“Almost everything will work again if you unplug it for a few minutes, including you.” – Anne Lamott
Hello again. Here I am finally plugging back in to one of the things I find most important–sharing my voice, filling the silence. Long time no… anything. If you came here to hear from me recently and not so recently, you would perhaps have had the already present words echoing around the once again created void.
Many months ago, I found myself harboring a resentment. Dwelling on what I thought should have happened and then mulling over all that was occurring–or should I say, had occurred. I put my trust with someone and at a time when I was still dealing with so much grief and struggle; I was placed in a place that I did not want to be in. Hurting, but being put on the spot by someone who was supposed to be one of my “safe places.” Angrily being told I was picking all the wrong things to do and work on. That my working on myself, learning how to deal with my grief (which they had encouraged), was overshadowing the things they felt were more important for me to be considering. That I was choosing one place or situation or group of people over another and that it needed to be changed. This person looked at me and asked, “How much Grief Share do you need anyways?”
I was at a loss for words, I just stood there, not knowing how to respond and trying not to cry. I managed to get some sort of words out, that allowed the conversation to end and walked away. I was in shock, dumbfounded, how could this person be so harsh, so ugly with their words? I simply didn’t know, and I also didn’t know what to do about the situation. Now, this person did send an apologetic text, expressing that they were sorry for their behavior and hoped that I could forgive them. I said I did, because I wanted to, but it ended up creating a harder path to travel with this person. A path I would try to stay on until I simply could not any longer.
For me, the text was never enough, it could have been generated by AI for all I knew and what I wanted was to hear this person voice the apology, to see the truth of it in their face… but that is something that never happened. We ventured to some of the same places, and this person would reach out to me and offer me a ride, (what was I supposed to say, NO, I don’t want to ride with you. That would have been rude, I couldn’t be rude.) Many times I was tired and someone else driving was an appreciated gesture. We would be in the car together, and more times than not, they would act like nothing, had ever happened between us. This relational exchange was so frustrating, but I couldn’t find the words to say so, so I just kept wading in the sludge of our relationship.
This went on for a while, too long, mostly because I simply didn’t know how to end things, or even if that was indeed what I was supposed to do. So, I mustered the energy to keep trudging, even as the situation thickened around me. I continued wading in the sludge that was our toxic relationship. I did this daily, to my own detriment, until I simply couldn’t any longer.
The group of friends we shared often did things together, I was missing my other friends, but the idea of having to share space with this one person was often overwhelming and finally I knew that I had to make a hard choice if I were to keep my peace of mind, my sanity. So, I found a way to say all that I needed to say, back to the beginning incident. I shared that I did forgive them, but there was still so much ache, so much anguish from that previous moment, that I could simply not continue to have a relationship with them. The trust between us was no longer present, it had been dissolved by their actions and their words that day.
Feeling the freedom of that not-so-small action was short-lived, because I had to be intentional about where I went and what I did, choosing my steps wisely. But these choices, and frankly, lack of steps began a journey into a quiet abyss. And there I stayed, not doing much of anything unless it was with my family or church related. Top that with the fact I work from home, I became the Queen of Isolation, and in the beginning, it felt like sanctuary.
That sanctuary was short-lived. I saw the signs; I saw what I was doing–or better said, not doing–and did nothing to change. It wasn’t until my TV broke and while waiting for a part to try and fix it to arrive, I would watch the smaller TV in my bedroom, which is also my office. So, I went from isolating in my apartment, to isolating in my bedroom for hours on end. I suddenly realized how small my world was becoming. Self-created. I needed to make the effort for something to change. I had to make a change, or I might keep sliding further into the abyss. Telling myself the lies of old– there’s next to no one I can trust outside of family and I am better off alone; I can count on me… count on me to go crazy!
So, I am trying, trying to venture back out into the world again. A world that is larger than church or one of my children’s homes. It’s been interesting and I am probably still not getting out as much as I should, but I am trying. I have started going to a new/old fellowship group at church on a night I have open and its part of starting. Starting to do things differently, because I do know all too well, that doing the same thing over and over, is indeed only clinging to insanity. It’s time to let go.
It’s time to let go and let God, how many times have I heard that, said it myself, but still did nothing different. So here I am letting go of the chains that hold me down in this abyss and reaching out to the hands that are reaching out to me–most importantly to His hand, reaching down to lift me out and back into the vibrant colors of fall. I have a grin suddenly coming across my face, as the fall, this awkward month of October, used to be the anchor of another abyss. The abyss that led me to Greif Share and learning how to let go of the hurt and pain and instead hang onto the moments that lighten our hearts and lift us up out of the abyss.
