These are Tender Times

These are Tender Times

The calendar is a weird thing. Time is strange. And the moments and memories that mark certain dates and times throughout our lives can be equally so. Anniversaries of experiences can be warm and wonderful or they can be upsetting—heartbreaking even—depending on the circumstance being relived on or around a calendar day. I don’t recall being affected by many anniversaries in the past (with the exception of the birth of my children), but I know that won’t be the case anymore. Everything has changed over the past year and it’s not just the clock or calendar that reminds me, it’s my heart.

Since my separation, I’ve had endless revelations, recollections, conversations, occurrences, and emotions spinning and swirling around my head like a flurry of frenetic flecks in a snow globe. And just when the music slows and the snow begins to settle, the globe gets turned upside down again by a flash of memory or a seemly unassuming date on the calendar. And just like, that I’m back to a frenzied rush of feelings and heightened emotion. I’m starting to understand that this kind of sudden, unelicited shake up is part of the new normal and the clock nor the calendar are making it much easier to settle the storm. I agree that time does help with the healing process (so so much!) but the marking of that same time, can taunt you by bringing to attention things you’d rather forget. I’m experiencing some of that kind of upending emotion around many dates marked on the calendar that are circling around again from last year. The kind that hold significance around the unraveling of my 25 year marriage are among the most difficult.

As I feel a desperate need to express myself with today being one of those many dates, I realize it’s not the event or the details that are important really, it’s the sadness, the disappointment, and the weight I’m carrying on these “anniversaries”. In many ways it would be easier for me to not make mention of any of this and just try to get it (and all the other dates) behind me. But not acknowledging the hard days would mean staying quiet in my struggle and keeping my pain in the shadows and I don’t want to continue to live like that. So instead, I’m choosing to share the parts that are painful; give them some air, some space, some light, some attention, and some love—because I know those are all the things that can work as catalysts for true healing, one day at a time.

  • beth
    Posted at 17:29h, 25 January Reply

    One day at a time, dear friend. I love your words, I think I needed them today. I find the words on your clock particularly inspiring. Thinking of you and all the possibilities that our futures hold. ~b xo

    • Tracey
      Posted at 11:25h, 05 February Reply

      Thank you, sweet friend. Can you even beleive the words on the clock? Mind-blowing, really. And yes, here’s the the future! xo

  • Janice Croze
    Posted at 18:01h, 25 January Reply

    Beautifully expressed my friend! It is amazing how as humans we need to express our feelings and we need to feel understood. And hearing that we are not alone in those feelings, that others are there too, is everything. HUGS!!!

    • Tracey
      Posted at 11:26h, 05 February Reply

      Your comment means so much, my friend. Thank you for hearing and seeing me. xo

  • Leisa Hammett
    Posted at 19:35h, 25 January Reply

    Tracey, as someone who has done this twice, plus ample other big bumps and other life bruises, I know with certainty that there is empowerment and cathartic peace in speaking our discomfort aloud. And then I’ve learned what happens next, wonderfully, is an unexpected resonance. You’ve ventured out to the end of the plank in skewed courage. You’ve plunged. But you learn that you haven’t just taken that dive solely for yourself, it’s been for others, too. Because the moxie you’ve mustered has given them voice, tapped something in them that laid dormant, unspoken. You’ve created.a gift with your words. A gift to you. And, an unexpected gift to others. It’s courage. It’s authenticity. It’s vulnerability. It’s real. It’s what we need. What we crave. Brava. xL

    • Tracey
      Posted at 11:28h, 05 February Reply

      Oh, my friend, thank you so much for such kind and encouraging words. It means so much to me and reminds me to keep being open and honest about ALL of it. Thank you!

Post A Comment