Today vs. One Year Ago

A wise person I know has told me on more than one occasion to think back at how my life was one year ago compared to how it is today.  That's a very scary thought.

 

One year ago today, I was approximately two weeks away from totally hitting rock bottom.  I had tried to convince myself that things were good, but I knew they were not.  I had been through a divorce, which, although it wasn't ugly, there was still a great deal of pain from a 20 year marriage coming to an end.  I know now that not all of the problems of my marriage were my fault, but I was still at a point that I blamed myself and could not forgive myself.  It's funny.  It seems like forgiving yourself would be easy to do - just say the words to yourself, and it's done.  Wrong!  It didn't work like that.

 

I thought I was moving on.  I was dating a guy that for some strange reason, I thought was God's gift to the world.  At first it was too good to be true, and that should have been my clue to run.  There were many signs along the way, signs that I didn't want to see.  Everyone else saw them, and they pointed them out to me.  Now, I can definitely relate to the saying "There are none so blind as those who will not see."  I just kept making excuses, one after the other, convincing myself this would be ok.  Toward the end, I started going to the chapel almost daily and praying during my lunch hour.  I'm a person of faith, but not much of one for church, itself.  I prayed for this relationship to work out, but that wasn't what I needed to be praying for.  Then, all of a sudden, with really no clue, it was over.  I saw him for lunch one day, and by dinner, he wasn't talking to me any more.  Basically I was told that this relationship was all in my head.

 

I wasn't ready to let go.  I cried constantly.  I took Xanax to get through the days, and I took Xanax to sleep at night.  Somehow I got through work, and I got through everything I had to do for my son's sports team.  I tried to stay busy, but at that point, nothing was helping.

 

The tears fell frequently, and some days, seemed never ending.  My 18 year old son spent many evenings holding me while I cried my eyes out, telling me everything was going to be all right.  I went to the chapel even more frequently on my lunch hours.  Many times there were the same people there.  I am pretty sure that I became known as the "Lady Who Wept" as I sat in the pew, said my Rosary and cried.  People reached out to me.  My days and nights continued like this for weeks.   Lunch time was spent in the chapel, crying and praying.  I came home from work and went into my room and cried and cried, many times in my son's arms.

 

Instead of things getting easier with time, the pain became more and more unbearable.  I was beyond depressed.  Not only was my heart broken, but I was broken.  My spirit was broken.  I was dead inside.  I could no longer love, or trust.  The only thing I could feel was pain.  I NEVER would have hurt myself or taken my own life, but I honestly didn't care if I lived or died.  There were a few times I wished that I just would not wake up the next morning.  I kept praying, but the words for my prayers were becoming more difficult to find.  It got to a point that my prayers were three simple words through my tears.  "God, Help me!"

 

Weeks passed.  My friendships suffered.  No one wanted to be around me.  I didn't want to be around me.  I continued to pray for help, and one day it came.  A day or so after I had finally told myself that it was time to move on and live again, someone saw a post I had written on Facebook.  I can't remember what the post was, and neither can he, but it was obviously a cry for help.  A "friend", someone I barely knew, sent me a message reaching out to me and telling me it sounded like I needed someone to talk to.  I told him that I appreciated the offer, but I had decided it was time to move on, and I would love to get together and talk about good things, and just enjoy some company.  When the day came for us to get together, I almost chickened out of going.  I'm glad I didn't.

 

We met for a drink, and we talked about some of the things in my life, but we also talked about fun things, and we laughed.  I could not remember the last time I had laughed.  We became good friends, and hung out and talked.  Before I knew it, I had found my best friend, and I had learned to begin to live again.  I learned to laugh, to let go and have a good time, and to trust.  Finally, I learned to love again.

 

I know that if anyone is reading this, they expect me to say that this guy saved me, and in ways he did, but this has been a very long journey of self-discovery and growth.  He helped me by being my friend, by supporting me, laughing with me, letting me cry - all of which helped me find myself again.

 

I'm not broken anymore.  I treasure every day and look forward to the next one.  I enjoy my life.  I am no longer dead inside, but alive again.  I laugh and I have fun.  Some days I cry.  That's only human.  We all hurt from time to time. 

 

The journey is still on-going for me, as I am not as strong of a person as I want to be.  I'm not always as happy as I want to be, or even should be.  The thing is, I am getting there.  I am becoming the person that I was before life jaded me.  I believe in love again - when I never thought I would.  I get stronger every day.

 

I don't know if anyone at all will read this.  I certainly don't know if anyone will read it who is going through hard times like I did, but if there is anyone out there who is in the dark place that I was at, I would like this to be a message of hope.  God does answer prayers.  God does send help when it's needed.  It's also a message to say that if I survived the pain, others can, too.