I wanted to write "when shit hits the fan" on the headline. I suppose we're not there yet.
On Imbocl Bearded Daddy had an announcement to make. He was leaving. Well, technically he wanted me out of the house and out of his life. Me and the girls decided to stay and Daddy was the one who went away.
For weeks this has been too painful to write about. I have been keeping my-self busy with everything else - cleaning the house, doing the chores. Anything but thinking or writing. The analytic part in me recognizes the stages of grief: denial, break down, anger... I've been fuming with anger, crying my eyes out, rolling in despair and guilt, pleading, begging and trying to figure it out.
What has kept me up and running instead of crying and panicking is Will. I suppose this is one of those days when my true will hits the scales and is measured. Daily I keep asking my-self "what do I want?"
There are things I know I do want. I want my children happy and safe - untouched by the process of Daddy leaving and Mommy crying. I know they will me touched by it no matter what I do, but there is plenty I can and want to do right to keep them out of harms way. I want my own head and heart to come through this - if not in one piece, then in several, but I can't make grieving and bitterness my new home. They have their time, yes. But I don't intend to dwell in them.
It would be all too easy to make anger my new driving force - and some days it is. It has the absolutely great ability to get me through tough days and heartrendingly lonely nights. But hate is like Sauron's Ring - it will turn on everything you love and make everything go sour. It is the panic-force when there is nothing else to sustain you.
Pain is a lot like fire. And right now I sit on Mother Kali's funeral pyre, watching the Goddess dance and laugh, allowing the cleansing heart-breaking fire burn away everything unnecessary, old and rotten inside me. Let the hurt come. Let the pain come. I keep pace with my breath and measure time with the dancing of the flames. This is not the first big hurt in my life nor is it the last. Living, loving and creating are all games of dare - eventually you're going to pay with the loss of what you love for all the happy moments. When you dare to love, deep down you know it will not last for everything lasts but a little while on this plain.
So I let the pain be and like the flames of the forge it burns through everything redundant and reveal my true nature and my true will. If I burn to ashes, if only charred remains are left, I let my children breathe new life in my old heart. Yet I know that the one who steps out of the flames is me, only better, more pure, more me and less a creature of habit and consequence.
I bear this in mind to keep my head straight. And when there is too much of pain, so much I want to react, I look ahead. In two years, how do I want my relationship to be with Bearded Daddy - he might not be my beloved but he will always be a father to the girls. How do I want my Princesses to grow up - tangled in a web of mixed emotions between me and Daddy or strong and beautiful. These are questions I need to answer now. These are things that will be shaped and defined right this very moment - weather or not I'm ready.
What steps out of Mother Kali's funeral pyre will either be solid gold or ashes to be cast in the wind. What the pain will make of me is a question of my Will. This is where my being will be weighed.
