I'm Learning to Let Go

I’m learning to let go. It’s hard.  Every time I’ve ever walked away from someone or something, left a relationship, lost a loved one, or watched my children leave to find their own way in this world, it takes a piece of me. What I’m learning I grieve most is not often the familiarity or the presence, but the dreams that were dreamed, the hopes that held deep in my heart, and the love that was attached to that person or thing or place.  I think that’s why when it comes to my children – their growing up and moving on is bitter-sweet, because the hope that’s wrapped up with them is still possible, it’s within their independence and journey in life.  But, losing someone to death, disease, divorce or a break-up leaves a huge hole in my soul.

I’m learning to let go.  It’s complicated.  I don’t like giving up on myself or on people I love and care about.  Often though I fall into an unhealthy situation when my hope and love for them begins to effect and become destructive to me. I hate losing. I’m the biggest optimist in the world, even when my mouth is often filled with Doubt.  I struggle, because my heart, my mind, my experience, my common sense will often scream one thing – yet Optimism and Hope will be in war with those thoughts.  I’m sometimes wrong, and someone or something will surprise me and turn out for the better and Hope will celebrate.  But, the realist inside me – the one who carried the pain, the scars, the doubts, and the cautious pessimism – hates to be right because she understands that when she’s right she damages hope and optimism.  She fears she may one day find they no longer have the strength to rise again as they have so many times before.

I’m learning to let go.  It’s devastating. I’ve searched my whole life to be loved and wanted.  But, those are the two things that have escaped me most.  I’m damaged.  I’m broken.  I’m sometimes still that little girl crying out to God trying to understand why I suffer, why I’m hated and hurt so much from the people who are supposed to love me, why my own parents and children have rejected me.  I let them go, but I always held out hope they would someday choose me.  But, even in that – I’m learning to let go.

I can’t make the world love me. I can’t make someone choose me.  I can only hope and try to remain optimistic.  But, eventually – if that choosing never comes and love never appears – I will walk away because I have chosen me, and I have learned to love myself - and no matter how much Hope wills it – I will only endure for a season.  I have learned to walk way. I have now walked many miles alone. I may always be alone.  But Hope and Optimism keep praying, keep smiling, and keeps trying = and I love them for it.  

I am learning let go.  Maybe someday I’ll not have to anymore.

Till next time,

~T.L. Gray

Faith, Hope and Love

Faith, hope and Love

Life has a funny way of sometimes jumping forward, pulling you back, or getting stuck in the present that you can’t move in either direction. That complexity is what makes it life. If everything worked the way we thought it should, or our thoughts always went in a forward momentum, or our hearts always moved in a particular direction, we wouldn’t be the complicated human beings we’ve turned out to be. We’d be happy plastic people. Isn’t that the way the song goes? We’d be strong in faith, solid in hope, and brimming with love, right?

Anyway, we are complicated, complexed, and often confused. We are taught morals and values that create walls and boxes, and when life doesn’t go according to plan, we often crumble inside those boxes, doubting ourselves and becoming weak in faith, void of hope, and empty in love.

I was thinking about God and family this morning. Well, how religion often portrays God, really. I thought about the scripture in Philippians 4, “Be anxious for nothing, but in everything through prayer and supplication make your requests known to God… “, and I remembered being told more times than I can count not to worry about things, that God is watching out for me, He’s got me in his protection, and He’d make a way for me, to protect me; that my worry was detrimental and contrary to my faith. I’ve always wondered at those who would quote this scripture to me, if they’d ever suffered any real loss, any real tragedy, any real heartbreak, any real disappointment, any real set back or failure, because I had. For many years I felt weak in my faith because I still worried about the things that threatened my welfare, my children, my family, or the life I was trying to provide for them. Yet when I expressed those worries or fears, told with a smile NOT to worry, to have faith, to trust God would see me through it. Yeah, like all the things I already went through, that’s what I feared. Many of those things I worried about happened no matter my faith. Instead of feeling the strength I had often felt growing up in a severely abusive childhood, I felt like a failure, weak, and a disappointment to a god that was supposed to love and protect me. But it’s easy to talk warfare when you’ve never been in true battle. It’s easy to talk of a father’s love if you’ve never known a father’s love. But, what of us orphans who never knew love, never had a father to protect us, but a father from whom we needed protection? What of a soldier on the battlefield of life, one that’s seen the brutality of war, the ugliness of mankind? How can we ask them not to be afraid?

