Perfectly Lonely

I'm almost to the end of my journal. If I was only allowed to pass on one possession to my children, this journal would be it.

The book itself is beaten up, each page tells a story not only in words but in pictures. Although I'm not an artist, the magazine clippings, tear stains, deep thick angry writing,children's scribbles, all paint a picture of my life. My life's hopes, teachings, beliefs and insecurities have surfaced and crashed onto the pages of this book.

The pain is so dear to me. When I was on the plane, with the kids in my lap and no idea what I was doing, I made a vow that if I was going to hurt this bad, it sure as hell was going to be for something.

That something is life. I've changed. I'm stronger, independent, more confidant and feel like I am so much more balanced in the way I view marriage and people as a whole.

I didn't think I would EVER like eva, eva, say this, but..... I am thankful for the pain. I'm thankful for the maturity. I'm thankful for being able to see areas in myself I used to be blind to. I'm thankful for the dependency on God I've found. I still hurt and new crap comes up all the time, but I see the progress.

Yesterday, I was doing the squeaky cry, wondering why this can't be like childbirth. At least with childbirth there is predictable stages. When I was giving birth to Lindy and felt exhausted , hard and fast contractions and more physical pain then ever experienced before, at least I knew it was transition and I was close to the end.

Divorce isn't like that. It's like having half of your body ripped off and waiting for it to grow back. If one could do such a thing ;)

I have no idea what stage of labor I'm in, but at least I'm not at the beginning anymore.