Eyes Wide Shut:- refusing to see something in plain view, because of preconceived notions of what this something should look like. This frequently happens to naïve people. I have opened my eyes over these past three years. Looking dispassionately into the reality of my life. Who I am. Looking long and hard at the man I have been married to for some quarter century. Coming face to face with the realization that blind trust can be betrayed. Becoming encompassed with the sorrow of Grief. Grieving for what choices I didn’t make. Grieving over what was lost. Grieving over the blind path I have led. Grieving over being blindsided. Moving onto forgiveness. Forgiving my younger self. Moving onto letting go. Letting go of trying too hard and for too long. Disengaging. Dis-attaching. With less naivety some innocence is gone. At the ripe age of fifty something I guess I’m a late bloomer. Still, I choose to hold onto my truth which incorporates trust. The depth of despair I went down into when I first opened my eyes took me through a dark cave where I wrestled with how to move forward while still staying in this life that was so damaged from smoke and mirrors. How could I stay true to myself and all my core values and still stay in this life with trust now broken? I felt like I was losing myself. If I stay then it must be that I am accepting deception. If I stay just because I am too lazy or not brave enough to get out means I am accepting that I am not so honest/honorable myself. That has been the hardest. Continually I have been tackling and coming to terms with the ugly side of my own nature. Sometimes it’s just too late to sever the ties. But there has to be more to staying than that……… Through the gray haze there steadfastly has remained two unconditional and absolute reasons to stay. When all hope was almost gone I started to gain new strength that was coming from the newfound detachment. A parasite cauterized out of my core. I am learning to be that separate entity now, and let him be him. Warts and all for each of us.
I thought, you see, that on some still night When stars were shrill over his farm, And he and I kept ourselves warm By an old fire, whose bars were bright With real heat, the truth might ripen Between us naturally as the fruit Of his wild hedges, or as the roots, Swedes and mangolds, he grew then.
No luck; the thoughts hopefully sown On such evenings never could break The mind’s crust. Keeping my own Company now, I have forsaken All but this poor basement of bone, Where the one dry flame is awake.