Tag Archives: separation

Ending a Marriage, Saving the Love

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So yesterday I did an interview with one of my dearest friends in the world, Macha Einbender for herfuture.com. It’s raw and honest and, hopefully, helpful.

The truth of my marriage ending is that my former husband is a gay man. A conclusion we both came to in July of last year after over two years of agonizing, beautiful and committed soul-searching.

Chances are you know someone who has gone through, or is going through what myself and my former husband did. And while I don’t dwell on the sexuality (although for 2 years it was hard not to), I do emphasize the intense spiritual work it took to leave that marriage with our love completely intact. 

You can listen here: http://machaeinbender.byoaudio.com/files/media/09d90b36-69f0-151d-c37a-398fb790cbda.mp3

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My Detour into Crazy Town

Crazy Town

Two nights ago I took a detour into Crazy Town. You know, one of those nights where one fearful thought is allowed to fester and grow until you’re ranting and raving about things and people you cannot control, seeking out reasons to get upset, looking at things on the internet that are anything but helpful etc etc etc

I hadn’t done that in a good, long while. Fueled by fear and too much wine, I spun out. I did things I wouldn’t normally do, said things I would not normally say.

The triggers, I believe, were two-fold. Firstly, earlier that day I ran into an old neighbour who had no idea that I had separated from my husband. Reliving that is never fun and it affected me more than I thought it would.

And secondly, I was by myself.

I have had two little human beings literally hanging off of me for eight years. And yes, I did have periods of time where I would be away from them, but since the separation the way I view time away from them is different. When they are with their father, especially overnight, I feel afraid, anxious and guilty. He is more than capable of caring for them. This is all me. And I have to laugh.

I have to laugh because if I take this too seriously I’ll get stuck on the things that don’t really matter. I’m transitioning out of one life and into another. It’s scary sometimes, but I’m okay. And I have to remember that when I do get stuck in the fear I may do some stupid shit. I may say some really ridiculous things. But I can reel all that nothingness back in and let it go with laughter…a gentle laughter.

A laughter that says: this is not where my safety is, this is not the Truth of who I am, this is just filling time with silly things until you’re ready to remember.

There is a better way.

So with a gentle laughter and a willingness to see the better way, I bring my Crazy Town night to the Light. I will pray those evenings where my babies are with their Daddy to be truly helpful. I will surrender where I think I should be in order to embrace where I belong.

Crazy Town will be there if I want to visit again, but I know the Light feels better.

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When I Get Lost

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For a minute there, I got lost…

I trust so easily sometimes. I slip and slide into that which I do not want and it’s days gone by before I realize I am somewhere else, somewhere I never desired to be.

I open up without a care. I invite those from hither and yon into my yard before I finally see the crowd has grown too large and I have no more to give.

For a minute there, I lost my way…

There used to be a gatekeeper between my brow and my crown. Where has she flown off to? I used to keep a compassionate distance between my heart and theirs. It narrowed until it disappeared.

And now I’m here in the midst of a life I do not care to live.

But I will let it go.

Because the distance is imagined just as all boundaries are. And the only thing I require is kindness. Kindness to direct me, connect and protect me.

So when I get lost I ask, “What is the kindest thing to do here?”

And then I can trust. I can open up. Kindness is my gatekeeper and my reminder that I am enough, exactly as I am.

Here and now. Just as I am: The whole, the we, the everafter.

No separation, no suffering, no shit.

<deep breath>

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Sorry, Christmas, I’m Just Not That Into You

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But usually I am. Usually come December 1st I’m blaring carols, stringing up lights and half-done my shopping.

This year is different though.

And I’m not trying to be all dramatic and depressed and make a big deal where a big deal need not be made. But this year feels different and I’m not going to pretend that it doesn’t.

I have not started shopping, I played carols for the sake of the kids, and I ended up crying while stringing up the lights. I have spent the last seventeen Christmases with Michael as my partner and this year he’s with someone else and so am I.

And it’s better this way.

We are happier this way, but Christmas brings up all kinds of memories that I’d rather not think about right now and that’s where I am. I will deal with it. I will grieve it and let it go, but I’m taking my time. I’m walking hand in hand with my Higher Power and taking my time.

It’s sad and uncomfortable and it’s strange to know that while my life is actually better these days, there is a part of me that yearns for the feelings of holidays past. It’s complicated and reminds me how we’re not easily pleased until we let go of all expectation.

So Christmas, I’ll tolerate you. I’ll acknowledge your beauty and your magic and peace. I’ll pray to see this differently. But this year, I’m just not that into you.

Hey, there’s always next year.

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Whispers

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Whispers in the schoolyard are all in my head. The looks up and down, a mixture of pity and “I’m glad it’s not me”, they’re all in my head. A mother says to another mother under her breath “I don’t know what I’d do”. You can ask me. I’ll tell you. I dispense naked honesty like water from a fountain.

What you do is question a lot…like everything. What you do is cry a lot, sometimes right there in the middle of Target. What you do is pray a lot and listen a lot. And what you do is love a lot.

Because this life I’ve chosen has no room for victims. And that’s why your voices, your judgments are only in my head. It’s not real…the pain, the fear, the anger. It’s all a dense and muddled smokescreen obscuring the safety of a Love so fierce it knows no opposite. It knows nothing but Itself.

I take it with me as I walk through the schoolyard knowing how many people I still have to tell, how many people may have opinions of their own. I take it with me and remember they’re all me. We do this together. We deny until it hurts too bad and then we soothe until we’re ready to heal.

