Conflict

My husband and I have another one of our "fights" this morning. I don't know if you can call them fights exactly. They don't have the energy of angry outbursts and yelling. Maybe they are discussions, or disagreements? Maybe they are simply gaps between us, divides forced open by our disappointment, anger and resentment toward each other.

More and more, I am teaching myself to just breathe and step back from the conflict. To try to be loving and compassionate and keep my heart open to his needs and his pain. Otherwise, we are just focused on our own selves, each locked in a battle to get our own needs met. We both lose.

His last words to me were "You're not sorry enough" when I tried for the countless time to apologize for my mistakes in our marriage. I really don't know where to go with that. He's judging my remorse and rejecting my remorse and indicting me all at once. I understand why he is so protective of himself; I understand that my actions helped to put him in the place he's in today. I just think that there's not much I can do to move him from that walled off place. He has to move himself.

Until then, I wait. I breathe. I focus on all the good parts and count my blessings.

I often think that if I left my husband the loneliness and terror would be unbearable. But, honestly, I am lonely already, every single day. Nothing is lonelier than loving someone who is afraid to love you back, and offering yourself up to someone who sometimes rejects you.

I am already raw today, lonely and sad at the loss of my yoga sangha, an amazing group of people that I fit into. I wish my husband could give me and himself a break, and allow us to comfort each other.

Demons Can Be a Positive Influence

If you're a writer, I think you'll particularly enjoy Gilbert's thoughts on the creative process and living a life that includes art.

Coming to Completion

It's the last weekend of my yoga teacher training program. Hurray! Tomorrow's the last day, and while I am deeply sad to be losing the companionship of the fantastic group I've trained with, I am overjoyed to be finishing this responsibility.

The day was intense. Two hours of strenuous asana practice, and then the final exam. Six essay questions, three hours of straight writing, all while seated on the floor, of course.

Looking back through my notes, I reflected on all the events of the past eleven months. Sure enough, about halfway through the program, all hell broke loose in my life, just like our instructor promised it would. But I came through it all, a day, a week, a month at a time.

And now I am here. On the cusp of summer, and vacation, and long, lazy days with my beloved family. With a growing career, a regular writing habit, and a mood that continues to balance more towards the positive, the loving, and the hopeful than anything else.

Oh, and in a matter of weeks, I'll officially be a Registered Yoga Teacher!!

Namaste to you all, and my love for reading about my life. Take care and be well.

Stella Rosa Red

I cancelled my therapy appointment for this week. Instead, I spent the money on a case of my new favorite wine.

What does this say about me?

That I prefer a dip into oblivion to endless talking that doesn't seem to change anything? At least it's sweet and fruity and cheerful - perfect for the long, light days of new summer, with its promises of sprinklers and swimming, vacations and golden warm skin, late nights and blazing stars.

I'm having a lot of trouble with this never-ending therapy process and trying to reconcile it with Buddhist views that are so comforting in their suggestion to just accept the bleakness for what it is. (The joys as well.)

A Song I'm Stuck With...

This song is sweet and catchy; the video is utterly different, its own movie, a complete and engaging narrative without words. The first time I saw it, I was so struck by its hopeful futility and great passion, that it felt as if it pierced my heart. I cried...

Telling my parents

I told my parents yesterday about my plans to be a kidney donor.

They took it rather well, actually. Just stared off into the distance in mutual silence, a flat look of dismay on their faces as they churned it around in their thoughts.

When this plan sparked within me in March, I knew I wasn't ready to deal with my parents yet. While loving and supportive, they can be opinionated. I just figured there was no point in engaging them until I knew that it was even possible. Why upset them if I wasn't a match or if I wasn't qualified?

But I'm about 75% through the approval process and so far, all signals are go. I also still find myself wanting to do this, seriously thinking that I can indeed carry all the way through with it.

My husband, of course, I told from that first moment I thought of it. I cannot do this without his support. My daughters also. I've involved them all along, explaining and answering their questions. They know K and I think they understand why I would want to help her.

I'll make sure they're truly prepared before the surgery and hospital stay, just as I am now preparing myself. The deepest fear I have is that something would go horribly and inexplicably wrong in surgery. But I am a woman of deep faith in good outcomes, and leaving my daughters behind in any fashion, especially by death, is simply not an option. Simply not going to happen, and that's that.

I hadn't had a good moment to talk with my parents - they're busy, I'm busy, and they're not always the best listeners. But yesterday, enjoying the summer breezes at the park, the conversation turned to health care issues and it would have been almost deceptive not to bring this up.

Ultimately, my father said, "Well, it's your life. You get to make your decisions." Which is very nice of him.

I have good reasons for wanting to embrace a relentlessly positive, life-affirming, deeply transformative experience. It is my rebirth, and K's as well.

My Own Essay Soon to Come

I've been thinking a lot about marriage lately - why it works, why it doesn't. I noticed this morning that Sandra Tsing Loh is getting divorced. She has an essay out about her observations. I'm still mulling over my own.