Monday, February 28, 2011

March Madness

There is no magic to March.  That's what I repeat over and over in my mind from mid-February to mid-April.
March marks the anniversary of the official crumbling of my marriage and the death of my husband.  Three years ago today is the deadline I set for him to have signed the divorce papers and move out of my house.  He didn't. 

March that year started with my futile, hopeless tears as I drove to the yarn store to teach a class.  I was working two jobs and teaching a class here and there for my LYS because anything was better than going home to face my wounded, emotionally crumpled husband and his very large anger.

March that year ended with him leaving my house in the coroner's van.  Was it a van?  I don't remember.  I can see his zipped body bag on the gurney like it happened yesterday but I don't remember all of the other details. I remember what he was wearing... I have no idea what I was wearing.  I remember the position of his head, the glance that passed between the paramedics as they decided there was no hope for him and switched their focus to me, the movie sound of the flash as they took photographs I'll never see.  I can't remember what I said to anyone until my mother arrived.  I don't remember texting the girl posse.  I don't remember how I spent the hours that I didn't sleep.  I don't remember who came to see me that week.

Looking back I am shocked that I was allowed to drive, to work, to speak to people.  I am shocked that I was able to leave my bed.  I don't know that I would have the strength a second time.

So it's not a real surprise that I have not been able to achieve a relationship with an available man since.  It's not a real surprise that while I am lonely and wish I had someone to spend Friday nights with my crushes and afflictions and obsessions focus on people who can't or won't ever ask me for the one thing I am not able to give: trust.  Of course I know that the truth is that it's not other people I can't trust.  My judgment was so profoundly and absolutely wrong with him that it feels I can no longer trust anything I want or need or believe.  The only thing I can trust are things I already know to be fatally flawed.

I can get through this month.  I've done it before.
And I think that means I can get through my trust issues and take another step forward.


1 comment:

  1. That day here is a blur, too. Sometimes our brains take care of us.

    And, like you, without any memory of what was going on once I did, I just kept waking up in the mornings and getting out of bed.

    You bet you'll make it through March. And any other month that dares put you to a test again.