to be or not to be

i've returned 3 x's here today to this, my comfort zone. sometimes, i feel writing is the only one and true thing that makes me feel whole. validated. heard. it is my voice in the void. my thoughts and prayers and confessions of a soul broken, tattered. torn. but healing. surviving.

this is the one place i feel i have breathing room. enough space to slowly let it out.

let it go.

i used to frequent a certain tennis court when we lived in california. i seemed to have a knack for showing up when it was vacant, and i always breathed a sigh of relief when i rounded that corner. at such a challenging time in my life, that piece of concrete was like the span of the ocean, in my eyes. it was mine, that space. i could run up and down the court, at my pace. i could slam the net again and again. i could sit, in the cool of the shade.

those closest to you don't always want to hear that sound in your voice. the sound that tells them its one of "those days". its hard to listen to pain and easier to wax over the complicated confusing details of life, replacing it instead, with the normal and the mundane. and here, in so many words, i think there is a kinship. here, where the broken-hearted come to speak.

candace called late the other night while i was at work. i was in the middle of mopping. 'stopped mid-stride and answered "hello".... her voice was on the other end. as it always does, my throat
involuntarily catches when i realize it is her.

we talked for well over an hour that night. inevitably, the conversation always turns towards k. she mentioned she'd gone to a ballgame with an aunt. between innings, this particular aunt shared bits of wisdom on her understanding of the balance between love and loss in marriage. and she'd made the comment to candace that the day she'd finally realized her marriage could be salvaged, was the day she recognized that she didn't need to be there. but that she wanted to.

candace said she wasn't sure if she was there yet. at that point. and surprisingly, i was able to understand that. often, when she calls, i'm transported back to the tender age of 15, standing in front of my stepmother, 80's bangs in my eyes, her hands on my shoulders. pleading with me to " give your dad a chance. he's not the same man...." the rest of the conversation always trailing off there in my mind. where i ceased listening, instead only remembering the hurt. the pain and betrayal and abandonment and abuse. he could never be any different, in my child-like mind. it has been the same, when candace brings k into our conversation. as tho she is silently begging my understanding. my acceptance. my forgiveness, in spite of.

she needs me to share in this journey, because of the tainted connection that brings us here. because noone else ever can truly understand. there have been so many instances along this road where i've wanted to slap her dead in the face. because her husband raped me. because he single-handedly tore apart lives and marriages and simply walked away. because she chose to stay. because she loves him in spite of his indescretions, his affairs, his addictions. because she needs so desperately for me to validate her pain. her struggle. her story, tho she incapable of doing the same for me. finding the objective in the face of such crappy circumstances, is not so easy, my friends.

i mentioned to jason that we'd spoke again. he took a long, deep breath. "what did she want?"

i answered simply, "she wanted to be heard."

i haven't needed to be caught up in the thick of her issues. there are moments when i've wanted to point out in detail, the obvious flaws to her fairytale. that i know far too much about this life. this betrayal. about lies and sex addiction and actions gone too far and demons not faced.... that i've been there.

i haven't needed to hear her hurt and anger. to deal with hers, on top of my own. after all, its not fair. its never been fair. it will never be fair. i was the one wounded, yet she's the one that cries.

but its funny, after all this time, that in the process of me letting go. of turning it over to God. of forgiving....my own needs to be heard and validated and justified and defended have slowly crept away. and i'm left, not with the need, but the want to just be here.

oh, i have my days. i always will. its a daily struggle to remind yourself to just be. in the moment. in the now. to trust when that trust is no longer sacred. when that trust is broken.

and i realized this, the other night, as i let her talk. i found myself somehow grateful for this understanding, along this road that has been so painfully traveled. it is what it is. and if i hadn't had the grace of people willing to listen to me along my way in life....well, i don't know where i'd be, today. i recognized it in the coming home from christy's the other night and admitting to jason that i wanted to be here.

not to need, but to want. and it is a powerful thing. one that makes all the difference in the world.