One Step at a Time

It has been awhile since my last post, and while I don't want to force everyone to read about the darkest moments in my life, I am finding that writing about it is helpful, and helps me to process what I am going through. And perhaps in my writing about it, someone else out there can find solace and comfort in knowing that their own struggles are echoed by others in this world. I did not intend to write so in-depth last time about what I went through, nor did I really want to bring it up again, the mindset that I find myself trapped in still to this day. I still plan on writing the post about exposure as payment in the arts, but for now, it is still far away in my mind.

I am home, my actual home in Paris, which in and of itself is a comfort and a relief. My family, or at least my mother's side of the family, lives in the area and nightly there have been great gatherings with lots of food, music, stories, wine, it all goes late into the night. We eat, we laugh, we talk, and in so many cases I just can sit and be. When you're trying to find a new normal in your life, that is important. I worry for those who are trying to heal out there who do not have this support. I worry for others, but for their privacy, I will not elaborate.

I do have a friend here who has been staying with, helping me to work out the worst of this. And it isn't losing my husband that is hardest, it's the realization that I have lost my faith, and with it hope, trust, and love. I loved my husband, and while I admit there were problems, every relationship has problems that take time and effort to resolve. We could have resolved these, but he chose not to. We walked away, even if at first it hurt and I wanted nothing more than for him to do the right thing in my mind (which was not to sign those papers). Needless to say, I got over him quick, aside from a few things that are still hard to swallow, like sushi.

What hurts now is the loss of faith. I found a false sense of peace while in captivity that was a true peace. And mixed in with that peace was a lie of a promise of heaven, which now I know would not happen. By working to achieve that heaven as it was promised to me, I would be a sinner. Even just by believing in this lie I have sinned. When I do die, which has to be a long many decades from now, I fear I will just fade. That is my new fear in all of this, fading out of existence (and fire, but that is another discussion in and of itself). But, I realize that I will never have that peace, never have that heaven, never be reunited again with my family who has gone before me. That is my faith, and coming out of all of this, that is the darkness that seems to have consumed me. Yes, I was angry that I lost my marriage, and yes I was angry that in my mind I wanted to hurt people, something I never wanted before that time. But that loss of hope that one day I will find peace, that is the hardest part. Even harder than losing that sense of love I had for my friends and my now ex-husband. Faith led to hope, hope led to love, love led to trust, trust led back to faith. And now that circle is broken. How does one function without those things in their lives? That is the question I need to answer, and soon. The actions of living are not merely enough to sustain me without those pillars of who I am. My foundation is gone.

I sit here on my porch, my friend who is visiting has taken some time to explore the city by himself, and I wanted to stay, dwell for a brief time on what was really on my mind. The pain of losing Hannya was enough to propel me away from him and his friends, and the need for space so I can figure out the next part of my life was needed as well. I have that now, but how does one keep going when that cycle of faith and love is gone? My only hope is that I can try to enjoy what is here long enough so that at the end of my life, when I do die, I can at least think that I enjoyed what I had. I am grateful for what I do have, I am grateful even for the pain I have had as that has shaped me, and now I must be grateful for only what this life alone will give me to live by.

It is hard accepting that once I die, the only sense of peace I will have will be non-existence, just as it is hard knowing that I will not sense that peace that I had ever again during that time that I was held captive. It is that peace I longed for all those years I did drugs and drank and lived a rockstar lifestyle, just as it was that same peace I longed for growing up. Had I known while captive it would be the only time in my life, or after, that I would experience it, I would not have reveled in it so much. As much as I love the life I have led, it is also just as tempting to let it go and just live something much simpler here, be a waiter again, read when it's slow at work, jam with musicians that come and go. But, I am not ready to be a washed up rockstar either. Until then, I will just need to put one foot in front of the other, even if life just takes one step at a time.