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This pain is the breaking of the shell that covers my reborn soul.  Tearing down barriers, shredding old patterns, flinging off past habits, prying my own eyes open to see and irrigating my own ears to hear what I need to see and hear.  Amputating parts that are gangrenous, sloughing off dead skin.


I have that same sense of exhaustion that I felt after giving birth to Kelsea.  Only this labor is much, much longer, with no end in sight at present. And there is no epidural to numb the pain.  There is a slight sense of relief when I come out of the ether long enough to recognize that I have choices, but I just fall right back into it again, burying myself beneath the weight of my own emotions.



Later —-



Just ranted to my friend Christine about everything under the sun.  And while I feel somewhat better, I am ready for tequila and to say “FTW” for the rest of the evening.


The labor will continue, as will my laborious description of it….

The mediation visit was as expected.  We got along fine, for the most part, but for all Pat is saying he doesn’t want support, he does want me to continue to pay half the mortgage – okay, if he and Kelsea are living in the house, that is support.  I drew the line at paying half the utilities, etc.  And the mediator did seem to agree with me on that. I cried quietly off and on through most of it.  It is hard, even if it is the right thing.  I hate causing hurt.  And the sense of loss, always loss, in my life, for so many years now.  Grief makes me sleepy.  Pat unfortunately still sees this as all about my having a new partner, not about how our relationship has been so very dysfunctional for so many years.


I am willing to split whatever assets I’ve gained in the course of this marriage with him, but not the inheiritance, meager as it is.  But he still feels he needs to be compensated – that I owe him something for the 25 years we’ve been together.  And because I’m leaving him the year he turns 60, when to hear him talk about it, his life will be over and it will be impossible to start anew.  Well, I’ve worked and paid for us to be together for 25 years.  Doesn’t he owe me something?  It sucks. I have loved him for 25 years, yes, and will continue to love him.  We will continue to work together to be excellent parents to Kelsea.


And now they are moving me at work, away from my beautiful, peaceful view of the mountains, to a shared, cramped office with a view of the top of the roof.


C’mon, keep thowing ‘em.  I’ll keep catchin’ ‘em.

January 2009
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