How Do You?

How do you manage an impossible decision? How do you sort between two options you know will leave you unsatisfied or heartbroken? How do you find the strength to unseat plans made and throw your life back into neutral?

I don’t know, I don’t know, I don’t know.

It all felt so sure: the move to Garrison, NY; the beautiful house we would live in (one of four, each of them with a special something); the life lived surrounded by trees; a place to put our things; a school where my son could thrive.

And yet, I find myself in that forever feeling of Stuck. Trapped. Immobile. The pressure of outside circumstance continues to shoulder its way into my life, complicating my decisions, clouding my dreams.

I am bereft. I know that it’s likely my fantasy of the new life would never have been matched by mere reality, but sometimes just the adrenalin of change can redraw the colors of daily life in fresher, brighter tones. And I am so, so tired of so many things feeling so hard.

I have to remind myself it’s not ALL hard. That I can’t give in to the bruised part and let it turn everything black. I have worked too diligently to dig myself out of confusion and chaos to so flippantly toss myself backward, into the gloom.

My faith is wavering, a support is giving way, and though I want to crawl under the covers, I must keep my eyes open and keep learning, until my decision is made.

I have accepted that life is constant change. I have accepted this truth in ways both grand and small. But still, I permit myself to weep for the part of me that feels like I will never be safe again, even if that safe was an illusion.

 

About stacy

I am a writer, author, mother, former magazine editor (last at Redbook), optimist, and, above all, a searcher. I'm still searching for whom I'm really meant to be, after a series of very jarring losses: a divorce and house disaster that led to a book (Falling Apart In One Piece); a week after the book came out, my parents suddenly fell gravely ill, I resigned from my job (and, apparently, my career), my son went into crisis, my parents then rapidly died four weeks apart, and my boyfriend (who had moved in with me and my son just weeks before the book came out) began the painful journey of realizing we couldn't make our relationship work (that story unfolded on this blog). Since then I've been trying to figure out what's next. Or, in other words, how to fill in the blanks.
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6 Responses to How Do You?

  1. Lindsey says:

    Oh, that last paragraph makes me weep – I relate to it so intensely. I know the adult me is supposed to know how to let go and trust and all of that, but there’s still the child in there and a big part of my spirit grieves that sureness. Even, as you say, it’s been revealed to have been artificial.
    xox

  2. Sherry says:

    I know that feeling of paralysis. Of being on the edge and so completely unsure. I am terrified of regret. I am terrified of making a mistake, not about the little things, about the big things. It would be so nice if I could say that swimming in the sea of uncertainty for a time is OK. That eventually your path will become clear and you will know instinctually what is best for you and your son. But I have been living on the edge of wanting to leave my marraige for a year and a half, and I am no clearer now than I was at the start. So all I can say is, I get it. It is frightening. I totally can relate. Go easy. Garrison will alwasy be there.

    PS – but for what it’s worth…I grew up 10 minutes from Garrison. It really is lovely 🙂

    • stacy says:

      Sherry, it’s always good to have a first-person seal of approval. : ) I do love the area, it’s so beautiful and peaceful without being removed from every modern comfort. I’d love to live there… [[Pauses while gathering thoughts and self, pushing tears away from eyes.]] Anyway, yes. Teetering on the edge is so, so hard. And it’s also hard to make the leap and make a decision and set things into motion that can’t be undone, so I feel your situation. All I can offer is that having been through that, I survived and found a real joy in myself that had been extinguished. May you find your light re-ignited, whichever way it falls for you. Thanks for being here.

  3. None of us are safe, Stacy. But you know that already. All we can do is our best at a point in time with what we know – and no guarantees. And maybe forgive ourselves when truly there is nothing to forgive at all – when we ache from the imperfection of everything, when we come to accept how much is outside our control.

  4. Jodi says:

    What I have learned in the past nearly two years is that I am not in control. Just under two years ago I guessed the affair of my husband of nearly 24 years (it was with the Mom in a family we vacationed with etc., and at that point was pretty young—less than 6 weeks) and then spent nearly 4 months in therapy, much of it couple’s, though it was not authentic (on my end, yes….but not on the part of my partner) and in the end, we entered mediation and then divorce. My former life partner has married his affair partner (my children, ages 17 and 19 attended and provided music at the wedding). While I am not “there” (wherever that is) yet, I must say that I have been so blessed by relationships in the last nearly two years. I reached out in great need, with transparency, and people responded. My former relationships (including family) have deepened and I have new relationships because of my trauma. In fact, my experience has brought others together that may not have connected without me. While I’m not at the place, yet, where I can say “This happened for a reason” I do believe that one day, I will be there.

  5. teamgloria says:

    Oh, honey.

    Yes. Displaced. Sadness. New starts. Questioning.

    We’ve done this several times now.

    Give it time.

    Please.

    And have lots of deep bubble baths by candlelight, listening to a yummy audiobook, for company and care. And continue to write and tell the truth. It helps. For us to read, too.

    Sending a vast virtual hug from Madrid.

    _tg xxx

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