A Moment to Capture For More Thought Later 

Sometimes for me there is little difference between a breakthrough and a breakdown. I’m not sure which happened for me just a few moments ago. The kid are gone with their dad for the weekend, so luckily I have some time to myself to work through these feelings if I find the strength. Until then, I want to record some thoughts so I can recall it all later, if this isn’t the time for the work-through. A couple of months ago I was in Half Price Books looking for books on creativity, art, women’s creativity, and books connecting mental illness/addiction to creativity for an essay I’m writing. On the same shelf was a book that had nothing to do with any of these, but the title caught my eye. It seemed familiar and it was an Oprah pick. Even though I had no idea what the book was about I bought it. I took it home and started reading it. There are several scenes in the book that would make anyone uncomfortable, but a couple in particular that gave me flashbacks to my own relationship and marriage–but not in a good way. I’d put the book down for a few days, but was always drawn back to it like bystanders to a trian wreck. Again, the book had nothing to do with the topic I was researching, and in all honesty, nothing to do with marriage or divorce but a young teen man exploring his life with disfunctional parents and his budding alternative lifestyle. But still there were two passages in particular that haunted me, beat me over the head, made me literally sick to my stomach for what the young man had gone through and vague thoughts kept shooting through my mind about knowing how he felt but I pushed those away as quickly as they shot past. I finished the book and put it aside. Honestly, I couldn’t tell you where that book is right now, and until I was sitting in the drive-thru at Taco Bell getting my nacho fix on, I hadn’t given it a second thought. Suddenly those passages popped into my head and the tears just poured. I kept thinking, “Oh my God! Is that really how it was? Is that really what happened to me? Is that how I was treated?” And not the disfunctional parents part, but some of his passages on early relationships. I won’t go into it any farther than that. Have you ever watched a movie, picked up a book, read a magazine, or whatever and had it show a part of your life in a whole new light? Or maybe that light wasn’t so new. Maybe you’ve just tossed a cover over it so it doesn’t shine so brightly and you don’t have to look at it glaringly bright shining it’s truth on you. It’s a truth I’m not proud of. And it’s a funny kind of not proud. Not the kind where you feel the need to hide in shame, but the kind of not proud where I’m ashamed I didn’t love myself better/more/enough to realize that that part of my marriage wasn’t right-at least for me. That I didn’t have to put up with it because I was married. In the back of my mind, what was going on? Even as a teen I never thought I’d find someone and get married. Was I thinking that I had to hold on, because I was lucky to get this chance and it might never come around again? Was I thinking that this was what I deserved? Was I thinking that this is just how marriage was and I was the unhealthy one for not being comfortable with it. Was I thinking I’d never make it on my own so I had to put up with it? Was I really that in love? It was probably a combination of all of the above. I’ve been told I hide myself away in my house and don’t worry about making myself attractive as a way of guaranteeing I won’t ever be hurt so badly again as I was by my ex. I think that might be true. That and I’m scared that what was my marriage is actually how it is supposed to be and that all men are like that and I don’t want to do it again. My mind raced through everyone I know looking for someone I could confide all this in, in detail, very ugly and very personal detail. I realized I didn’t have anyone I could. It’s not the type of thing you talk to your mother about. I don’t know that my sister could handle it. A counselor? Maybe, but I can’t cancel daycare for that, I need the money too badly. I’ve kept myself so safely guarded from hurt there is no one I can share something this personal and intimate with. Now mind you I’ve been divorced for four years, so you never know when this stuff is going to pop up, because I would have sworn to you an hour earlier I was over it all and didn’t give a rat’s patootie about any of that any more. So as I’m sitting in the drive-through mopping tears from my eyes with the back of my hand, and wondering if the teen at the window will be able to tell I’ve been sobbing over some karmic clue-by-four revelation smacked upside my head while I waited to order via a book called Running With Scissors that never should have been on that shelf in the first place and the random way my mind tosses up subjects that haven’t crossed my mind in months, I wonder if there really is any difference for me between a break through and a break down. I’m not sure there is.