The force of my emotions the past two weeks has really dumbfounded me. My numb, zombie mode I've been in for 2 months has worn off. I now feel deep, visceral pain. My heart wounds are sharp and unrelenting. They are glass shards inside my chest.
I feel like I was kidnapped, and dropped at the base of Mount Everest, with no way to go back. I wasn't prepared. I wasn't expecting this. This is overwhelming.
I stare up at the icy, jagged rocks. The only way is up and over it. I feel that I won't make it.
--
My good friend Shannan gave me a pep talk a few days ago. I tearfully told her how last week, I had a moment of weakness and had sent some pathetic texts to my husband asking to please talk with me for just a minute or two. Of course, they were met with telling, stony silence.
Shannan told me to stop doing that. She told me of her own experience when her husband had left her (they eventually reconciled). She suggested I write a brief letter to my husband, and tell him I would respect his need for space, and I would be around if he ever wanted to talk.
Then, she stressed,
no more texts, calls, emails. No more.
Be willing to let him go and work on you, my sage friend advised.
It took me a few days to process what Shannan had wisely told me. I typed up a brief letter and emailed it to my husband (I don't know where my husband is living other than it's an apartment about 20 minutes away).
I cried. I cried while I typed it and I cried when I sent it. It hit me in waves. Women like me who are abandoned in their 30s...
Well, often we end up alone. We no longer have that youthful bloom. We have a few grays, we are a little heavier than we used to be. That thought made me cry harder.
The old me, the pre-marriage me, had always been in great physical shape, and I did some amateur modeling and I was in a couple of commercials in my early and mid-20s. I still do some modeling work every now and then, usually in bridal shows. The past few years, I have been the larger model, wearing a size 12 and up. I was bothered by my size, but it was what it was.
Now, though, my chubby body is something I'm ashamed of. My husband never told me I was beautiful since I gained weight; our sex life had deteriorated to nothing.
I was really depressed about myself last night. I was wallowing in my own self-induced mud pit.
--
Then, yesterday evening, I randomly came across a Youtube video about Shaolin Monks. They were jumping and kicking and generally looked to be whooping ass. It looked interesting. I clicked on it.
I can honestly say that this random video gave me the first few moments of clarity that I've had since my husband walked out the door.
In one segment, these barefoot monks were running up the stairs of a mountain to a temple where they would pray. The TV host that was narrating the video was trying to keep up with them, and he struggled mightily up the mountain, at one point having to crawl on all fours up the stairs. The nimble monks raced past him to the summit. He described how the monks train every day of their lives, and that is how they are able to run up a steep mountain.
The monks and the TV host practiced sparring with weapons, and showed their daily physical challenges. In one challenge, they place each foot on a wooden stump about shoulder width apart. They squat low, and the other monks place metal buckets filled with water in each hand. Bowls are placed on the head and both shoulders. The monk then has to hold that position for 10-13 minutes, keeping still enough to keep the bowls from falling off of his head and shoulders.
The TV Host, who himself was an avid martial artist and looked to be in fantastic shape, lasted about 20 seconds.
The subtitles showed an unimpressed Buddhist Abbott, who told the TV Host that if he trained every day, he would be able to do that,
eventually.
Then, there was a segment on Buddhism. The TV Host said that becoming zen meant acknowledging difficulty, and accepting it rather than running from it or fighting it. It is only then that one can grow and become enlightened.
This Youtube video quite literally took my breath away.
This was how I climb my Mount Everest.
I had tears streaming down my cheeks as it ended. I had been thinking how I would never be able to find a man again, that I would never be as attractive as I was in my early 20s as I am now. I would never be skinny again, I had told myself. I was not capable.
I was not worthy.
Something in me changed last night. I came to some realizations:
1. This is first opportunity I've had to focus just on me in over 10 years. I could change things about myself I didn't like. I could improve me. Before, I had always had to support my husband and make sure he was taken care of. I always came last (insert sex joke here).
Now, I would put myself and my daughter first. I'll talk more about parenting in a future post.
2. I have been wishing the past 5 or so years as I've gained extra weight that I would love to be in fighting shape. When I say fighting shape, I mean fit and chiseled. I have envied women who are competing on TV shows like American Ninja Warrior. I don't necessarily want to compete or anything like that, but I envied how strong and badass those women seem. I envied the washboard abs and fabulous glutes.
I've been following Keto and I've lost about 10 pounds since my husband left. I'd like to lose about 15-20 more. I've gone to my normal gym on the treadmill every now and then, but nothing consistent. I've been depressed.
I knew I needed to physically challenge myself. I need to get off my ass and work out. It makes me feel better. I also wanted to do something badass. I want to become a badass.
So I once again turned to the interwebs.
I enrolled in Kickboxing classes last night and they start a week from tomorrow. I will be out of shape, but I will get back into shape. I don't know how to kickbox in the slightest, but I will learn. I want to punch my husband, but I'll punch a bag instead.
30 minutes a session, three sessions a week.
If my husband is going to divorce me, then the last time he sees me, I am going to be in the best shape of my life. I am going to be fit as f*ck, I am going to have my hair and nails done, and I'm going to be tan.
He is going to see me, and even if it's just a 1/1000th of a millisecond, he is going to think,
Dayuuuum.
That will be enough satisfaction to me.
I am not going to roll over and have him show up with a younger, hotter woman. I am going to
slay. Yeah,
there is feisty me. Feisty me has been dormant for a long time.
3. I am going to get contacts along with my glasses. I haven't had contacts in 8 years. I'm updating my look.
4. I am going to start taking some classes on Buddhism at a Buddhist temple where I live. I think there are some valuable lessons in Buddhism that I could incorporate into my headspace and my life. Plus, I love learning about other religions and cultures. You can never be too cultured, ya know?
5. Tattoo. Yes, a tattoo. I've debated getting one my whole life. My husband didn't like them. I like them, I think they are an art form. I'm gonna get one. On my right shoulder. I don't know what yet. It will hit me at the right time. I might wuss out on this one. But if I do, fine.
If you are a spouse who has been seriously wounded by your other half and abandoned, drop a comment below with any good advice you've gotten on coping. It might just help someone else.
