RE: "All Done"

I meant it. I did.

It grieved me and I wept and shook until my eyes ran dry and my bones ached cold.


I had no words. None had worked, none had elightened, none held comfort, and then, none were kind.


I had no words. I always have words. You know that.

Too many words. Words bled out of my mouth in grief and desperation and anger, and for my part, it was not the least bit helpful.

*sigh*

In fact, my words wove themselves into a noose. If I could have shut up for even a minute, if I could have taken even one full breath, if I had not ignored the bits of my heart as they fell away in every room with every fight, then perhaps I would have done the wiser thing, the kinder thing. Because at that time, I was the one who could do the wiser and kinder thing. My husband is, however I might perceive it, in his own place of dark hurt, and so he speaks from this place. Maybe he's never been there before, I'm not sure. But I was so scared...I wasn't cool...I wasn't empathetic...I was just um...wordy.

Stupid wordy.

Couldn't get it right or clear or sensical. Then I couldn't even get it kind.

Long story short: I should have known when to shut up. And I should have remembered a frequent conversation I have with God in which I announce in no uncertain terms that I am "all done." I do believe He glances down at this silly, silly child and in His endless patience, He simply asks, "Well, LAH, tell Me then: What, exactly, have you done?"

Oh. Right.

And please don't misunderstand me, this is not exclusively my fault, and I don't take all the blame for it. We have junk. And in fact, he has more junk than either of us realized. And his junk doesn't go with my junk very well at all. But I hope that LRHF has taught us enough about the jumps and starts and fits of moving forward that we should apply it to our marriage.

Do we need help? Oh, ho, yes. And we'll get it. oh, ho, yes.

I'm re-reading this and thinking that I must be quite sleep deprived to think this piece makes a bit of sense, but I needed to say, wanted you to know, that despite our struggles and hurts and misunderstandings, we are not in the last bit "all done."

"All Done"

That's what LRHF would say when he couldn't do something, or something was hurting him, or he didn't see the point of something.



He's picked up a few new ways to make his point since then, but wisely, he keeps that sharp phrase in his back pocket for the really, really big stuff.



So I'm borrowing that no-frills-and-to-the-point sentiment today because I am tired, so tired of my own stupid, pointless rodent-on-a-reelride words. And if you think I'm tired of them, if I think my words are stupid and pointless, then consider that my husband's ears are practically bleeding. Ahhh...He doesn't want to talk anymore and doesn't see the point.

Since that's precisely when LRHF would say it, why not go with what you know?



And this I do know because I saw myself through his eyes last night.



My marriage.



"All Done."

Soulstice

Yes, I know there's no "u" in Solstice.

And yes, I do know how to edit a misspelling. I meant that u with all my heart. With all my heart because all my soul is darkening and deepening and falling, falling.

And I am afraid.

Tonight I began to light the candles at the ever earlier dusk, lighting each one, asking for mercy and illumination and grace and warmth. (Rush the season much? yes, well, desperate is desperate, thank you)

And this very small, very un-liturgical ritual is made all the more meaningful by LRHF, who is my anti-alcolyte of sorts--he follows me around, waits for me to finish, and then blows out the candles. He had a hood on tonight, but I am 99% sure it was him trailing a few feet behind me with the stealth of Walmart buggy. I don't know if his act extinguishes mine or makes it more meaningful. Isn't that funny? Does God watch this mother/son ritual and shake His Head at it's uselessness? Or does the smoke from the extinguished flame carry my voice just a bit closer to His Ear? I don't know. Maybe both.
It's a pain in the ass, but what can you do? the kid loves birthdays and birthdays have candles and...you get it now, don't you?

And Dammit, it's dark again this year. I carry my sore and tired marriage and my all-gone mother, my far away husband and my beautiful children, all on top of a very broken me, and it is all dark right now. I know that in my soul, I must go through the dark to get to the light. I know that Solstice is about the promise and the hope and the anticipation of light and rebirth and newness and growth. I know all that. If I didn't, why on earth would I go around lighting candles muttering to myself, knowing full well that LRHF was hot on my heels?

But then, there's so much I don't know. What if this is as bright as it gets? What if the days get longer, but not lighter?

I don't believe I've ever been so afraid of the dark.