As I stood in the shower this morning, going about the usual routine of washing and conditioning my hair, cleansing my body, shaving my legs, activities that don’t require much thought, I realized in my mind I was planning the day ahead. I was thinking about what was on the schedule. I had spoken to my mother an hour before about her and my father joining us in November on our trip to Japan to see the autumn leaves and celebrate the Princess’ first birthday. We have business in Japan, and Blue Eyes and I have been planning this trip back to see that little nugget of happiness pretty much since the day we had to leave her behind in January (A ray of sunshine). We will be getting together with the parental unit this weekend to discuss logistics of Tokyo & Kyoto in November, and also a Rhine River Cruise for next spring. We are trying to get some really fun quality time in with my step father while we still can. He is an amazingly strong and healthy 75 year old, other than the fact that he is dying from prostate cancer. We cherish every moment we have with him. Life is short.
I also thought about the work documents needing review and a hair appointment this afternoon. Dinner will be spaghetti with sauce and spinach salad. I thought about making meatballs, but they are so labor intensive and I usually bake them and it is slated to be 90 degrees today. It was at that moment in the shower that I realized things are returning to normal. Not completely, but slowly, methodically we are getting to a safer place. Blue Eyes went to his 12 step meeting this morning, per usual. He was scheduled to have lunch with a guy from his meeting. Blue Eyes is working regularly again. He is also making sure the construction on our beach house is moving along, finally. He is diligently working his recovery. He attended a Buddhist retreat last Saturday and the theme was ‘Happiness and Letting Go.’ He was beaming with hope, full of enthusiasm and excitement when he returned home and told me all about his day. His passion was intoxicating. I am so happy he has found this new spiritual fortitude.
After exiting the shower and while drying my hair, I sat and thought about so many showers, so many months ago. The shower had been a place of agony. I would step into the shower and set to washing my hair and my mind would play those vivid and destructive images over and over again. I would feel totally alone as I stood there seemingly paralyzed by pain and fear. Many days I felt so weak I didn’t think I could stand, and I would slide my back down the wall and sit on the shower floor letting the water pound my back as tears streamed down my face. Sometimes I would sob so violently I thought surely someone would come to see if I was alright, but they didn’t. I guess they couldn’t hear me. Some of my loneliest hours were spent in that shower. When I would come out of the bathroom, I felt no better. The tears I cried after d-day were not like tears I have cried in the past. The tears brought about by betrayal were unrelenting and brought no sense of peace or contentment or resolution. They drained me of every ounce of energy I possessed. They left me depleted and with no will to move forward.
I am thankful those days are over. I have not cried in the shower in months. I barely cry at all anymore. Not like I used to. Every once in a while, a few tears sloppily fall down my cheeks when Blue Eyes and I talk about what was lost in the name of addiction, what he gave away that belonged to me, how he let his own pain perpetrate horrible torment on me, down to my soul. But now, now, I wipe them away and move on. I move forward. We have one life and it is short. I am very glad that my trauma has a shelf life. That the trauma will not spoil me forever, I am grateful.
photo credit: Raindrops falling onto water. Colours by Murray Mitchell (www.murraymitchell.com)