There is still no cure for a wounded heart....

Betrayal

She awoke in the middle of the night, unable to breath - or to go back to sleep. Instead she sat up in the brownish dark. It was over - finally over - he had packed his personal things right after dinner - an anniversary dinner she had prepared with love - a dinner she thought would return him to a calm space in which they would reminisce about the good times, the happy times, the loving times and then they would decide to try to repair their damaged relationship, one more time. But he ate in silence, went quickly up the stairs to their bedroom, packed his personal belongings, put them in the trunk of his car and drove away without even so much as a backward glance.

The faintest tease of light moved softly against the wall. A single scolding finger of light. Saliva rushed to her mouth the way it always did before she vomited. She swallowed it down, closed her eyes, leaned against the headboard and felt weak with heartache - totally lost.  Her mind continued to work rapidly as she thought about all that had happened in their years together. It was funny how crisis recalled crisis - how pain brought back old pain. How, even now, in the throws of this most recent painful episode, she had still clung to the promise he had made to her, when not lost in a bipolar episode, that he would never leave her. And so, no matter how irrelevant and emotionally invisible she became to him, no matter how depressed he got, no matter how extreme his mood swings became, no matter how manic his depression got, no matter how unrealistic his thought processes or his accusations or his threats became, she was completely willing, once again, to put all his painful words behind them and work her way through the fog, till there was light at the end of the tunnel. Knowing him as intimately as she did, she believed that he loved her, as she did him. Realistically she knew that nothing had hurt her more than being disappointed by the one person she thought would never hurt her - and she had experienced disappointing and hurtful things he had said and done when he was in an episode fog. But she also knew, or had thought she knew, that he truly didn't mean what he said and did, but couldn't seem to control himself. Each time the fog lifted he had admitted to not meaning his damaging behaviour and promised to seek professional help so the episodes would not happen again. She had, each time, forgiven and forgotten and succeeded in returning their relationship to where they loved and cared and shared and laughed and worked hard at keeping their love growing. But the professional help never materialized and this time he had threatened that, when she least expected it, he would leave her. She didn't believe he would, as he had promised he never would, but he had, and now here she sat - broken hearted, exhausted, emotionally drained yet unable to stop the tears that were flowing down her face or the sobs that continued to erupt from her soul. 

She did feel very angry. She couldn't understand why this had happened to them, although she was well aware that a bipolar type disorder was disruptive in all ways. But she had been willing - lovingly - to hang in, work through and do whatever it took to keep them together. She could not believe that he had so selfishly chosen to make such a drastic change  - a change that would entirely and painfully alter their life and the live's of their family and their friends - all who had done nothing but love him. She couldn't fathom that she had now lost everything. She hadn't needed a man in her life - she had chosen to be with him. He was intelligent, kind, honest, gentle, sensitive, communicative, and had a sense of humour. The man of her dreams, her soul-mate. The man who had promised her a 'new world'. The man who had promised to support her, protect her, keep her safe, never hurt her. The man who would give her freedom to keep her identity, integrity and independence. But now she was having to face the reality of the man he really was. And, again, as in the past 'hard spots' in her life she had to accept that sometimes things just don't make sense. Sometimes things just aren't fair, and now she would have to discover life on her own again, and be strong enough - again - to survive the journey.  

Is there a value in being nice - or not?.....

Thought for the day:

Is there ever a time to stop being nice? A time to say "No more Ms. Nice Guy for me"? Many times along the paths of my life journey I have had to think about this before responding with a knee jerk reaction to a particular situation, or particular people within the situation.

In my definition, a nice person is someone who cares about others and is sensitive to their feelings - they are selfless, most often seeing beyond their own wishes and putting the needs of others before their own. They are the people I like to be around and they are the people I like to model myself after. 

On the other hand, there are those who assert themselves to ensure that their personal goals are being met, irrespective of the needs, wishes or opinions of others - they guiltlessly step on anyone who gets in the way of their climb up their proverbial 'ladder' . They are people I try to avoid at all costs, but people who nevertheless seem to get what they want out of life.

