MaMaLiRZ

The storm rages outside the window. I watch as the rain pellets land on the glistening glass and roll down to the sill, the steam of the hot sun evaporating. Spots becoming streaks. The blue sky, now, fully engulfed by the black, furious clouds. The communication between the cloud and the sky has turned to the screaming of thunder and the yelling of lightening. Flash, bang. Bang, Flash. Instant and equal arguments clashing, irrespective of the other yet caused and effected.

Like the storm outside, there is an internal storm that inundates my senses. It was my decision and I must live with the consequences. Just as I teach my children, I too, must accept. Hind-sight doesn’t exist in the present. Doesn’t exist in the now. Hind-sight is by definition, predicting the past. An oxymoron. There is no clarity in the now. Hind-sight portrays the outcome of the choice, not the alternative choice. A child whose parents stayed together may say you should have divorced. But they can’t know, there is no coexistence of the alternative at the exact same time. Perhaps in a different universe or dimension but not in this one, not here and not now.

The storm rolls on, the prairie land drenched and drowned by the sheer mass of water, the downpour. The ground to exhausted from the rain’s torrential backlash, yet too saturated to drain. The water builds.

The end I no more wanted, than my own. Perhaps, there is no greater empathy than for oneself. I feel selfish in this. There is no dignity in hurting another.

The wind throws the rain in a rage like a rage doll. Uncontrolled.

I’m no longer in the in-between. No longer in the fight.

The storm rumbles on, demanding our full attention and respect. How much longer until we dance in the eye of the storm?

He said, “I haven’t changed”. I am still the person you loved so strongly. I couldn’t possibly have destroyed that irreparably. I responded simply, “I can no longer pretend”.

The howling…

He came back to fall in love, to hold hands, and walk the streets of the old-country. I came back to leave him where he has found.

begins to calm. There is a glimmer of a returning blue sky. The clouds have softened. The rain is now a gentle cleanser. Washing away the residue. There is a rainbow in the far distance. A glimmer of what’s to come. Hope.

As with a storm outside, we all have our storms daily. Maybe they are little and easily managed. But sometimes they rage internally the thunder of negative thoughts clapping inside our brains radiating like sparks of lightening and there feels like no end in sight. Our minds saturated in the thoughts, our body’s sympathetic nervous system pumping out cortisol to prepare it for fight or flight.

This is normal. You will be okay. The blue skies will return. Sometimes the problem is small and a shower can shake the thought. Sometimes, you have to wait, maybe there is an intermittent break like the eye of the storm. Catch your breath. Other times, there will be a flash flood and destruction in the wake, but the blue sky doesn’t JUST always return, it was actually there all along.