This past Labor Day earmarks the death of my second husband 28 years ago. In years past I would find myself silently suffering the memories of that day safely under the covers, all day usually. Or, if my family wouldn't tolerate my withdrawal, I would spend my time doing what had to be done, but I wasn't really there, I was remembering, reliving that scene.
Always the question would be there, "Why?" Why did he hate me so? Did he really mean to do it? Did he really want to kill me?
I've chewed on my guilt and shame for years now, like Vivienne in the Divine Secrets of the Ya-Ya Sisterhood, "I chew on a problem until there is no more flavor, and then I stick it in my hair." Those who have seen me recently know that I got a really short haircut and it feels odd not to have a lock of hair to twirl while I ask myself the question.
I may have found an answer while reading the Healing through the dark emotions by Miriam Greenspan. She explains on page 61 that "The hypermasculine mode of dealing with helplessness and vulnerability is to kill someone as a release for their own intolerable pain." Although she is speaking about angry vengeance, which of course my husband could have been in this vengeful state of mind, as I did come home that night really really late, and he did accuse me of whoring around.
The bottom line is that I will never know why, all I can do is make meaning out of my pain, feel it, so that I can heal it.
Writing this blog, and processing through my art are my new emotional exercises. So, I think I'll get up from my mat, dry off the blood, sweat and tears and take a bath. Oh, and thank you for listening.
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