Saturday is the 3-year anniversary of my divorce. It’s been a wild ride. Many of you have walked the path with me, and it’s truly been a winding, uphill, and downhill muddy thing. I’ve been bloodied more than once in the battle for healing and life. I still get a little tossed around and fall into the pits on occasion, but “OMG”, I am so not the person I was 3 years ago.
You know how deep the pain was and how high the fire of anger blazed
For those who’ve been here that long, you know the fear and the paralyzation that comes with it all. The loss of the marriage was just one event on that calendar. The loss of kids, jobs, my home, my life facing the years and years of abuse. But the gains “OMG”, I gained a host of friends from FWW, and several very close ones. Not just any old friends, but those who ‘speak my language’, the language of ‘narcdom’, if I say cognitive dissonance, or word salad, or projection, or narc victim syndrome, or gas-lighting, or flying monkeys. You know exactly what I said, what it means, and God help you, how it feels. That is so comforting. Some of you have taken calls at 3 in the morning. Some have called at 3 in the morning. I’ve met some of you, and loved you. I’ve talked a few off the ledge, and have been talked off of it too.
Some of you know just how stunted I’ve been most of my life, and how I was old before my time. Some of you know the more ghastly details of a failed sex life with a narc that turned out to be gay, and the pain and confusion that brings. For the new ladies, “OMG”, I want you to know, walk that path, and wallow in it. Learn the lingo. Hold onto us, let us hold you; healing is like nothing you can even envision right now. It’s worth all gold in the world, all the tea in china is so hard to get to and so comfortable and delicious when you do.
I love laughing. I love teasing. I love that I fell in love, and that I kept my integrity
I love the possibility of maybe dating someone appropriate and getting it right someday. I miss my kids, but I love not being treated like a piece of garbage. I love that the whore who wanted the stupid narc has what she wanted. Actually I laugh my ass off at what she’s done to herself. The outside can be as sparkly as they want to paint it, but I KNOW who she’s living with, and she demanded it. How great is that?
I love that my granddaughter is coming, even if I never get to hold her. My God showed me who she is in such a spectacular way. My prayer is that like John the Baptist He visits her and fills her with His Holy Spirit even in the womb, and that for all her life once she’s born that she will recognize His voice and His face. My life’s not perfect. I’m still lonely. I’m still broke, but I’m happy — bone deep smiling happy.
I didn’t just survive; I’m beginning to thrive
I’ve been working in my yard and designing creative artsy things to do as soon as I get the income up in my new business. I hear his voice as a tiny annoying thing that says “that’s stupid, why would you put THAT in your yard?” “The neighbors will all think its stupid”. And like an annoying insect I just brush it aside. He’s not even a barking Chihuahua anymore. He’s just the faintest whisper across my mind occasionally. I saw a picture the other day while unpacking boxes, and all I saw was the sneer, the selfishness, the complete failure of a human being; no love, no laughter, no concern, no giving or happiness. I just tossed it aside completely repulsed.
I look around my home, my new town, my new job, my new womanhood, my new hope, and I just feel ‘OK’. Maybe I’m not complete yet, but barreling straight toward it. I’m putting in a song I wrote, then a poem. Both speak of the two sides of me that are still there. One speaks of the past me that’s fading, the other of the new me that’s growing.
When you’ve been as suppressed and fearful as I have been my whole life, even writing the poem was a huge deal, and the best part is it’s really how I feel now. There’s so much I’ve missed. So much I’ve been denied. I’m still the sane moral woman I’ve always been, but the ‘safe’ ’afraid’ ’I may get hurt if I try something new’, ’too concerned with image’, ’too afraid to hurt someone’s feelings’ person I’ve always been is gone. In her place a woman who wishes I was young enough to climb mountains, to hang glide, to learn to ski off mountains, to live on the edge for just a little while, tour the world, hang out the side of a train and feel the wind in my face, feel the excitement of young love and sex that I missed is just growing daily. The cowboy woke something in me that has taken over. I wrote a prayer a while back that I may share someday, but it’s about needing a man in my life and all that I’ve missed in that department and may just be too much. But I just want to recapture as much of life as I can. I’m not 25, 35, or even 45 anymore, but I don’t want to miss one more thing.
My Question to each of you, and I’d really like you to put it in the comments, “are any of you experiencing this need for excitement to ‘catch up’, to live just a little crazy and on the edge, making up for the years and years of boredom with a man who refused anything? Or is it just because my life story was abuse and deprivation from birth. Or did the cowboy plant seeds of rebellion in me and they’ve taken root? I don’t know, I just know that right now. Driving fast, singing loud, dressing up, watching movies, sometimes just being totally outrageous wishing I could hop a plane and tour the world Or meet a man and explore his mind, heart, soul, and other parts…lol. I feel a restlessness I’ve never felt before. Are any of you having this experience?