Blurred Words

There are times in life when the words are blurred. We spend our lives slightly out of focus; not seeing what is really important in our hearts and in our lives until our lines become crossed and we don’t know who we are anymore.

In all honestly, that blur has represented the last three years of my life, and more so if I were honest about how long my vision was off.

I am on an airplane to Canada right now, and my thoughts are once again on Lance and my relationship with him. I think about where we are headed and where we have been together. I wonder how much we each really see each other and how much we blur the lines to see what we want or to have an indistinguishable picture in our minds eye.

The most precious parts of this year have been the parts of the year that expressed my freedom, and who I am as a 37 year old woman. Part of me is extremely proud of myself and then there are others that represent my shame in actions, my lack of follow-through and my fear of being alone and never again having “family” – maybe this is making me blur my lines. I sincerely hope not, but I think underneath this eternal optimist is a little scared pessimist. That is the part of myself that I loathe in the quiet moments of my life.

When I examine my life I come up with a split between these two facets of my personality and that is the point of my writing and reflecting today. I exchanged email the past couple of weeks with my ex-husband. They were in typical fashion. Mine long and wordy with lots of exclamation points made like confetti to give credence to my points or to indicate my excitement about what I was conveying. The words were still loving; still written to nurture and to encourage. His replies were the same also. The same as they had always been. Abbreviated and to the point, no hints of love lost, no bits of remorse hidden in the lines or woven into the paragraph. Still I am grateful and blessed to have had the exchange with him. It is the part of my life that haunts me to this day. It is the hole in my heart that even though healing nicely will leave a weak spot forever, so the times we connect and affirm that we indeed, were real is healing for me. The most difficult part of a divorce is pretending that the person never existed at all. That is the impossible feat for me. It is my Everest. I cannot pretend that Edward was a dream I had long ago.

Things in my life are progressing though and I am happy overall. There is, of course, a small semblance of sadness that tinges the corners of my life and I am learning that they are a part of life, not an exception or an abnormality.

This is all a part of the fabric of life. It is natural. It is fine.