My thought is - can the two co-exist? Ideally, I need to be accommodating to the perspectives of others. I like to view myself as a considerate person who would willingly give up my seat to a handicapped person, who would generously toss a few coins to the outstretched hand of a homeless indigent, who would support the neighbourhood community projects, who would do whatever I could to help make life the best it can be for those within my 'circle of love'. I make a point of talking politely and criticizing sparingly.  Until...that is, I have a run-in with someone who so blithely takes advantage of me.  Am I being considerate - or a wimp - by being a 'yes man' to someone else's opinions, or by kowtowing to a tyrannical persons quirks?

Life lessons have taught me that there are times when decidedly un-nice behaviour is my best response. To achieve the greater goal, my correct response may be to deal sternly - or arrogantly, or selfishly, or deceitfully - with a person who only understands that negative language. With people who can't see beyond the big circle of their ego, I now ask myself if being nice is the correct approach or would a more stern method ultimately achieve my greater goal? I have learned that the only way to draw the line is in evaluating my motives. I have to ask myself why I need to be nice - do I believe that being nice is the right way to approach life or do I just want to be thought of as a nice person? Do I genuinely believe that I should forfeit my place in the bus line-up to another, or is it my fear of being labelled as ill-mannered? Should I give a rubber stamp approval to a family member or friend even if I don't agree with what they say or what they are doing because I am reluctant to appear disagreeable? Why do I generously offer my time and energy to others - do I want to be considered kind or do I genuinely believe in their cause?

For me, the key to achieving the best outcome, in all interactions, has been in developing an inner strength and in imparting to others - and demonstrating to myself -  the backbone to stand strong, whether that means acting with kindness and sensitivity (which is always my default), or acting with deceitful slyness or gruff sternness to those who, unfortunately, only understand negative language.  As in all interactions, kindness and compassion are necessary when deciding to be nice - or not so nice - but once certain that I'm right in my assessment of a situation, common sense prevails and I allow myself to make my correct choice.

Secrets can't keep.....

Thought for the day:

Along some of the paths of my life journey I encountered people who presented me with situations that were better left unspoken and so secrets were borne. Keeping secrets was intoxicating -  knowing  things that others didn't - having something hidden in my heart that only I knew about. The anticipation of the secret being revealed sometimes even provided a rush like no other. But eventually the secrets bore weight. They stole my breath. They held me in places that I no longer wanted to stand. They made me pick sides. They indebted me, indentured me, enslaved me, and dehumanized me. I became the secrets and the secrets became me and the two things were irreconcilable without the other to the point that I was not sure I was ever without the secrets at all. And I came to believe that I was only ever the secrets that I carried and nothing more - not a very comfortable place to have landed. Through life lessons along my journey, I have learned to eliminate secrets from my life - they have no place in my world. The truth is far more powerful than any secret. The truth, be it believed and/or accepted by others - or not - is all I need to know.....

Secrets and dreams bear weight, they steal your breath, and they hold you rooted in places you no longer want to stand.....

Secrets and Shattered Dreams

One thing her house doesn't have is a man. Not  anymore. She supposes it would be nice to have a man around the house, as the old saying goes. She supposes she should want a 'daddy', for her children, just as she had wanted one for herself. And then there are all the practical things that men seem to excel at such as remembering to have the furnace checked before the cold winter hits; making sure the air conditioner works before the hot, humid weather arrives; fixing the toilet tank when the chain gets unhooked; putting the garbage bins into the garage after pickup. But the truth is, she does have a man. She stills has her ex and he still does all those things for her even all these years later. He's still the children's daddy. He still comes to visit for Christmas, Easter and Thanksgiving. And sometimes for no reason at all. And he still gives her wonderful gifts, even when he appears to have no money! 

Some of her friends tell her that they think she is hanging on to this long-over love for him. And it's true that when he walks in the door she feels inordinately happy, despite all the bad history that has gone on between them. He was the man she thought she would never capture - the man who could rescue her from worry and lonliness. She has always been attracted to him and the attraction has never changed. She supposes it should have, knowing now that he cheated on her throughout their marriage. She supposes she should see him now as ugly and evil, but instead she just sees him as flawed, human, older. But more interesting - he has grey sideburns and sun-wrinkles at the edges of his eyes. And a thousand untold secrets behind those eyes.

