A Girl in the Attic with a Light.

Halloween is over.

It was fun.  Not overly stressful.  My son, in all his luminescent, energetic glory, was a Fire Chief.  I think we had a total of five Halloween-esque type of small gathering thingies over the course of 1.5 weeks.  Still happy it's over.

I did not get the job that I interviewed three times for.  Yes I was called to the organization for a grand total of three different progressive interviews.  Ultimately, I fell.  From a high place.  Just call me Abraham Lincoln.  Or don't.  Whichever.

I am seriously considering opening my own office again and planning to do it, progressively, over the course of the next 6 months to a year.

Also, I had a somewhat emotional conversation with my ex-spouse yesterday that brought me closer to closure.  All year I have been inching towards healing.  Sometimes it's been five stumbles forward and one knee-scraping tumble backwards.  Yesterday I took a giant, rendering leap in Healing's direction.  A giant leap towards really being able to stuff this marital separation/divorce into a box that I can place on a shelf in my heart.  I won't seal the box up, I will just lightly close the lid.  I will then delicately place it on the shelf, turn around and walk forward toward the light.

Imagine that I am girl in an attic.  I have a box in front of me.  A lid lies to the side of me.  Say the box is a pleasant, eye-pleasing shade of salmon.  A mixture of deep pink like a heart, orange like a sunrise, warm like love.  Strewn about me are clothes and sundry items and some sentimental things.  My job is to put a house worth of belongings neatly into this small, salmon box.  I am still in the process.

Ex-Spouse said that we had a great friendship and that is what kept us together for almost a decade.  Interestingly, its the same thing I have been saying over and over for a long time.  Once again, we saw eye to eye.  He also said that it is better for both of us that we move on from the marriage.  That this is better for both of us and didn't I agree?  I agreed.  Ojo a ojo.

I hung up the phone and really felt a visceral glimmer of hope.  A hope we will reclaim our friendship someday, that it will just look different.  I think I felt for the first time that he was releasing me.

I said it before and I'll say it again:  My marriage did not fail.  My marriage ended.

And a new life is beginning for both of us.

The Great Unknowns sing a song that has the lyric, "Why did God make forever such a long, long time?"  If he and I had only promised each other 9 years, the marriage would be considered a resounding success.  A marriage for 9 years.

I'm going to pretend that what we meant that fated day that we stood together, hearts pounding and palms sweaty, at the altar was:  I will share my life with you, I will be your witness and love and care for you, but after nine years, I will set you free.  Our marriage will end.  But our friendship never will.  It will be hard.  I encourage you now as I hope to be able to then to free yourself from the anger and the pain.  I will encourage you to heal.  I know you.  I will know that I knew you then.  You are worthy of knowing and you are worthy of wanting to marry.   I know you are good people and that is why I promised myself to you.  I will still care for you, but differently.  I will still raise our son with you.  I will respect you and care for you, even if that part of my heart has to shrink to make room for another, and if you are ever in a pinch I am here.  So after 9 years, you will still have me, I will just not be your husband / wife.  You may have another husband or wife and I will not resent that.

My Baha'i tutor came over this past Sunday.  She has beautiful brown skin, a soft creamy voice and a tranquil affectation.  She also has a boy's name which I love.  She said, "God does not want you to be mired in shame.  God wants your inner light to shine.  God wants you to cast away the guilt and to walk with dignity.  That is what God wants for all of us."