A Divorced Mom’s Prayer: May There Be Angels Beneath The Support Beams of My Life
The external components of my life keep shifting…giving way…breaking.
In my mind’s eye I see the support beams of a house built over water, cracking…adjusting…dangling. Yet I know, I know that that house is ME: my bones, my soul, my reality.
My muscles tense with anger. I’m gripping, hanging on, protesting. I am strong, so very strong, and damnit, fuck him, fuck the world, I will make this turn around happen.
But how long have I been here? I can’t stay here forever…I get tired, I’m flesh and blood, I don’t want to be Superwoman, I’ve nothing to prove…
…I’d trade any superpowers for a good, solid compass. There is a compass somewhere around here, is there not?
I scramble to find it – my compass, my True North. I scramble, jump, race, search. Where the fuck is it? I’m doing everything I possibly can! Where the fuck is it?
Despair fills my heart. Then fear. Then overwhelm. Lying in bed, staring at the ceiling. The screaming in my head, the racing of my heart. What to do? What to do? Damnit, I’m a woman of action. What should I DO?
I can’t stay here forever. I’m tired. I’m flesh and blood. I can’t scramble anymore. I’ve done everything I can. I lie back in exhaustion. Used up. Fried.
I can’t force it. I can’t ‘make’ anything happen. All I can do is turn this off. Lie back… close my eyes…
May there be angels beneath the support beams of my house.