I just started Elizabeth Gilbert’s book “Eat, Pray, Love”.  She begins the book by talking about the collapse of her marriage, but says that she won’t share the reasons why she didn’t want to be married anymore.   She goes on to say:

“I will also not discuss here all the reasons why I did still want to be his wife, or all his wonderfulness, or why I loved him and why I had married him and why I was unable to imagine life without him.  I won’t open any of that.  Let it be sufficient to say that, on this night, he was still my lighthouse and my albatross in equal measure.  The only thing more unthinkable than leaving was staying; the only thing more impossible that staying was leaving.  I didn’t want to destroy anything or anybody.  I just wanted to slip quietly out the back door, without causing any fuss or consequences, and then not stop running until I reached Greenland.”

Different people, different circumstances, different story – but as I read that paragraph I felt and immense feeling of relief wash over me.  It was the kind of relief you only feel when you come face to face with the evidence that you are not the only one who has been in this place.  That somewhere there is someone who has experienced what you experience, who knows your pain, who can relate to the narrative of your convoluted, crazy life.  It is the feeling of not being alone.

“The only thing more unthinkable than leaving was staying; the only thing more impossible that staying was leaving”

It was as if she was inside my head this morning, last weekend, for the past several months.  It was as if she has been watching as my brain twists and turns and tries to find a solution until eventually I feel like I’ve been ramming my head against a brick wall for hours on end.  Because although there are a million different ways to get through this situation - not one of them is neat and tidy.  Not one lets us walk away unscathed.  Not one lets us go back to ‘normal’ - whatever that was or might be in the future - without turning ourselves inside out. 

At some point during the past through months I remember saying to one of my friends, “It’s as if I have to make a choice between losing him or losing myself”.   

How does anyone make a choice like that?

There is no road through this that does not involve loss.  No path that does not include pain.  My head is spinning with the immensity of what lies ahead for me, for him, for us.  There are times when I feel so strong, so brave, so bold, and times when I feel so lost, so alone, so utterly and completely confused I want to curl up in a corner and cry.   The worst though, are the times when I am so emotionally and physically spent that I begin to shut down, the times where the numbness takes over my body and my heart – and just simple interaction seems like too much to deal with.  Those are the times when I want to slip quietly out my back door, and like Elizabeth Gilbert, not stop running until I reach Greenland (actually, I think I’d choose to run somewhere much more pleasant, even in the depths of personal emotional trauma I’m still sensible like that).

I do want to run away.  I do not want to be anyone’s wife.  I do not want to be anyone’s mother.   I want to have no responsibilities, to have nobody counting on me for anything.  I want to be entirely selfish, completely self-involved.   I yearn to have as much time as I need to retreat into solitude and meditate and wallow and take long, directionless walks where I can be deep in my self and way outside of myself at the very same time.  I want to sit on a rocky beach and listen to the waves crash for hours until they have driven every last thought from my head and I feel peace.  I want to be truly alone with myself for the first time ever.   I imagine that with enough time and space I would find the clarity I’m seeking, but maybe all I would find was time and space to experience more confusion.

I want all that, but I cannot have it.  My own need for self-exploration cannot come at the expense of my children’s well-being.  Although I cannot make my choices based on the needs of my husband, I cannot ignore them either.  I can’t take the time I so desperately desire to escape reality and float on nothingness until the answers become clear.  I can only muddle through this the best I can, trying my hardest not to cause too much collateral damage to the people who matter the most.

Somehow recently I came across the music of Leslie Nuchow.   I swear, reading the lyrics to several of her songs, that she has walked through the same space that I currently walk through.  There is one song in particular, “I don’t know what love is” that completely communicates the space I am living in right now.  For me, the ‘her’ in the lyrics is not any one particular woman, but rather just the pull I have to be with women in general – but otherwise, this song is my life.   Please listen to it if you have a chance.

I Don’t Know What Love Is – Leslie Nuchow
Lyrics `        

O…resurrect me
raise me from the dead
shower me with roses
fill my hollow head

send me an angel
a messenger, a sign
something to believe in
turn my water into wine

cause I don’t know what love is
I don’t understand
is leaving you courageous
or by staying will I reach the holy land

she covers me in blankets
and heals my aching heart
and swears this is forever
then why am I so blown apart?

cause I don’t know what love is
I don’t understand
is staying here courageous
or by leaving will I reach the holy land

o…hear this call…
o…life folds up into a tiny little ball
o…I’ll make believe
o…that I know what it is that you want from me

I don’t know what love is
I don’t understand
is leaving you courageous
or by staying will I reach the promised land
cause I don’t know what love is
I don’t understand
is staying here courageous
or by leaving will I reach the holy land
or by staying will I reach the promised land
or by leaving will I
staying will I
leaving will I
staying will I
leaving will I…