His secrets were as lavish as his gifts, Their life together was dark and worrisome, and she had been totally clueless. His loving had diminished her. He was always so quick to leave the house in the morning and more often than not, even when he said he would be home right after work, he did not come back till around midnight.  And she questioned the matches from some club that she had discovered in his jacket pocket after his return from a business trip, when he had told her that the meeting had ended early and he spent a lonely evening in his hotel room watching television. She always asked and he always had explanations. Calm, annoyed explanations. She still berates herself for her idiocy in not being able to see it - in not being able to admit to herself that he was, to all intents and purposes, living a dark, rebellious and secret life. But she couldn't see it then as he was her dream come true and she didn't want to wake up.

Despite all of the negative history, she still does not understand how she could spend years of her life with someone and now be expected to hate him. Something special had drawn them together in the first place and they have children together. How can she hate the one person with whom she shares all that is worthwhile? Especially now, ten years after he had moved out, and so much of the tension is gone. She doesn't expect to ever be intimate with him again. And she doesn't care to know with whom he is intimate. Actually, he never seems to have a real relationship with anyone. And they get along better with each other now than do any of her married friends and their spouses. Realistically, though, she has come to the conclusion that, all in all, she should lose interest in marriage as she doubts relationships and can't imagine trusting a man again, certainly not enough to let him see her vulnerable. And so she has consciously chosen to never allow herself to dream again. Marriage is one of those mistakes that she will make only once.....

Along our life journey we should perceive opportunity, grasp opportunity but not misjudge opportunity.....

Thought for the day:

Why do so many people stagnate in their lives while others, at the same time and from similar backgrounds, find their 'fortune'? Is it their fault that 'fortune' passes them by, that there are no opportunities in their lives? Are the others just in the right place at the right time? Or has it something to do with perceiving and grasping opportunity when it shows itself?  Life lessons have made me aware that genuine beginnings begin with us, even when they are brought to our attention by external opportunities. Therefore, as chance favours the prepared mind, we must always be mindful of the opportunities we are offered along our paths.  

If we are mindful of the light, the dark need never be.....

Illumination

It wasn't really late, but it was very dark as she drove home. Very dark. The road was winding. The fog was thick. Within this cloak of darkness, the only things discernible were the short, shining red lights in front of her, and the small white circles from across the median. All the little blotches of red and white kept coming forward, in sync, almost as if they had their own volition. Only up close did it become obvious that these shining lights were actually affixed to vehicles - cars, trucks and vans.

Although deeply concentrating on driving with great care, the irony of the little travelling lights suddenly hit her. Strong chunks of heavy metal - vehicles - were equipped with the technological capability of traversing great distances at rapid speeds. If these chunks of metal should collide, they would wreak havoc, even death, And yet, she realized, we rely on basic, simple lights - the red ones on the rear of our car, and the white headlights leading the way in front -  to guide us. The simple, soft lights effectively warn away other vehicles from coming too close, while also illuminating our path, hopefully guiding us safely and preventing us from hitting and/or being hit by another moving vehicle.

She began to think that she encounters this type of crash/clash many times a day in the myriad of choices she makes. Choices between good and bad - right and wrong - in her lifelong struggle in choosing to be the one who takes the higher road instead of getting  pulled into the mire of revenge, anger or resentment.  The comparison to her experience driving and her everyday battles became obvious, and it was suddenly clear to her that the power of light can eradicate darkness in all areas of her life. By continually shining the simple light of truth on something, the surrounding darkness would melt into oblivion. Then darkness would not need to be fought - it would just need to be illuminated by mindfully focusing on her purpose and applying actions that would enlighten her soul.  If she could keep the truth always constant in her heart and soul as she travelled any dark, winding roads in her life journey, the potency of a simple 'light' would guide her and distill the darkness. Illumination at its best! 

  





    

The paths of my life journey have introduced me to many individuals who have given light and direction to my life..... 

Thought for the day: 

As I reflect on my past, I can now truly see that life has always been leading me towards my destiny and everyone I have met along my journey has been special to me, in some way providing me with a true life lesson. I have learned to interpret as meaningful and precious every single movement along my path. When thinking about my life, from childhood through adolescence and on to my established existence, certain specific moments of light come to my mind. Those were moments when the world suddenly appeared better, when new perspectives or new opportunities for a more fulfilled life opened up and those moments were always related to some particular person who projected a new emotion or a new mental direction into my life that allowed me to go forward.  For those individuals, I am deeply grateful.