Found an inkling

I had a moment this morning. I felt the bratty teenager who wouldn't give in to the drama of 'poor me' and the stubbornness of not letting go of the 'but i don't want this' as she stamps her feet. I felt her let go of a tiny bit of her power today.

She is such a broken young lady. Angry. Terrified. No tools in her toolbox to work with. Too young to have gathered any tools actually. This was a brand new experience that she's never dealt with.

I saw her give in to a bit of letting go today. I felt that it's possible that I can get through this. There was an inkling of hope of accepting. A moment that I could change along with this and continue to love my dear hearted spouse.

I'm such a mess. I won't talk to anyone. I won't leave the house. I look like a bloody, massacred war victim. I don't think I've looked this bad in years. It doesn't help that I'm flat on my back from slipping on the job. I've been flat on my back for 9 days now. Pain definitely does not help matters. Brings out the worst in people, really. Not to mention, of course, that we're living in a disheveled home that is being torn apart because of the flood.

I once heard that your home can definitely reflect what's going on in your life. Well ... isn't this one the truth. Tears. Flowing tears of agony filled the floors, walls, ceilings, all my pretty things, all our niceties that make us comfortable, everything in our home has been removed because of the flow.

To start from scratch. Our relationship is starting from scratch.

They are removing floors like the skin on my loves face which will turn into the face of the 'man' my love has always wanted to be. They are ripping out the asbestos filled ceiling like the uterus that will be removed from my love that could possibly have given her the cancer that she's always feared will happen. They are tearing out the walls like the breasts my love will be removing to look like the person she's always wanted to be.

And when they're done? When they're done it will be a brand new home. It will look different. It will look like the old home with a new face and insides. This flood will be dried from the walls like my tears that will eventually be stopped from their flow. Dried so they don't turn into mold and become a hazard to our future health.

We will not be living in a small contained attic like my mind that is being small and cramped from my refusal to let go of this pain. We will be living in a new home of healthy air, open space and eventually, we'll move. We'll move on to the new chapter. This new home will confirm our lives have grown and changed and healed.

Eventually. The stubborn bratty teenager is giving in. There will be more tears. There are right now. Every word I'm writing I know as a truth. I'm not there yet. They haven't quite finished the ceiling. It's taped in with thick plastic so nobody can go in there. It's sealed. It's dangerous to go in the the contaminated area lest we die in the future from inhaling the dust. I can feel the first stage of my grief leaving with the contaminants of the house.

But for today, I cry. I let the tears flow. There are still massive blowers in the house to be sure to continue the drying of my tears. And unfortunately, my love has to see me breaking down right in front of her as her journey brings her closer to joy.

We are both battling in this change. We are holding hands while we both travel down different paths. There is a barrier between us ... a small fence that stops us from being arm and arm. We can only hold hands. But I'm grateful for that. Because I know I get to touch her, and through her hand I can feel her beautiful patient heart hold me until I heal. I can feel her love never letting go. I can feel my love. It's only a hand right now, but we will come together when we've both met at the end of the path where the fence ends.

I can see so far down the path ... just can't see the end of the fence.

Yet.