no more walking wounded

It’s been two months of celebrating milestones for friends and family. Graduation time. The emotions whirl around me, joy for my friends, pride for my son who overcame great obstacles to finish and get his high school diploma, a deep and pervasive sadness masked with melancholy that I couldn’t put my finger on. Tears flowed today and I cried for my happy ending. Where is my happy ending? Where is this flood of sadness coming from? I am so tired of it washing over me like a dark wave threatening to overtake any joy.
Anniversaries. I lost track, track of the things that have happened. Sadly it is not from healing and moving on in all cases. Sadly, I still have a tendency to pack it up and move on, still carrying the old baggage with me like a valuable possession I mustn’t lose track of.
Graduation was the second time in our marriage he really let me down. I think it was the first large wound. He had gone out of town on my birthday, taken off with his boss for the ‘chance of a lifetime’, something that could really boost his music career. A career that never really transpired. Birthdays happen every year, we had more together.
My graduation was bigger. I had worked hard, I had earned honors, and it was my big day to shine. For over a month I had told him “no plans on this date, no gigs. Please don’t book a gig.” He was playing with a new band, Shiloh, and I had reason to be concerned. When it came to his music, I no longer existed, there were no boundaries between the band he was playing with and his family.
He booked a gig. I was heartbroken. I was also the dutiful supportive wife who would make this work. So sister in law, mother in law and all of our kids in tow we went to where the gig was to celebrate and see him play. The restaurant turned into a bar after eight, the kids couldn’t go in. We found a picnic table outside and had a small celebration of me, cake and presents. And he got to be the wonderful star musician. It turned out okay because I had my boys. My boys are solid, his daughter was funny and I set aside my broken heart.
Now I am reflecting. I still have a tendency to minimize, which is not the same as forgiving, it isn’t healing, it isn’t letting go. It is burying the hurt where no one can see it, including yourself. Except it doesn’t go away, it lays dormant quietly waiting to reappear. When it does you have choices, stuff it again, wallow in it or pick it up look at it and say “God what do I do with this?”
I don’t want it anymore. I don’t want to wish it away, I don’t want to minimize it, and I don’t want to wallow in it. I want it healed. I want it all healed. I am tired, the anniversaries will always be, but I am tired of them being a point where wounds are reopened. I want them healed so I can walk through them. If there are scars there are scars, but they are just reminders of where I have been on the journey. I don’t want to cry for a happy ending, that will come, but I want to walk healthy and happy through the journey fully feeling the happiness and joy with those around me!!