I've been praying lately, a lot. Most of the time, my prayers are kind of trench prayers..."Help me. Help me. Help me," but sometimes, I get a little more sophisticated:
"Help me. I am afraid. I am trapped, and I need guidance. Please help me to know what I am supposed to do. Please show me what you want for me."
I realized this weekend in my step group while working on the Sixth Step that I might be standing firmly in the way of the plans of who or whatever is on the other side of those prayers. I ask for something to show me what I should be doing, and I get needles. I get a goddamned needle, that ugly orange goddamned needle, that symbol that started my new life when I first found it this time last year. I see that I'm standing in the same room, looking at the same thing, in the same situation.
I hate it. It hurts me and it fills me with rage, and I don't do a damn thing about it. I'm facing an edge of my "entire readiness": I am entirely ready to grow, entirely ready to move out of this impossible situation, but I am absolutely not ready to remove my husband from my life.
I've been reading a lot about God and gods and all the different manifestations of holiness around the world, and I've been finding the Hindu gods to be really illuminating. It's a construction of spirituality that's real distant from anything that I could ever be comfortable with making my own, but learning about the different functions that the various gods perform has given me some insight into the work that my own higher power can do for me. This week, I'm in love with Ganesha, the remover of obstacles, but also the planter of obstacles against which we are meant to test our mettle, to overcome and grow. I'm not sure if I should be invoking the power of removal or respecting the obstacle I've been given and testing my will to love in spite of all.
And also, I just don't want to be without him, my darling, needle-bearing obstacle. I'm not done with the sound of his heartbeat when I put my head on his chest, with his hand in mine, with his arm around me while I'm sleeping.
It's always so confusing, understanding what is right.