I’ll Measure My Pain and Figure the Weight

Today’s blog: A look into treating yourself well and moving on from the past.

“I ain’t prepared to give in just yet

the older I get the harder dreams are to follow

I’ll measure my pain and figure the weight

but I think that’s it’s best if put off till tomorrow.” -Meredith Wilder (Brush Strokes)

I listened to the Brush Strokes album today as I worked out in the garden and I listened to the song The Hand My Heart Follows (#4) for the millionth time.

This whole album never ceases to amaze me. I can relate to almost every song. I blog about these lyrics often. (#5, Clutter, is a whole lot of why I moved away from NM)

I was thinking of this song especially, lately, because of a conversation I had with my Great Aunt Alice.

I spent a good portion of my Sunday with her and had so much fun talking about family, learning more about “where I come from” and hearing some of her stories. (Her husband proposed the first day they met!) In between the stories about what everyone’s up to these days and how is work, etc, we had a good conversation about what comes after finding yourself alone. I found myself alone because of a relationship ending through actions; she found herself alone five years ago when her husband passed away. We could relate to each other in the context of having a few “firsts” that a person experiences in those first few days waking up beside no one. Some people tell me that comparing divorce to death is extreme… but I think it’s somewhat valid. That person really isn’t in your life anymore. You don’t talk to them… you don’t see them. Sometimes their existence is ghost-like. (Also, age is absolutely irrelevant.)

What I’m thinking is the biggest difference, is that my longing faded. I’m sure that when you lose your life partner through death, that longing stays with you in ways that aren’t understood. (And you don’t get rare and spontaneous texts about very random things from those ghosts… but when you get them from real people, it actually helps make them less spooky.)

Alice and I weighed and measured our mutual pain together and found that in the end, we could relate because we both realized that we were dependent on someone else for many aspects of our lives. We even high-fived in the car, when we started listing out loud the things we now do for ourselves that make us feel strong and confident. This doesn’t diminish the beauty of what she once had. But it does help with continuing the beauty of her life, now solo.

The weight that’s left, after time has passed, isn’t nearly as heavy as the pain once was.

As Alice showed me the flowers she has in her apartment and outside, it made me smile. In fact, just the day before I’d told the story to a friend…the story about how I finally went out and bought flowers for myself and how good that felt.

Today’s blog doesn’t have one main point, and my brain can’t seem to focus on one thing anyway. But what I think I’m getting at is that we all will find ourselves alone at some point. Even if it’s just for an evening.

Whether this alone time is fun or painful or short or everlasting, it’s a time that a person can learn to make their own, at the very least.

And even if it’s just a weed, whether you’re happily married, divorced, widowed, or simply single…remember that something seemingly mundane can still look very pretty in your home.

Beauty is in the eye of the beholder.

Our contentment lies in what we’ve let go.

Love,

Lou (who’s scattered mind saved this Shepherd’s Purse weed today because the small leaves look like hearts)