Giving thanks in the rain

Kame and I have a new friend. Her name is CreamsiclePumpkinPiePancakes. Pumpkin for short.

Kame isn't sure what to make of this orange-and-white tornado who has invaded his space. She climbs on his enclosure, watching as he eats, reaches through the panels to swat at him, and generally makes a nuisance of herself. The poor turtle can't even enjoy his bathing pool. She watches too cannily as he climbs up to the end, slides down his plastic ramp into the water, and climbs up to bask on the rocks. Although Pumpkin weighs little more than Kame himself, she makes him nervous and uncomfortable. He and I are a lot alike. Neither of us are fond of change.

Changes, however, are a part of life.

"Without change, there would be no butterflies."

It's the day before Thanksgiving as I write this. Ken got up this morning, fixed me breakfast, and went off to work... We spent a quiet morning together, talking about the plans for the holiday, like normal people do. We were civil and affectionate, carefully acting like everything wasn't falling apart. Like we're not quietly dismantling everything we've spent sixteen years building. Like we're not planning to divorce. Someone looking at our quiet little scene would've thought we were just another happily married couple... And once upon a time, we were.

I used to love holidays... These quiet mornings when I felt closest to my husband. When we spent time planning for spending time with the family, looking forward to relaxing and laughing together, good food and good times...
Those things are not going to go away when things change for us, but there is a sense of profound loss all the same. The holidays will still be a time of love and laughter and smiles. I believe that on my good days. But with the change looming large in front of us, moving quietly through the undercurrents of our family like a fault opening up under a neighborhood, preparing to collapse and swallow it whole... Change does not look to me like a positive thing.

I know it will be. I know, when little resentments rise up, and are quieted by knowing this state of flux is temporary, when I look toward a future in which we can be friends, and we can each live our lives without expectations, without suspicion and resentment and hurt, I know that the changes are necessary and good for our family. I know our kids will understand, one day. I know that this will get better, that it will be better.

It's raining out today. It's cold and wet and threatening to turn into sleet, sticking to the road and making everything treacherous. Soon there will be snow falling, thick and heavy and cold. I know these things must come, as they do in their season. I know also that Spring will come, in its time. With the rain falling cold and slick outside, the sun is only behind the clouds, and it will return to warm us again.

I know that the changes coming will be difficult. I know there will be tears raining, hurt feelings and cold... I know the kids won't understand, at least not at first. I know there will be pain, and I dread it. If I could live forever in this limbo, this disconnect between what is real and what they believe, and keep them happily cocooned forever, I would. I would sacrifice my own soul, bleed out a drop at a time, anything, to spare them the pain that change will bring...

But I know that butterflies left in a cocoon wither and die. I know that they must break free, they must spread their wings, they must fly. Even the struggle is a necessary part of the butterfly's emerging. If the cocoon is cut open, and they are freed too soon, the insect will perish. The fight to escape the cocoon forces the fluids in the creature's body into its wings, expanding and growing them, stretching them out to dry in the sun... until it is ready to relinquish the cocoon, and fly.

Knowing all this... I will do all I can to make this transition easier for them. I will forgive and heal and allow myself to maintain the love I had for the man who is their father. I will fight back against bitterness and anger. I will not justify wrongs, but neither will I carry the weight of grudges. For their sake, I will do what I can to be kind, to be strong, to be faithful to my God and my family, even when I feel like throwing myself down and having a colossal tantrum at the unfairness of it all. I will choose to give thanks, even now, in the rain, and I will remember the words of a very wise Sensei:

"Change is good."

~Hamato Splinter

~*~*~

Falling Away

Friends....

I wrote this post about six weeks ago. I chose, at that time, not to put it up, because my children are not aware of the decision their father and I had made.

Six weeks later, I find myself very confused. A series of events has led Ken to change his mind... And has left me standing, once again, at a crossroads.

Going back is not an option. Turning away from the path, shrugging and saying "Oh, ok, so we decided not to go this way..."

It leaves too many questions unresolved, too many steps untaken. Yet... Does moving forward mean biting the bit and running headlong into an uncertain future? I don't think so. I believe we still have a choice... Paths are still laid out before us... and we must still decide. We have no choice but to move forward... but in what direction? I don't know yet.