Lately, I’ve been thinking about the past, not really the experiences I’ve had, but the woman I used to be. I was strong, but so lost. I was damaged, yet impenetrable. But what’s changing for me now is love. I’ve known love, but I didn’t quite know how to accept it. I’ve loved deeply, but I didn’t know how to express it. I’d like to say it’s because of the love that’s growing for my Dominican Marine that’s creating/inspiring this new outlook, and perhaps that’s part of it, but it’s more of the love I’m receiving from him, from my best friends Jenna and Kenny, from my kids, but mostly it’s from the love I’m receiving for and from myself.

I heard my ex-husband is getting remarried. I’m happy for him, because I’ve only ever wanted him to find and feel love. Everyone knew we married for convenience, to fulfill responsibility, and I could never be the woman he wanted, the woman he loved, and he often made sure I was reminded I was not wanted, or desired, or acceptable. I am not without blame, because I always knew I was never in love with him either, though I respected and was faithful to him, I couldn’t give him the love he needed. What hurt most in our divorce wasn’t our separation, because now we both had an opportunity to find the love we desired, but the loss and separation of family. His family was my family for two decades, and really the only real family I ever knew. His parents were the only parents I ever really had and I loved them dearly. Still do. I miss them. Now they’ll have a new daughter and I hope it’s one they can be proud to love. The bond I have with my natural brothers isn’t one of love, but one of survivorship, and while that bond brings us together and keeps us connected on some level, it’s also the foundation of the huge wall that keeps us separated, well… that and the lying, stealing, cheating, drugs, etc. My kids love me, but they don’t need me, and they’re getting on with their lives knowing they don’t have to worry about me. I loved them more than myself and only hope they understood and felt that love from me. I often fear I damaged them because of my own lack of being able to show what was inside beneath my thick armor.

I am a vagabond, a woman without a home, without a people, without a family, yet I am a very blessed woman because I am rich in love, in friendships, and in faith. While I worry about the cares of this world, I am not afraid. Not because I cling to a scripture, to a promise, or to a faith in a god to protect me, or a man to save me. I cling to a knowledge that shit happens, but I’m strong and I’ll overcome it, and I’m not alone, because LOVE is with me. God is love. God is with me. I love me. I love my kids. I love my friends. I love my Dominican. That love … that love is my strength. That love helps me heal from a past, gives me hope for my future, and surrounds me as I walk through my present… in all its complexity and simplicity. Faith is good. Hope is beautiful. But, love is the greatest of all these things.

Till next time,



~ Love’s Lover

Melancholic Optimist

My emotions are all over the place today.  Perhaps it’s because my hormones are running rampant - my baby girl turned twenty, a budding relationship seems to have withered, I work all the time and it doesn’t seem I get anywhere, yet at the same time appreciated and admired for my abilities, talent, inspiration, and professionalism. I miss my kids like crazy. So many things have changed, yet some things still remain the same.  At the same time I’m excited and energetic this morning.  I had a GREAT workout, pushed myself a little further, a little harder (having gained over 2 lbs this week – I’m thinking because of the crepes), one of my writers are about to launch their first book, got a lot of editing done on another writer’s manuscript, my collaboration on my own current WIP is still going strong, and my prospects for the future are wide-open.

