You couldn't hate enough to love

I've been living deep inside my head these last few days and it's not the best place to be this time of year. There are dark corners with insults, hurts and betrayals. There are bright spots with love and tenderness and laughter. There are deep wells full of bloodied tendrils of my heart and soul that can never be repaired or re-pieced. The weather, at least, has been cooperative. Out my back door I have a great view of the dark clouds that threaten us with rain, but never follow through. While the baby sleeps, I stand at the door and stare out, letting tea grow colder and colder in my hands. I cry, even while wearing my "Cowgirls Don't Cry" hoodie. The absurdity of that is not lost on me. I try to sit still on the bed, the couch, the rocker, anywhere but all I can do is tap my foot about 100 mph and stare into space. I put on music that soothes me. Mumford & Sons, Stone Sour, Corey Taylor, Aaron Lewis, EmmyLou Harris and yes, Meatloaf (go ahead and laugh, I ain't skerd to let my freak flag fly).

I wonder if this time of year will always suck. Isn't June supposed to be for brides? I was a June bride once. Now I'm a June divorcee. Someday will I wake up, maybe five or ten years from now, and realize that my wedding anniversary has come and gone and I missed it? That there was no trauma or weeping? That it had come and gone in a flash with no nightmares and no flashbacks? Will, someday, The Viking and I be able to be friends? I hope so.

But for right now, I stare out the window. I drink my cold tea. I cry in a sweatshirt that reminds me not to cry. And I put these words out into the world that maybe, just maybe, they might soothe someone else. Or maybe, just maybe, they might soothe myself.