Closing Another Chapter


The day shit went down was exactly 20 months to the day of Josie’s death. There’s been no doubt she helped orchestrate such a perfect storm – one that ensured no turning back – damage that was so concrete there would be no way to make it right, no question beyond a shadow of a doubt – and that it was!

As many more details there are to this chapter of my life, surprisingly enough, I don’t feel the need to divulge in them like I used too. Although impossible to realize at the time – all traumas and tragedies are in some way a blessing – to teach us an underlying lesson, assuming we’re willing and open to truly learn from it. And to some degree, these were also consequences of my choices, the choice to stay long after I should’ve, the choice to listen to my head and not my gut, the choice to not set boundaries out of fear, the choice to allow fear to consume me, the choice of routine and safety over following what, deep down I new was best, the choice of being selfish and thinking I was doing my daughter a favor by staying, the choice to feed into and play the game that I hated him for – but learned to love in some sick way.

Everyone has their own definition of closure to each circumstance, and to some degree, that closure comes when our minds and hearts are willing to truly hear it, no matter how harsh. As I said, I literally went insane with questions I would run through my head, wanting to know the details of how, when, where and WHY?! About a year and a half later, I broke. Aside from the fact that I was maxed out on my meds and needed to find something different – the ones I did switch too didn’t work. I was a fast rolling snowball that turned into an avalanche in a fairly short amount of time! I called him screaming and bawling, letters written, wanting out of this life, and for real this time – checked right the eff out. Done, over it, adios, peace out, sianara! I was exhausted, I was sick of putting on the front – as if I really had my shit together! I was sick of hearing aaaaaaall of the stories, sick of trying to cover his ass with my daughter, coming up with more excuses then he came up for himself, sick of not knowing the details, sick of wondering what in the eff I was going to do next, sick of getting up everyday to put on a show, sick of the torment – every aspect. I told him ‘when I ask you a question – you answer it – I don’t care what it is – answer me. You’ve done nothing but lie since day 1, acting as if I was delusional – I don’t care how bad it is, for once in your life tell me the truth – you owe me this!’ He told me how it wasn’t going to help, if anything it’d add more damage – but I didn’t care. So, we played a nice long game of Q & A! He was right, knowing the nitty gritty of it all did make it worse in the short term- but within days it lifted. That’s all it took – I just wanted the fucking truth – for once! Even though the answer to every ‘why’ question was followed with an “I honestly don’t know”, it was enough for me to finally put my mind at ease. To just know the facts without the guessing game, without others side or speculation. It didn’t clear the anger by any means, but it cleared my mind and that was good enough at the time.

Although I never thought I’d say it – I’m grateful for it many ways, it was a door that needed to be slammed shut for good. And the things it’s taught me since, although painful to endure – were truly needed. It taught me more about myself, how much my gut instinct never lies, more about those around me, those that stuck with me and were my sounding boards over and oveeeer! How blessed I am to be surrounded by such loving souls who stood by my side and showed up on days I’m sure they had far better things to do. It taught me my true, inner strength – that I really, truly didn’t know I had. It taught me to have more empathy for those going through hard times and to see each side of the spectrum (yes, that took me a long time to see beyond my side, I’m well aware! 😉 . It taught me that a loss comes in different forms and although it isn’t remotely fair to compare a death to a divorce, it is still a loss. It had different driving forces, but I would say to some degree, still follows the stages of grief – you’re still forced to feel it.

It made me realize how unable I was to be in a functional, non-confrontational relationship, because I had become dependent on the dysfunction. How I didn’t know how to allow something or someone to be good in my life and that a boring, drama free life – really is fabulous! lol It forced me to see how much I ran from things, whether perched on a bar stool or a social calendar so full and booked out, even I could barely keep it straight – I was occupying my time and energy on everything except what had happened. It has taught me, (perhaps more in the last year), what feeling feels like again. Not going to lie, I realized how much I didn’t miss it – but also how very much I needed it! How I’ve learned to mask and hide behind them, unable to show them, how important they are to release and how much we need to realize experiencing them is part of being human (still reminding myself of that on the daily). Because I cried so much and for so long after Josie and then next to never cried after the divorce, while operating strictly out of anger – I’ve been forced to face both extremes again and at a higher intensity. It’s taught me how numb I was to so many things around me, how blind and ignorant I became, how guarded and hardened I forced myself to be after the fact. It forced me to realize the masks I was wearing, and how we all seem to have them – applying a surface layer to throw out to the world to protect ourselves from really being seen. How fearful we are of another loss, in any form and how we cling even tighter when being threatened with it. How good the truth feels to not only know it, but to feel it – it was his truth, their truth, and my truth to an extent and it was one that needed to be set free. And for whatever reason – it did just that for me – and as I lay another chapter to rest, I’m grateful for every aspect of it. Without the darkness, I wouldn’t have known, nor appreciated the light.


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