Aching to Wake Up

My, but it's been a long time. Life got in my way, as it often does.
But now, with the holidays approaching and my heart in tatters again, I must write.
I did name this blog "Souls and Struggles", did I not? It seems most fitting today.

My husband-well, technically he is my ex-husband-and I are in the final countdown now. We are going to split again, and while that is not entirely a bad thing, it is nonetheless painful. Twenty-three years has proven not to be able to save us. So much for the value of a history together. It is simply not enough sometimes, nor is love. Love should be enough, right? I thought that, but this is not the first time illusions in my life have been shattered, nor will it probably be the last.

I start over now. The tears come and go, as does the anger. To figure out exactly what went wrong seems futile at this point. Does it matter? No, not really. Not today.
What seems to matter today is getting up out of bed, at least making an appearance in this thing I call my life. To simply not die. To keep breathing.

There are "issues", of course. Those things we have rehashed until my head swims with them. There have been accusations, denials, at times even outbursts of anger. Always tears-and fear.

Our six year old son seems to understand in some way what is happening. It breaks my heart. But to hear Mommy and Daddy argue and to hear the doors slamming and the feet stomping, to hear the name-calling....how can we put him through any more of that? Or to pretend we are something to each other that we no longer are-how can we put ourselves through that?

My God! I ask myself how this happened, and yet when I look back, I think this relationship should never have happened to begin with. If I am completely blatantly honest, we have never been on the same page, as much as we have tried to be over the years. We have both been far more needy than loving. These things they call "boundaries" have never been there for us. We have been a storm together-lightening and thunder rolling over each other, never tame. And while that has been exhilarating at times in its passion, it has too often been destructive in its pain. Now, I feel simply too old for all of this. I feel a need for peace we will never be able to give each other.

I think much of it is my fault.
A friend and I were talking this morning about "awakening", both in one's own mind and soul and the work of awakening others. I have felt for a long time now that when I faced cancer, I was drastically changed. I call it being shaken to my very core. Not shaken with a fear of death, but with a fear of not having lived the life I was supposed to. But what is that life? What am I supposed to be doing? And do I have the courage to do it?

There it is...that whisper again. That beckoning me to come...to somewhere. Call it God, call it Love, call it Awakening-this Thing will not leave me alone. There is a pattern that repeats itself, one of loss and grief that is trying to bring me to a place I do not recognize, at least not consciously. Maybe if I am able to muddle my way through-or leap from this safe cliff I peer over-I will finally have the ability to open up and fly. I will finally awaken and I will wonder why I slept so long.