Somehow, somewhere along the way during the past several months I lost myself. I’m not sure exactly how it happened, or when. I thought I was doing fine, finding my way through my legal maze, working on a new relationship, and snipping off all the raveled edges of my previous life.
The past two years have been unusual, to say the least. My life took a nosedive in February, 2012, and I found myself going from drowning, to treading water, to floating on a turbulent sea that never seemed to calm down. Everyone told me how well I was handling things, and I tried to believe them, but deep inside I was a mess. I was inwardly screaming for someone to rescue me, while at the same time silently shouting that I was a strong woman who could take care of her own life.
In November, all criminal charges against me were dismissed, as my soon-to-be ex-husband finally admitted his guilt in the case and pleaded guilty. I was elated, for a moment. I was free, and proven innocent, and the world looked bright. This was followed by our divorce hearing, where I was finally released from the clutches of this man. However, the night of the divorce hearing found me in my living room, sobbing in the arms of my sister. I was happy, the ordeal was over, but I was in the throes of a crying spell that just wouldn’t end. The tragedy of it all hit me full in the face. My marriage had ended, my trust in my husband had vanished, my home of nine years was gone, and I felt the depths of a sadness I couldn’t explain or describe.
This past summer, I met a man who seemed to be everything I wanted in someone to build a life with. He was funny, smart, kind and considerate, and he professed his love for me on a daily basis. He supported me during the last phase of my legal woes, and stood by me as I trembled in my shoes waiting for each court date. I fell in love with him, but as I became more and more involved with him, I was slowly losing myself as I attempted to become who he wanted me to be, and as I did my best to fit into a mold that wasn’t me. I was feeling worse and worse about myself as a person, and knew I was hurting him as I floundered with my own insecurities and issues. I also stopped writing on a steady basis, which proved to be most hazardous to my mental health!
This relationship ended a few weeks ago. Except for my work, and a few excursions with friends and family, I have spent this time in silence – no television or radio, or other outside distractions. I have gone for long walks with my dog, Sunshine, and I have rekindled some friendships that had been put on the back burner. A new journal book sits on my bedside table, and finds its way onto my lap every night before I go to bed. I am rediscovering me, as I spend time daily in silent meditation and prayer. And, I am shaking off all of the cobwebs that had cluttered my mind and clouded my soul.
I have also read the journal that I began writing the day after I was arrested. It was an eye-opener, as I relived the terror and fear that I encountered as I wandered through “the tunnel,” the term I mentioned on a regular basis in my writing. It helps me to understand myself better, and to appreciate the strong woman who really is me. I now have an idea growing in my brain about converting the journal into a book.
So, here I am, alone again (except for Sunshine, who is my best girlfriend)! Each day I find, and pick up, a little piece of myself that had been misplaced or hidden, and I am feeling better and better with each day.
I think of the hymn, “Amazing Grace.” I am a living testimony to God’s grace in my life, and in God’s deliverance from all my trials. I once was lost, but now am found…….
My collection of days continues.