Sometimes when my topic is so fiercely agonizing, I write in third person. I think psychologically, it helps me to think of a person I’m helping – outside or inside myself….but not really me.
The Crushing Pain of Separation – is Biologically Real
Her words were wrapped around her throat – forming coarse lumps that made her gag and panic.
She was in flight or flight mode…. Cortisol raced through her like a freight train. The inability to speak, be heard, be loved BY HIM – impacted every part of her biology.
Her heart burned and struggled to beat as the letters of her feelings took inventory of the vascular wreckage. Her heart was in spasms and shattered. LITERALLY BROKEN.
Her lungs gasped for air – every syllable felt like an embolism, like asthma, her breath was shallow and insufficient. CRACKLING. DROWNING.
Vowels and consonants scratched the lining of her stomach like ulcers, bleeding to be heard.
Her paragraphs cramped the muscles around her intestines – squeezing tighter and tighter…. Longing to be released.
There was no medicine to take, no remedy in sight. She had to live with the strangling, suffocating, dark feeling of panic knowing her screams and pleas would go unheard:
THIS IS NOT WHAT I WANT!
This is not ok with me!
WE DIDNT TRY EVERYTHING!!!!
I’m not done!
Don’t give up!!!!
Could I possibly cry any harder?
These are the notes I prepared for our conversation with our teenaged children – thinking we had a chance. Perhaps this can help others on the verge of divorce. Tend to each others SOULS! Be SOUL-TENDERS!
To our precious children – Dad and I are separating.
Relationships are about CONNECTION and GRATITUDE.
And so the journey begins…
I was bare naked, walking on a tight rope made of sharp glass, whipped and beaten by gale force arctic winds, completely exposed and struggling to breathe from the rope around my neck and the end nowhere in sight.
That was my daily visualization.
That’s what it felt like when my husband left me.
Raw. Alone. Afraid. Vulnerable. Panicked. Dumbfounded. De-bowled.
My guts were ripped from my insides, my heart literally prickled in my chest as it dismantled with every beat. My throat was dry and oxygen scarce. All of my vital organs were in shock. Cortisol raced through my bloodstream, my heart pulsed in my neck and temples, my eyes swelled from the steady flow of tears – I looked like a different, older, beaten version of me. My voice was mute – there were no words. I screamed and cried but no one heard. I was completely alone. I raged to the four walls of my 1/2 empty closet.
The tectonic plates on which I built my secure life collided and buckled – I was in an emotional earthquake surrounded by instability and chaos. Safety, trust and truth were nowhere to be found. Everything was jagged, cold, dark and cutting.
I was rejected, unloved, discarded and my husband whom I called ‘the man of my dreams’ moved on. JUST LIKE THAT.
Or was it?