I suppose this emotional roller coaster has been coming on for the last few days.  It always happens when I’ve been with the “family”.  Friday night, I helped my daughter celebrate her upcoming 20th birthday with my ‘former’ family.  I’m beginning to hate those gatherings, because they remind me of what I left behind, what I left to pursue, and what I’ve not yet obtained.  Don’t get me wrong, I don’t regret for one second my decision to leave, but there are some things my decision cost me that hurts me to the deepest part of my soul.  For a brief moment in time, I had my family back. Then as we all climbed in our cars and went our separate ways, I’m reminded I don’t have a family anymore.

My children love me and I will always have a relationship with them, and they will always be my family.  But when I decided to separate from my husband, I lost something that was very precious to me – all the rest of the family I had. Having been estranged from my parents and siblings, my husband’s family became mine.  So, when I left him, I lost them too.  Their lives continue on without me.  They still all gather together to celebrate every birthday, holiday, and special event.  I wasn’t invited to the last two – because they didn’t involve my children.  That’s okay, I know I’m not part of the family anymore, and that was my choice.  They have their Thursday night dinners and their Sunday brunches.  They’re there for each other, see each other almost on a daily basis, take vacations together, their lives keep moving forward, without skipping a beat, not falling apart without me, not even missing me for that matter.  I go home alone, eat alone, sleep alone, work out alone, vacation alone, go on my adventures alone, celebrate my victories alone, and mourn my failures alone.

I’m not feeling sorry for myself or even sad that I do everything alone. I’m actually growing fond of being alone.  It was new for me, having never been alone in my whole life.  It’s taken some getting used to, but I am, and there are lots of things about it that I’m learning to enjoy, especially the part where other people’s decisions no longer keep me from doing things I truly enjoy.  But, I’m angry that I haven’t reached many of the emotional goals I’ve set for myself.  I’ve accomplished a lot in these last few years – done some amazing things that I’m so proud for accomplishing.  I know, without any doubt, there’s nothing I can’t do.  It doesn’t matter what it is, I’ll find a way.  It’s those things that I can’t obtain by sheer determination and hard work that continue to allude me. Those things that depend on someone else.  Will I ever trust someone else again? I don’t know if I can.

I want what everyone wants – to matter, to be loved.  Being with my former family is a reminder that I didn’t matter.  I’m not needed, not wanted, and their lives continue on without me.  Even to my close friends I have now, who happen to all live in separate parts of the world very far away from me, I essentially don’t matter.  Should I disappear tomorrow, they may miss my drama, but their lives will continue on without missing a step, because I’m not an integral part of their world.  I couldn’t have made it these last couple of years without them, but they in turn have never needed me.  So, what happens when I don’t need them as much anymore?  Will they just disappear from my lives too? It’s what I feel happening all the time.  I hear from them less and less every day. That’s what I fear. Yet, at the same time, know that if they do – I will survive.

I had a friend ask me lately why I let people so easily walk out of my life, why I don’t fight to keep them in it?  It’s simple really.  Holding onto someone that doesn’t love you and want to stay in your life doesn’t help you – it only hurts worse.  The pain of losing someone breaks your heart, but it’s not as destructive as much as loving someone that doesn’t love you back.  That destroys your soul.  I’ve already had to restore my soul from death a few times before – I don’t want to do it again.

So, on this Monday morning filled with emotional madness, I smile, and I cry, and I breathe.  I tell myself it’ll get better.  I take a moment to be thankful for all that I have been given.  I wish my daughter a happy birthday and try to impart a few words of wisdom. I exercise.  I go to work, and I live one moment at a time – and I choose to live the best I know how.  It’s all I can do. Who knows what will happen in the next moment.

Till next time,

~The Melancholic Optimist

The New Bachelorette: Dating after 40

Dating in the 21st century is so different than it was way back in the 20th century, which was the last time I entered that field, if what you could even classify what I did as dating.  And dating over 40 is even more ...well, I've not yet been able to truly designated it yet. There was no internet back then, no online dating, no meetups, and social media. 

