This post is for Pour Your Heart Out weekly writing — on the blog Things I Can’t Say.
I started this blog one year ago. When I did, it was months after reading books on healing after affairs and divorce, finding web sites that went with the books, and then learning there was a whole world of “blogs” for sharing experiences and thoughts.
This blog started as a way to share the first moments and moving forward process after learning that my husband was having an affair and that the family life, and security, I thought I had was over.
I thought posting would continue on a regular basis (I had plenty of thoughts to work through). This was my first creative project after having a baby, after returning to work a different person than when I’d left, and after divorce (which was also final one year ago).
This blog was the first project that seemed a perfect next step for me – a small step for writing about and working through the past and moving forward.
From the summer into the fall last year, the weather in this area brought a tornado one day, a hurricane weeks later, and then a snowstorm in October when the leaves were still in full color bloom. Trees that towered over houses cracked and fell onto roads. Power lines came down and hung over roads, houses, and sidewalks. There was a level of eerie quietness and brokenness everywhere.
That was months ago and the remnants of cracked broken trees still lay and hang everywhere.
Then, family issues and new drama led me to realizing that the change in my marital status wouldn’t be the only change presented to me in a short amount of time. (I thought the experience of having a baby and going through a divorce right afterward would allow for a “break” from any additional issues for longer than it did).
I was someone who felt lucky to have others in my life. But someone who also, quietly, didn’t expect anyone to feel “lucky” to have me. I hoped they felt that way. But I didn’t demand attention for it. And even though I quietly wished someone would, I also didn’t demand that anyone express it. I quietly existed, hoping people felt about me the way I felt about them, and I tried to be someone who met their expectations (even the unspoken ones).
These last few months, I’ve lost words to express what it feels like to try moving on after realizing a trusted person had lied and cheated; after discovering that I had a certain role in people’s lives and living up to expectations is impossible.
I recently found a poem called “The Journey” that expressed this.