We were in therapy late last December, JD and I.
We met with the therapist alone and together off
and on for weeks.
In my session alone before Christmas, the therapist said to me,
“Shareen, if you say the word God one more time,
your marriage is going to end.”

My marriage ended a few weeks later.

On the 18th of January, last year, I moved out of my home with JD and I left our relationship of 8 years.
Joanie was there. She went and got the truck with me.
JD was there too. He helped me pack. He drove with
the movers to my new house.
He was there too.
And he still is here. He still loves me and I still love him.
We love each other enough to endure the loss of hope
of forever together.
Even today, I cannot believe it.

This is how you move on.
With the truth that it hurts hard and bad and without
explanation.
You move on with humility.
You are powerless over death.

Words lead to actions and before you know it
you are sleeping in separate beds and a year later you
are in bed with others and still wondering how…… how….?

Grief is the only answer to loss mysterious and profound and
true. Losses are true. There is no denying them.

My new love has held me in the night sobbing, sobbing.
And he has had the wisdom to rock me gently without words.
One night he said……. “Something died that lived between you.
It is sadness. This is just such sadness for what was a great
hope.”

I never dreamed JD and I would divorce. I still cannot fully embrace the reality of it.
I had no idea it would be this way.

Marriage is a great commitment.
When you stand there making your vows
and raising your glass……… it is something profound and it has a resonance that shimmers within you and you take responsibility for it.
And you stand by and try to protect it and live up to it and sometimes
you fail.
We failed.
And a year later, honestly, it still hurts. Even more so, truly. Because now it is real.
If this is making you cry…….. it’s ok.
Me too. Me too. We are all just one girl, one woman trying to figure it out.
Cry with me.
And let my pain be your lesson.
Work hard to keep the love.
Do your very best.
Fight to keep it and if it dies, grieve with love in your heart.
It hurts more than grieving with anger.
Crying tears of love keeps the heart clean and young.
It is good to let it all go in the pink.

And know you will love again and again and again if you can
let go with love.

I am in love again.
And it is a great love.

And I am in love still.
Because it was a great love.
A great love.
Great enough to let me go to love again.

Did I promise not to hurt you?
Had I said that it would be easy?
Did you not know that it would be me
who would always hurt you most?
I love you and love is such.
Relationships are difficult.
And the first law is to stay in them.
The only hope for reward is to
remain across the room,
across the table, on the phone.
Stay.
Love is the only reason we are here.
We will never get it right all the time.
We will fail and fail and fail, flawed and
pathetic as we are.
We humans. What do we know?
Absolutely nothing much of the time
And our greatest folly is behaving as though
we are experts.

This New Year, resolve to know nothing,
to get it all wrong and to be completely lost.
Prepare for a year of great learning and
perfect guidance and direction.
Happy New Year.
Take notes.
It’s going to be a good one.

The spirit is a hungry hunter for truth.
It will always deliver you to
the very thing you need to know
and often it is the thing you fear.
Sometimes change is introduced by little drops
and other times through a torrential rain,
and sometimes we need a Tsunami to take us.
The following day nothing is the same
and change begins without your conscious consent
and as a result of all your secret longing.

Warm coffee by my side.
The sound of my dryer.
Sun light spilling into the office.
The morning is good.

In the other room my new love
reads the paper.

We are crossing many bridges together.
Some things I have learned:

When you drive across a long suspension
bridge, drive in quiet and enjoy the view.

When crossing a stream on a small wooden bridge,
skip and laugh.
Dance if you wish.

But if the bridge is made of rope and hangs high above
a canyon, take it slow and hold the guard rails.
If you get terrified stop.
Sit if you have to.
Breathe.
And tell the truth.

I meet us everywhere,
we the women who work hard,
serve others, care and create and perform,
heal and inspire and do and do and do perhaps too much.
We are responsible and committed.
We are focused and conscious.
We return our mail and our calls,
take an interest and show up, and we give,
and give and give perhaps too much.
At the end of my bar method class we lay on the mats.
The music shifts.
A hard driving beat slows and softens and the room
fills with piano and violin.
Our heart rates slow and our minds let go.
The world falls away.
Together we sigh into a great stillness.
And we hold a singular silence.
In these moments there is nothing to do, nowhere to go.
We are finally in attendance to our selves.
For women about the We this is a moment of Me.
From this place of reunion I opened my eyes.
I turned ready to put my mat away and took in my neighbor.
Her eyes were still closed as tears
spilled onto her cheeks.
She then took both her hands to her face
and held them there.
I watched her breathing into her hands,
As one would into the neck of a loved one too long gone.