A Signed Divorced Decree

I was still a little broken; I hid it well, but deep down things weren’t peachy. I was also still a little lost. I felt the universe had forced my hand and I didn’t understand why. I was afraid to examine the feelings too closely, so I shuttered them deep within and ignored the fact that I couldn’t speak about the fact that life, my life, had gone up in a cloud of smoke. I ignored the fact that I wasn’t sleeping well and, at times, barely breathing.

Then, I settled in to this strange new existence and accepted that maybe things do always happen for a reason, and maybe this was the reason. Maybe I needed time. Maybe I needed the time to slowly heal and accept, and then I needed the time after that to celebrate and see the possibilities again. I needed mornings spent sipping coffee, and evenings spent writing thoughts on a page. 

Filling page after page with smudges and stained thought. Later, I wrote in my journal that I felt “removed, relaxed, a slight sick feeling in my stomach”. I did not cry, I noted proudly, until I was walking through the tunnel from the gate of my past life, still just a little bit broken.
I stood mesmerized, holding the paper in my hand tightly, the one that held the power to allow me to move on, to get over the delusions of life. I didn’t know it at the time, but I found peace in that piece of paper, a sense of quiet inner security. A calmness I had never felt, or shared before, until now. A peace in the ending.......a peace in the finality of it finally being over, a closure, which only then, allowed me to move forward.