I've been married for 20 years, so that's been two decades of having a status where I held a specific mindset - unavailable, taken, spoken for, off limits, half of a whole, not an individual, committed, married, married, married.  Throw being a mother, a leader in the church, and a career woman on top of that... and any semblance of that sexy, single woman... disappeared, as it should. 

My marriage dissolved.  Now what?

I've watched the reality shows The Bachelor and The Bachelorette for a few seasons now and I'll have to admit that I couldn't quite wrap my head around the idea of one person dating several people at one time.  It just seemed preposterous to me, full of confusion, conflicting emotions, and surely a lot of controversial issues such as honesty and faithfulness.  Because that's all I knew - honest faithfulness.  I couldn't understand how a person could be with one person one night and feel this deep 'connection' - and that be an honest connection, and then the next night feel a 'connection' with a different person.  It was an odd sentiment my brain couldn't wrap around - because I was of a commitment monogamous mindset.  I only knew how to focus on one person at a time, and that did not include me. 

My motherhood changed.  Now what?

Through the help of someone I love dearly pushing me out of my cave (the place I put myself to lick my wounds, heal, and begin my journey of self-discovery) and into the dating world of the 21st century, I've entered into my own new Bachelorette experience.  I'm now past the point of writing down, dreaming, and thinking about what I want in my future partner -my prince charming, to getting out there and discovering if he actually exists. It's scary, yet it's exciting at the same time. 

 My single status has begun.  Now what?

What do I know about dating?  NOTHING.  I know how to be married.  I know how to give up my life for someone else.  I know how to deny myself and do what's expected to fulfill an obligation.  Being single, the first thing I've learned is that I had to start thinking about me, what I want, what I don't want ...not what I think I want... but truly search my heart and soul and decide what kind of life I want the next phase of my life to consist.  I can't know what I want until I figure out who I am... who I really am ...and what really makes me  happy.  That's what I've been doing for the last couple of years. I have a list of those discoveries I'll detail in another post.

While the proverbial limos are pulling up and my potential Prince Charming steps out and introduces himself, I find myself standing in my present circumstances, looking better than I have in years, nervous anticipation filling my mind, and fear of all the unknowns pushing and pulling me. I'm taking a deep breath and telling myself to 'breathe'. 

Stay tuned for future posts on some of the things I learn while my adventures as The New Bachelorette: Dating After 40 begins.

Till next time,
~T.L. Gray

Perfect Dream

Have you ever dreamed the perfect dream to only have it turn into a nightmare?  I don’t mean a wet dream, though those can be quite nice, I’m talking about a dream so perfect – a perfect day, a perfect love, with perfect weather, in a perfect location, experiencing perfect emotions, perfect peace; happiness; just sincere happiness; nothing extravagant, simply small, but so full of love?

I had one of those dreams last night.  I was walking down a trail, someone was holding my hand, that’s all I remember is the hands; our fingers entwined.  I heard laughter. I couldn’t tell if it was mine or his.  We were just walking.  The sun shone down on us, the wind was cool and soft.  Everything was green, there was so much green.  But, it wasn’t the scenery that made it a perfect dream.  I don’t even know if it was the company, but it was the feeling. 

I didn’t feel scared. I didn’t feel alone.  I didn’t feel rejected.  I felt complete.  I felt content. I felt happy.  I felt at ease.  I trusted who I walked beside.  I was happy with who I was.  I felt loved - completely loved. I just knew – I KNEW that I’d never be alone, that I was whole, and that no matter what happened in the world, I was going to be okay.

Then I woke.

I tried so hard to go back to sleep. For that dream, I’d choose never to wake. What hurts most is knowing it is all just a dream. I’m left wondering why I can’t have that in my life right now.  It seems I live from one trial to the next.  While I have moments between, during, before, and after each trial, each testing,  it doesn’t seem like my life ever clicks to where I have a moment’s rest. 

