Duh, I know.
OK, so, I'm not ready to write this. Check back in a few days.
OK, I'm back.
I am so thankful that the truth is finally in the light. I found out so serendipitously, there is no question that the Angels were involved.
I am angry. I am hurting. I thought I had grieved this thing fully already. Acceptance of this additional tidbit to my life story, is hard. Accepting this state of affairs brings new pain to my perspective of our marriage and its ending. I realize how soft I've been, how easily manipulated. How unfair I've been to myself, you know, because I was concerned about being fair to someone else. Fair is fair to both parties. And now that I have more of the facts about what is going on, that's how it will be from now on.
Since Brynn died, I get told a lot about how strong I am. I am kind of tired of everyone talking about how strong I am. I want to be like everyone else, looking at someone else's story thinking how they could never handle it. I don't know how anyone defines strength. I don't think I've ever tried to be strong. I let my tears come. Watching my kids play. While driving. Over green tea at Panera. I don't push the pain out. I feel it, and whisper gentle comforts to myself.
What I do, when my thoughts wander into that house down the street, is gently bring myself back to my own life. I am in my house, and this story is about me. Not them. If my mind keeps sneaking off to wander into someone else's house, then it's being unfaithful to its purpose. I gently, patiently remind myself, and bring myself back to my highest and best. It feels like breaking an addiction.
I know Jesus is quoted as saying "Deny Thyself." That seems to get confused into "Don't Love Thyself." Not loving yourself is a much less efficient road, and doesn't lead to good places. I lovingly, patiently, sweetly deny myself from lingering in the places of my mind that postpone healing.
I am in the business of bringing honor to my sons and daughter, thereby honoring all things. Honor honors everything, and Fair is Fair to everyone. Not everyone chooses this path.
I am glad for all of this crap. Because you, nor I, know how strong we are until we have to shovel through some of life's crap. A friend likens all of this crap in life as manuer, which seasons and turns to compost, which nourishes all the growing things in our garden. And the work of grief, like shoveling compost, strengthens us. And the strength that I've gained affords me a deeper well from which to draw happiness and peace. My prayer life, I wouldn't trade it for anything.
I know that you can be just as strong. I recommend starting by mustering up some love for yourself.