Posted by: librivore | April 6, 2009

Hopefully This’ll Work…

Every day, I receive a quote and some writing from the email service of the Blue Mountain Center of Meditation. It’s a quote designed to make you think, and the writing is designed to help in your practice of clearing your mind, heart, life, whatever.

My newest idea is that, if all else fails, I can always write my comments about these emails here–where I should be writing every day anyway.

So here’s the first attempt:

The first wealth is health.
– Ralph Waldo Emerson

When you regard your life as a trust, you realize that the first resource you have to take care of is your own body. This can be startling. Even your body is not really your own. It belongs to life, and it is your responsibility to take care of it. You cannot afford to do anything that injures your body, because the body is the instrument you need for selfless action. That is the fine print of the trust agreement: when we smoke, when we overeat, when we don’t get enough exercise, we are violating the terms of the trust.

If you want to live life at its fullest, you will want to do everything possible to keep your body in vibrant health in order to give back to life a little of what it has given you.

Well, I’ve already fucked up this one, haven’t I?

That being said, I’m really enjoying my yoga classes. They give me clarity and a connection between body, mind and soul. The exercises stretch my body, making it stronger and better able to keep up with me. The breathing helps me clear my head–which needs to happen almost every hour of every day. The two activities done together focus my attention and allow me to feel like one being with a single purpose, as opposed to running around like my head has been cut off and trying to do things I really don’t care about doing.

I agree that I need to start keeping better care of myself, but sometimes the path is so difficult, all I want to do is crawl into bed and never come out. Sometimes my thoughts drive me deeper into myself, and I have to work that much harder to bring the connection back to the forefront of my attention. And the circumstances I’m in nowadays makes it even more difficult to even want to come back out. The harbor I’ve built in my mind–my sanctuary, the sacred place I feel I can go even when the world around me crumbles–is not what it should be, but it’s still sometimes better than being out in the “real” world. Where my husband no longer wants me, where I’m forced to change my life because of my own stupid mistakes.

Perhaps I just need to reorder my priorities. For the last two years or so, my top priority was my marriage–the second being graduation. Now my list has shifted, and graduation is closer than ever. What happens when that part of my life is over? Do I finally have more time for the parts of myself I’ve had to neglect–like my health? Can I finally focus on things that I’ve forced into the back of my mind, things that were labeled impractical and not really worth anything?

Normally I tend to loathe posting anything really personal, but I feel it’s time to stop feeling that way (at least about some things). Because I have to have some place where I can question what I’ve done, what I haven’t done, what I plan to do, why I plan to do it, and the reasons and thoughts behind it all. If it can’t be my own blog, where else can I go?

The first thought is, of course, about my marriage. How cliche to say, but it’s always my first thought when I wake up, and the last thing I agonize over when I allow myself to fall asleep. And it’s not separate from my other thoughts either. It’s too easy to think that Technivore forced me to become this way, but it had to be partly my fault for allowing it, right? I was so happy to have found the love of my life that I stopped thinking about myself, about my own personal growth. I found the seductiveness of “us” to be more alluring than the tired-of-thinking-about-it “me”. Which makes him right, of course–I had stopped growing during our marriage. I couldn’t even realize how bad it was until after he told me he wanted a divorce. Now that I’m forced to think of “me” again, I find myself wondering where I’d gone.

I buried the person I was before I loved him so far down that I don’t even recognize her anymore. Her independence and her desire for what I now consider selfish and childish things are alien to me. My independence now has undergone some sort of change that I don’t even know if it is true independence or not. When I take her out to look at her now, like a doll that I’d forgotten I played with in childhood, I find her pretty but not the person I want to be now. How can I throw away two or three years of my life, and go back to the person I was, when it can never be part of who I am now? That girl was still angry, still voracious for anything outside what she’d always known. The woman I am now is overweight, dependent on her idiotic husband, and scared to death of having to change. EXACTLY what that girl I used to be didn’t want to happen. I allowed my marriage to swallow me.

And now I’m left with the digested pieces of what was.

The pieces are so far gone that I’m not sure I want to reintegrate them back into what I am now. Could that girl have finished her degree, as I have? Could that girl have finished her book? But, on the same token, can I rediscover that girl’s fierce independence? Can I have that passion back?

I find that it was not just Technivore who smothered what I was. It was his lifestyle, his background, that seduced me. It is in the transition that the girl and the woman are one–where both were ridiculously pleased to have escaped the hellhole that was her life. This man had a respectable, full-time job with decent pay, a family who had no experience in abuse of any sort and who had raised their children as solid middle-class (perhaps higher), had never seen the lows of life but apparently didn’t judge those who had. Even now, it’s hard for me to face having to leave this new life, but I remember much too well how my old one was. Here, I don’t have to worry too much about paying the rent and various other bills, having enough food, whether or not my parents are going to hurt me again, and being angry about it all. It’s like being in the dark for so long you don’t recognize the light until you’re in it and you figure out how good it feels to let it caress your skin.

I’m in the goddamn light, and the light has betrayed me. I’ve become so dependent on it, it’s like an addiction I am loathe to break. I feel like I’d rather die than go back into the dark, but the man who brought me here refuses to let me stay.

It bothers me that I can’t seem to reconcile all the parts of myself and reforge my path. It bothers me to the point that I snap at myself, can’t forgive myself or him, and it’s making my life–my inner one, anyway–worse. And what’s worse, I KNOW that I’m supposed to have faith in myself, but faith has never been one of my strongest abilities. I was in the dark for far too long.

If anybody understands  this at all, if anybody has ever gone through this identity/marriage/middle-age-when-I’m-only-22 crisis, please, with all that I hold sacred, help me. I’m sick of going through everything alone.

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