And I don’t want to change you. I want to go with you. I’m already walking, but I know you’ll catch up. I feel your breath on my neck and I know we’re almost there. And maybe, my sister, maybe we never left.

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Steps

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I still remember how it was. I remember the anxiety and the nervous thoughts constantly passing through my mind. I recall the fear, the nasty comments I reserved only for myself and I can absolutely feel the compulsion again: That need to feel better, to fill up and then to empty.

It’s insane. I know it. But I also know that we all have our own ways of pushing away the uncomfortable and this just happened to be mine.

Recently I have noticed a bit of this repeating in my life. I have noticed how resistant I am to thoughts that leave me feeling unsafe, unloved and unworthy. All this time I thought I was doing some good. I was forgiving. I was surrendering my grievances to my Higher Power. I was trying my best to let go.

But I was missing a step.

In order to let go, I had to fully acknowledge what I was releasing. I had to feel the discomfort. I had to meet it, shake its hand, shoot the shit for a bit and then let it go.

In short, I had to face my fear. I don’t like doing it. I really don’t. I would much rather pretend it doesn’t exist or plead with Spirit to take it away from me altogether. But I am being guided to give it less power. I’m being shown that it’s not near as bad as I think it is.

And so I’m trusting. I’m going on faith. I’m willing to be led into a light that, right now, still blinds me. Teeny, tiny steps. I can do this.

It’s gentle when I remember I don’t have to go it alone. When I forget, I freak out.

And all I have to do is reach out, willingness in hand, ready to feel that which will never break me. I am made of bigger, better things than those. Beyond this body bound in chains, I am alight with Love.

Teeny, tiny steps. I can do this.

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The Call for Love

Boston

I’ve never been to Boston. I’ve never seen its sights, soaked in the history, walked its streets. I’ve always wanted to, but haven’t yet. And hearing the news yesterday didn’t make me want to stay away, it made me sad, but it didn’t make me afraid.

“Problems cannot be solved by the same level of thinking that created them.” Albert Einstein

And make no mistake, the events at yesterday’s Boston Marathon started with a thought of fear. A Course in Miracles teaches that everything is either an extension of love or a call for it. Yesterday’s attack was a call for love. It was a chance for me to go back to my Inner Teacher and ask for help.

There is so much pain in the world… What can I do to lessen it? What grievances am I holding onto that are contributing to the chaos? I have a role here. I always do. And it is always to choose love over fear…to forgive any thoughts of separation and to allow our Inner Guide to show us how.

This is the inner work…the work of prayer, meditation, forgiveness. Of course there is much work to be done on the outside too…justice, treatments, counselling etc. And when that work is anchored with a loving heart, there is an ease to moving forward…an expansive, pervasive kind of healing.

We can do this. We can rise to the occasion and not tackle this event at the same level that made it.

As it says in the Course:

“Where there is love, your brother must give it to you because of what it is. But where there is a call for love, you must give it because of what you are.” (T. Ch.14, V.12)

We are all called. Let’s listen.

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Body Work

I’m searching for the middle ground.  For nearly all of my adult life, my body has been the enemy.  I fought it fiercely and resented it endlessly.  Now it is balance and compassion I seek.  I know I am not my body.  I know that Spirit is my reality, and yet this flesh and bone is my carriage.  It sweeps me through life to the truth.  It is the wave I ride to the great beyond.  There’s no sense in fighting anymore.

How do I love and deny something at the same time?  How do I pay close attention to something that isn’t even real?  When I look outside of myself I see that I shouldn’t carry this extra weight on my thighs, nor the added flesh on my hips.  I see I should be lean, should not eat bread and should detox regularly.  It seems to me this body is a weapon of mass distraction.  It’s design: to keep me afraid, keep me comparing and blind me from what is real.

So what do I do?  How do I find the happy medium of understanding I am sweet Spirit and blessing that which appears to contain it?  I’ve asked.  I’ve prayed.  I’ve meditated.  What I heard is Forgiveness.

So I look at myself in the mirror with an awareness that I exist above & beyond what I see before me.  I also recognize that I have choices and every time I choose what I put in my body, I invite the Divine in with me.  I know that I am not guilty.  I can forgive thinking that I am.  I know that I am separate from no one and nothing.  I forgive believing that I am.

I let it all go.  The work I do with my body is no different than the work I do with my Spirit.  It’s all the same with the same purpose: remembering that Love is all there is. Period.

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I Walk With You

I don’t get disappointed with others in my life too often.  For the most part, I have compassion and can see them for the light that they are.  It’s when I put them on a pedistal that I get into trouble.  There’s nowhere for them to go but down…nothing for them to do but fall.

And that’s not fair.

I know that there’s greatness within me.  I know that I have so much wisdom to impart, so much love to share!  And sometimes it scares me.  I sometimes feel overwhelmed by it.  So what do I do?  I take all of that awesomeness, wrap it up and give it to someone else…only I don’t tell them so.  I pretend that the superwoman I am is actually her…just her, this other person outside of me.  That way I don’t have to deal with it.  That way I don’t have to fail.  That way I protect myself.

And wow…that’s so unfair.

Because the truth is we’re all amazing.  We are all divine, filled with purpose and oozing love.  And if I don’t recognize that, I cheat humankind.  I rob the world of its potential.

And that ain’t cool.

So I offer my hand.  You can step down from that place I put you.  I see you now before me and look into your eyes.  And here you cannot disappoint and I cannot fail.  We are the same.  I walk with you.  This work we do, we do together.  We light up the world!  We are the same.

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