Your wish is my command

July 11, 2023

It’s the morning of my divorce trial. I open my back door as the sun is beginning to rise. The air is warm with a slight breeze. I close my eyes and smile as I feel the sun on my face. When I open my eyes I notice a small grey and white feather floating downward directly in front of me. I watch it gently meander down. The left side, then the right. Left, right. Gracefully falling to the ground. I say out loud, “Please universe grant me a divorce today. Help me to be free.” As the feather reaches the ground my phone chimes. A brief and angelic dingggg as if to say, “Your wish is my command.’

Trauma leaves it’s mark. X’s and O’s across your spirit. The wounds never leave. Attempting to erase them is like trying to block out the sun. You can wear sunglasses, a hat, it can be cloudy but the sun ain’t going nowhere. Trauma can exist in physical scars or mental blocks that rear their ugly head like when you’re sneakily attempting to eat the last ice cream sandwich at 1 am which you hid in the back of the freezer so your kids don’t eat it and one of those 19037 legged insect creatures scurry by your feet like it’s trying to catch the last inbound train home so you scream and your kids wake up asking where you got that ice cream.

Trauma is leaving clean dishes in the dishwasher for days. Just leaving them there…for days. Never putting them away. Why? Why do I do this? Why is there a feeling of fear associated with putting them away? Why is there an underlying anxiety tied to the task. My brain feels blocked. I avoid. I know they are there yet I walk away from them repeatedly. And when I remember the abandoned task a pit in my stomach is produced. I dig deep into the trauma in search of an answer. I realize it’s the noise of the clanging plates and banging bowls that I am straying away from. I leave clean dishes in the dishwasher because I don’t want to make noise when putting them away. Why? I think about what might happen if I make a noise. I realize that in my previous life I would be reamed for creating noise which might disrupt the rest of a forever resting spouse. It’s not like I was attempting to recreate Mozart’s 5^th concerto with a variable assortment of bowls and plates I was simply completing a naturally noisy task. Upon solving my trauma puzzle I immediately feel lighter. A mystery had been solved. I can finally relinquish the tension I once held and face the clean dishes with gratitude.

Thank you for allowing me to live this life. Thank you for allowing me to be healthy while healing physically, mentally and emotionally. Thank you for allowing me to live instead of survive. And thank you for granting me my divorce. 😊