Poly Nirvana

Love, Life and Rational Polyamory

~Grace~

2 Comments

“Of course I’ll hurt you. Of course you’ll hurt me. Of course we will hurt each other. But this is the very condition of existence. To become spring, means accepting the risk of winter. To become presence, means accepting the risk of absence.”
~The Little Prince

I’ve misplaced my grace. 

I’m angry about a lot of things.  I don’t like it but I can’t simply will it away.  All at once I’ve reached some kind of crossroads; I can’t be quiet anymore about anything. I’m raw and upset about things a week old, a month old, twenty-five years old. I suspect the trigger is the recent turn of events with my ex-husband, who moved out of state last week and will be marrying again (his third time) in a few days.  Suddenly I’m processing events, decisions; feelings. Goddamn motherfucking feelings. 

I started seeing a new therapist a few weeks ago. I was struggling with the previous guy, who I had been seeing very off and on since my ex-husband and I had started seeing him in a last ditch effort (on my part) to work through a very broken marriage. Old Therapist also has seen multiple siblings and my father over the years, and it felt sometimes like I couldn’t shake off the role or persona of my life, and just be my stripped down self. This new one is completely open and objective with me. It’s just what I needed. And I think some of her comments have allowed me to start to purge.

Not that I’m really happy about that. I feel like I can’t stop it, and I wish I could just push it back down again and go numb.

But I am a big girl. I can only trust that I will come out the other side of this a bigger and happier girl. 

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2 thoughts on “~Grace~

  1. Ugh. The raw place. I hate having my bandaid and my scab ripped off. I hate the process sometimes, but I like the growth. I’m sorry this part is painful and I hope it is all as smooth and painless for you as possible. When it’s not, I just wanna say I’m here.

    • I like the bandaid. In fact, I probably have piled on bandaid after bandaid for so many years, that I’m not quite sure what I’m going to find when I get to the bottom of the stack. I will come find you, if, (when) I need to vent. Thank you, sweet girl.

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