Anniversary

This stretch from February 2 to February 5 marks one year since A went to visit her paramour. I am most definitely having an emotional experience as the year cycles back. It's odd how time itself carries energies, at least for me. Maybe that is because I am oriented toward ritual and the eternal return. 

I am incredibly angry, mostly, as I'm reminded of how everything unfolded. It's clear that I have reached peace with the rightness of the break up (in fact, I realized the wisdom of it by about June, during the wild field work season in Baja). I also don't fault A for her humanity, her falling in love with a new man, her path in general. It has taken a while, and a lot of stepwork, and a lot of prayer and meditation and self-examination and letting go and a fuck of a lot of fucking work to get to forgiveness for all of these things and for myself in my own role. I think forgiving myself has been the toughest of all. 

But the fact that is stuck in my craw like a rusted razor blade soaked in battery acid and that is triggering sharp, jagged, lightning bolt anger in me is simply the way she completely dropped, ignored, ghosted, disposed of and dismissed me. I had thought there were a lot of painful experiences, and of course there are, but it turns out that for me, one of the worst things of all is to be ignored. And I believe she knew this, and maliciously and hatefully stuck the knife in and then twisted it, for the entire month of February. 

And I am recognizing that my anger is mostly not at her, but at myself. That I stayed in that abusive environment for so long. That I was willing to "work on the relationship" even after she treated me like shit for the month. It was a nightmarish month of me sleeping on the couch, barely functioning, hoping for some kind of opening to at least talk, not getting one. And her lies and sudden Invasion of the Body Snatcher behavior— creepy and surreal. As if she became a different person overnight. 

And coming home from my AA home group on Tuesday, February 14th and knowing she was on the phone with her paramour. That scene was probably the nadir. I confronted her, asked her if she was talking with him, and she said "I don't feel like answering that right now." She was as cold as the bottom of the Kelvin scale, and out beyond planet Pluto. I collapsed into uncontrollable sobbing, feeling as if my heart, guts and gonads were being torn out by a sharp-clawed hand. And she didn't give a shit. The steely distance and her total lack of compassion stayed strong in the face of my misery. 

That event did at least dislodge me from my stupor long enough to get into counseling and go to a psychiatrist for depression, which had been plaguing me for about 18 months. 

But anyway all the memories are tumbling back. So I am working on making space for what I'm feeling. 

And right now, I am angry. Angry in that shaken hornet's nest, don't you dare even think about fucking with me way. Fuck all the people who take me for granted, fuck all the people who have sold me a fucking bill of bullshit, fuck my own gullibility for believing it. That's the storm currently raging. It's cleansing, but it's also fearsome. It's not the kind of energy I'd want to work out *on someone*, if you get my drift. That would probably lead to the need for amends down the road. But I am feeling it, and it is a set of whirling blades in my chest. I know enough to remove myself from human company when I'm consumed by this kind of storm.