Saturday, December 22
I left a recovery meeting this morning and ran into Kat in the parking lot. We chatted under a brilliant blue sky and golden sun in the freezing cold. I admitted I was having homicidal thoughts about JB.
“Only tell a select few people,” Kat laughed. “You’ll freak people out.”
She’d know first hand.
“What you’re feeling is normal,” Kat continued. “It’s a process. It’s very physical. But you’re going to be great. Your life is going to be wonderful.”
“I know my life is going to be wonderful,” I said. “I absolutely feel it. I’m excited and have beautiful stretches of gratitude. I’m happy I’m getting out, getting a fresh start. Then I find myself daydreaming about doing horrible things to JB, like stomping on his neck and watching him die. I feel anxious all the time. Like every cell in my body is vibrating.”
Kat looked up at the sky. “What’s that? Is that a . . .”
“A bald eagle!” I shouted as it flew directly over my head.
“I’ve never seen one here, ever.”
“I’ve only seen them in Wisconsin.”
“It’s a sign. It’s a great sign for you.”
“I feel it,” I said, my eyes filling with tears. “I really feel it.”
Kat hugged me. “I’m going to look up eagle in my spirit guide book and tell you what it means.”
I’d scoffed at Kat and her Native American spirit animals book. Now I couldn’t wait to find out what it said. I didn’t wait long before I got an email from Kat saying eagles are signs to get laser focused on bringing about change. They symbolize opportunity, protection, freedom, action, focus, determination, vision, and power.
I knew it was true.
Later, George and I met for dinner at a Thai restaurant. George wanted Thai and I considered suggesting something else since anything to do with Thailand makes me squirm now. But then I thought maybe eating Thai would help me move forward. I walked into the restaurant and George and I gave each other pecks on the cheek. George and I’ve known each other from recovery nearly ten years. He has a quick mind, a kind heart, and kind eyes. He’s a therapist. But there’s a darkness to him.
“I see myself doing violent things to JB,” I told George. “I see myself killing him. I get off on the rage. I’m putting bad energy out into the universe and I’m scared it’s going to boomerang on me. Cause and effect. This is my opportunity to face why my marriage exploded, look at my part, transform into a better version of myself. And I’m blowing it. I have all this rage. I keep pushing it away but it rushes back.”
“You have to let yourself go there,” George said. “Do not beat yourself up for it. What you’re feeling is normal. Let yourself feel. JB abused you. He violated you. You are human. You need to let yourself feel that.”
George stared into my eyes with sad eyes. He hurt for me. I took his hand. I squeezed it.
“Thank-you,” I whispered, trying not to cry.
“I’m going to hear a piano player with a woman I’ve been dating,” George said.
On our way out of the restaurant, George placed his hands on either side of my face and kissed me tenderly. He kissed me again. It was warm and loving. It felt wonderful. George drove off to his date and I drove home. As I drove, I remembered two moments when JB and I had begun dating. JB and I were laying on the living room floor at a friend’s house smoking a joint, and JB and I were sunbathing on North Avenue beach. JB had stroked my arm and looked into my eyes. Both times I felt queasy. I pushed away my feelings and thought, “What’s wrong with me?”
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