I’ve been so convinced for so long that if I could just get him to remember who I am, he’d snap out of it. Talking myself into the fact that everything that was broken could be mended.
And the kids would have a dad again.
And I would have my beautiful life back.
And she would not exist in our world.
And I would wake up with the starlight back in my eyes.
Pretty fantasy. Inconceivable goals. Not going to happen.
No, not because he won’t remember me.
But because I finally understand. I don’t need him to remember me.
I need to remember me.
The sadness is still heavy, but I’m shouldering it…and truly getting ready to lay my burden down. I’ve been chipping away at the shackles holding my wings and I can feel them starting to beat in the wind again. I am breaking the concrete that has encased me for so long and watching the tender sprouts shoot through the fresh soil. The air filling my lungs is sweet and thick with nourishment. The sunlight feels warm against my skin and the food I eat continues to reveal a new flavor each day.
I am starting to live again.
I wish I could tell you how I began to understand the need to readjust the pronouns in that sentence. To look at who I was actually speaking to. To hold up a mirror. But I’m pretty sure there is no trick to it. And no short cut, either. Sorry. It comes down to is time. It is patience. It is perseverance. It is grace. It is forgiveness. And it is focusing on gratitude. That is what eventually propels us forward.
It is that difficult and that simple all at once. I know it’s frustrating to hear, but don’t stop. The finish line is there amongst the pain, somewhere. And it will blindside you as completely as the starting line did. There is no warning. One day you will look around and be there. All you have to do is keep moving.
And life won’t be perfect…but life never is.
And the children will have the dad he chooses to be. And the dad they choose to accept.
And I will have my beautiful life back. My life is beautiful because I choose to make it so.
And she will exist forever and always in “our” world…even if he came walking back through that door. But she doesn’t have to exist in MY world.
And I am beginning to wake up with starlight in my eyes…looking for the joy in each new day, because it is a gift that I choose not to ignore.
And, he will wake up someday. He will snap out of it. He will remember me.
But I am the one who is a pretty fantasy. An inconceivable goal. Not going to happen.
Because I have chosen to forget who he was. And remember who he is.
Because I finally remember who I am.
And he’s not good enough for me.