I’m so tired.  I’m tired of crying. I’m tired of struggling. I’m tired fighting. I’m tired of losing. I’m tired of starting over. I’m tired of being alone. I’m tired of being rejected. I’m tired of feeling helpless. I’m tired of surviving. I’m tired of having to climb out, climb up and climb over.  Can’t I stand on top for a moment? I’m sure it’s just my imagination that there are people out there in this world with an easy, happy life – devoid of disaster, tragedy and chaos.  I’m sure I torture myself with wanting something that doesn’t exist.

When we fight for something, we fight for a specific outcome.  I’m pretty strong most days, keeping purpose in front of me, encouraging myself forward, pushing myself with the strength to put one foot in front of the other.  But, there are some days when I’m not strong at all and I lose sight of that hope,  and I don’t remember what I’m fighting for.

But what choice do I have?  I’m still here. I’m still breathing.  My heart still beats. It doesn’t just stop, no matter how much I want it to just stop.  I can try to numb it with alcohol, but that won’t do anything to change the situation –except only to make it worse.  I can try to mask it in a vain relationship, but like the alcohol, it’ll only lead to something worse.  I’ve tried to exercise it away, meditate through it, and vanquish it with prayer – but it’s still there. I still wake up every morning.  My prayers go unanswered. My thoughts torture me. My body constantly aches from the extreme physical measures I put it through.

I’m split in two.  There are two parts of my soul, separated, that keep me from being whole.  I feel one part shutting down more and more every day.  There’s the emotional me – and the practical me.  My practical side is a work-a-holic who thrives in work. I’m most accepted when I work.  I’m valued most for what I can do for others, not simply for who I am. That’s great for business – and business is getting better, but the emotional side of me suffers.

I don’t know how to let that part of me be free.  I’ve kept her hid for so long trying to protect her, that putting her back in her box is easy… way too easy. Every day it gets harder to try and balance the two, to make room for her, to believe she’s important.  She feels too much.  She wants too much.  She’s a naïve child who doesn’t understand and believes in stupid shit like love – believing it’s the answer to everything. 

She believes in God, miracles, positive thinking, success and romance.  She’s got a big imagination, but her dreams torture the practical side of me, overwhelming me with faith and killing me with hope.  She’s the dreamer and I’m the one left to clean up the mess her dreams leave behind.

It was her dream I had this morning.  I want her to have it so bad, but I can’t give it to her. I can’t make it happen.  I can wipe her tears away when she wakes.

My dream, the practical side of me, is that tomorrow I’ll be strong again and forget this moment of weakness. It serves no purpose.

Till next time,

~T.L. Gray

Ghostly Image

French Doors to my new apartment. Photo by T.L. Gray

I don’t know a whole lot about souls.  I can’t see one, can’t prove they exist in a court of law, and can’t give scientific evidence to establish any claims, but I can say this:  who I was a year ago is not the same person I am today, and hold hope to be different tomorrow.  I’m in transition from one reality to the next; one state of being into another; cocoon into butterfly.  However, in this transition, I’m afraid of losing some of the best parts of me with the worst, or losing myself altogether.  But I take comfort in Bukowski’s quote, because he’s right.  The fact I worry about losing parts of me, means I’ve still got those parts left to lose.

I’m going through a marital separation and in the process find the dissolution of the relationship is only one piece of the development.  Pulling our lives apart has many threads, many rungs and affects every section of my life; and the disconnection is very painful and confusing; my soul being divided. One part of me grieves for what was and could have been, yet another part of me is excited and hopeful for what can now be, but the whole thing is terrifying. 

Another thing I notice during this transformation… I can be really solid one minute and completely feeble the next; a ghostly image of my former and future selves. I’d love for everyone to only witness my strong moments, but I can’t – hell, I refuse to - hide my weak ones, because they’re evidence my soul still thrives and fights for life.

Till next time,

~T.L. Gray