since the “craziness that was my life” happened, I’ve struggled what to call it, how to refer to it, how to give it the “respect” it’s due. In fact, I always seem to default to calling it the “Craziness.”  It doesn’t seem to fit any mold, at least none that I know.  I mentioned to my therapist that I think I struggle with defining it because I really don’t want to be tied to whatever label might come with it.

To me legally divorced and emotionally widowed is the only thing that makes sense and yet, that’s not an option when filling out paperwork (since the Craziness every time that question comes up, I leave it blank.)  With my recent determination towards self-care, I affirm each morning that I am a child of God, that I am loved with an everlasting love, that I am clothed with strength and dignity and laugh without fear of the future (Prov 31:25) but there are times that I still can’t seem to figure out who I am and the lyrics to Irene Cara’s song Out Here on My Own play over and over in my mind.

I’m not sure I will ever really know what to call it. And maybe the Craziness will just be what it will always be. And maybe I don’t need a label. Maybe the definition of it will be just a picture of me surviving after such a crazy time that was my life. Maybe…. nope, definitely.

 

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What’s in a name?

Z. new life, new start , , ,

Twenty seven months ago I found myself in a much different place…a place I never expected to be. They say time heals all wounds… and in the midst of it all,  I would not have believed that but now, two years later, it’s much easier to accept.

I struggled with continuing my story on top of my  previous blog . It just didn’t “feel” right…and so rather than try to force the matter, I realized it was time to start a fresh blog–one in which I could  share the triumphs and trials of a life that is continuing to (re)build, a life I refused to give up on, a life that is now imperfectly, perfectly mine.

So what is in a name?  Why did I name the blog “behind the glass”? Well, during all the craziness, I found an unexpected ally. A friend that never hesitated to remind me that I was worth it… that yes, time does make a difference, and that yes, while it was OK to feel sorry for myself, it wasn’t the place to live. C shared one of her favorite sayings and its stuck with me since the day she said it.“When you find yourself being treated cheaply it was because YOU put yourself on the sale rack. It was time to get behind the glass where the expensive items are kept.” 

So I say to all of you out there in blog land that have gone through or are going through the crap that is unfaithfulness, divorce, and the loss of a life and lifestyle that you once knew… it’s time to get yourself behind that glass. YOU are worth so much more than you might think.  Just like C believed it enough for me until I could see it myself, I will believe it enough for you until you can see it for yourself.

And in the meantime, I’ll keep on keeping on…it’s not been easy, but it has been easier. I’m not starting over, I’m just starting again.