I am posting this because... it feels dishonest not to, and holding it back this long has caused me nothing but anxiety, self doubt and pain.

*~*~*

In the fall, the warm days can seem as if the chill will never come.

The leaves know better, though. They start to turn colors long before the first icy frost touches their edges, leaving a misty white lace and changing the landscape from the rich, vibrant greens of summer to the quieter, more sedate browns and golds of fall.

Fall brings change.

Death, decay, sleep, hibernation... the changes Fall brings can seem like an ending. For much of nature, it is an ending, the end of a life cycle for many insects and even animals, the end of a season. The leaves will die and fall away, tumbling to the ground in one grand leap of faith, dancing on the autumn breeze, free of their tether for the first... and last, time. It is an explosion of beauty and color and defiance, because the leaves know. They know winter is coming with its heavy snow. They know they are soon to be buried under the weight of frozen beauty. They know the trees will groan in their sleep as the snow lays heavy on their branches. They know, and so they dance one last time.

Knowing winter is upon them, they choose to dance.

When this journey began, this season of my life, I believed it could last. We grew through the spring, held on through the early storms, and grew rich and green in summer. There was rain, there was wind, there was sun... and we held on through it all. We grew together, and I was certain our tether would never be broken. I was sure we would grow old and brown together, there on our tree.

I was wrong.

Yesterday, Ken told me that he loves me, he respects me, but he can't be married any more. What does that mean? Can't be married anymore? You're married one moment, and then you're just... not? Does it really mean that marriage has become so stifling that he just has to break free, has to run, has to find a new way of living before he suffocates under the weight of frozen beauty? Or does it mean that the season has been spent, that our time together is just... over? The metaphor can only carry so far. Lives are meant to be shared, through many seasons, not just one, or a few. And I am no innocent. Marriage is a "we". Not a "me" and a "you". Sometime, some where, things went wrong. There wasn't enough. There was too much. The sap that nourished us has run dry and the leaves have changed color... and, it seems, the time has come to let go.

I wish I understood. I'm trying.

There is still much to decide, discussions that must take place, a life that must be divided once again into two. Grief, fear, anger... it all threatens to overwhelm me. The thought of my kids, who don't even know yet (and are the reason I can not publish this entry until things are more settled), is breaking me. Their tree is still young and green and their leaves are not ready to fall. It is their parents who have made the mistakes, not them, and we will shield them as much as we can, but I know winter will come.

I wish things were different. I wish we could have worked this out. I wish he hadn't changed his mind. I wish he still loved me. I wish... but the colors have changed, and autumn has come... and so I will let go...

And I will dance.

~*~*~

Perspective

My pictures of Kame don't always come out in perfect focus. He moves, or the camera jiggles, or the lighting simply isn't right, and sometimes the picture is just a little... off.

Did you know that a turtle whose shell is severely damaged will probably not survive? Shell cracks are as serious an injury to a turtle as a broken neck or back are to us.

Kame sports several small puncture wounds on either side of his shell. The veterinarian was alarmed when he first discovered them, but upon further examination decided he'd probably been living with them for a long time. The wounds are old, and while disturbing, are not hindering Kame's life. The vet speculated that a dog or coyote may have tried to make a meal of my little friend, and rather than finding a soft creamy center, the animal discovered it had bitten off more than it could chew.

Life is like that sometimes. When we're young, we think there's nothing we can't handle. We think we can take on the world, we'll never make a mistake or a wrong turn. We think we understand how things work... and sometimes we try to make something ours that is out of our reach, even though it's right in front of us. A slow-moving turtle must have looked like an easy target for a young coyote... Until he got a mouthful of that shell.

Experience is a harsh teacher, but it is an honest one. As painful as learning can be, I am grateful for the lessons I'm learning each day. The coyote learned that turtles are not tasty treats. I may not know yet, where all this learning is leading me, but I do know one thing: Life has only one direction, and I can only choose to stand still... or to keep going on. The only way to reach the top of a mountain is to climb... and so I will.

*~*~*

You are responsible for your life.
You can't keep blaming somebody else for your dysfunction.
Life is really about moving on.
- Oprah Winfrey

Life is like riding a bicycle. To keep your balance you must keep moving.
- Albert Einstein