Di’s Xmas in July 2016: Day 11

XmasinJulyTestintro by Di…

What an eloquent, soul-moving account Heidi gives us, of the Devastation of Divorce, the death, and then. . . then the incoming peaceful wave that follows,  rising again to “seek the sweetness of life, in its calm and crazy moments.”

It’s an honor to present your message, Heidi, “no holds barred.” Like any death, you can’t “pretty up” divorce.  You descend into hell with it.  You feel the ripping and tearing inside and out. Then Life picks itself up and takes the first tentative step into your new country of clean, clarity, so you can take a breath. Your dream is still alive, washed of its endless gasping, free now.

Thank you for taking us down with you, and then bringing us gloriously back up to see “the sunlight glowing on the hillside at dusk.”  It may be the dusk of your marriage and the hopes you attached to it.  But, look!  A new day has begun.   And you have come a long, long way!  All is not lost. Including the very heart of your dream.

We are open hearts for you, Heidi, ready to receive your words with attentiveness to your deep pain, and to be rocks and stumps and tree limbs for you to grab hold of as you steady yourself, ready to take the next step and the next. With gratitude, we have come to see and hear you, to give you an extended family and a home in our hearts.

Heidi’s Sandcastle – washed away.

“Experiencing my marriage dissolving this past year has been like desperately trying to keep my sand castle from washing away into the ocean.  When it was clearly gone, and I was left standing there gripping the fistfuls of sand as it crumbled through my fingers, the only thing left to do was scream and lean into the pain of it all.

The crap thing about divorce is that it isn’t a single moment of death.  As my best friend texted me in the midst of the worst of it, ‘It’s death by a thousand stupid cuts and then we are supposed to carry on and support our families on top of it while bleeding endlessly from our heart.’

And then some moments of reprieve.  And…kindness?  And then you start to wonder…reconciliation?  And you put just a bit of the sand on the castle.  And wait.  And hope.

And then the wave heartlessly crashes in and annihilates you again.

Over.  And over.  Again.

Until you are so beaten you don’t even want to live in a fucking sand castle anymore.  And you don’t even like the beach.

And eventually you just let the waves pull you in.  And you sort of drown, but don’t care.  And then remember the children and MUST care.

And you keep your head above water somehow.  Occasional life preservers are tossed your way.  Thank God.

And the rest of the world carries on with ridiculously normal tasks, like laughing, buying groceries, kissing their loved ones’ cheeks.  It’s enough to induce vomiting.

And meanwhile you live in a fog of sorts.  A muted, muffled fog.  Like the world is existing on some floor upstairs and you are stuck in the basement with the mold.

The lessons, oh, the lessons are countless and precious.

Resilience.  Surrender.  Courage.  And ultimately a softness with oneself.

These are things I will proudly carry to my grave.  Hopefully a good many years in the future.  Because I am choosing to love and honor my own tender heart now.  And still seek the sweetness of life, in it’s calm and crazy moments.  My daughters and their unconditional love for me.  And for their father.  Their silly farts that induce fits of giggling. The way the sunlight glows on the hillside at dusk.  It’s enough to rip your heart into a million pieces for the beauty and pain of it all.  This life is precious.  The pain is another way of saying ‘Thank you!!!’ to Spirit for all that was gifted, and now taken away.

Thank you.”


POOP SANDWICH 13735757_1165020896875168_6601378637926374525_owrapping up by Di …

Martín Prechtel’s recent book,  “The Smell of Rain on Dust,”  describes Heidi in the introduction:

“..there are noble and profound human beings
whose radiance and value are unknown
even to their closest neighbors.

It takes courage to be what the world needs,
but the world never seems to change when you are alone.”

But your collective humanity is here, Heidi, a net to catch you and care. You must know how we appreciate your showing us your heart’s condition.  Both your pain and your courage stir us to tears and awe.  Thank you for your Life’s work of being what our world needs.  Your dream is ours, and it is
still alive!

Heidi interviewed Martin Prechtel and has given this link to one of his
deep and profound books, “The Smell of Rain on Dust: Grief and Praise.”


invitation to chime in…

Has anyone not been touched by the disaster of divorce?

What are your reactions, our beautiful, loving community, to what Heidi
has shared? What can you take-away?  What can you give?

Please let us know your thoughts in the comment area below.

(Your comments will be included in the Ebook Keepsake you will receive after the 12 days are done.) 😜 “wink”

links to previous pages
(in case you missed it):

DAY 1 – Magenta: Waiting in Darkness

DAY 2 – JFP: Living after Heart surgery and 5 strokes

DAY 3 – JANE: Visiting Family – Layers of Love and Grief

DAY 4 – JFS: Loss of Someone to Care For

DAY 5 – SANDY: Allowing my Beloved Partner’s Memory to Live on

DAY 6  – PETE:  Deep pain of losing my Beloved Daughter

DAY 7 – VIVIENNE: From the Dark to Light, Damage to Wholeness

DAY 8 – BARCLAY: Shift your pen…Shift your consciousness

DAY 9 – NANCY: My Personal Journey of Grief and Loss

DAY 10 – LISA: How to cope with the death of an Ex – even if you’re remarried.


















Di’s Xmas in July 2016: Day 11 — 3 Comments

  1. Thank you Heidi for the window into sand castle life in a most remarkable message. The lessons learned undoubtedly contributed to the resolve to honor and respect yourself. You have my respect and admiration and a place in my heart. I now know how to handle a poop sandwich, thank you.

  2. The stunning image of that sandcastle, being washed away bit by bit (in a thousand cuts), with occasional fruitless reprieves is now forever etched in my heart, as a picture of the grief of separation or divorce. And the sense of others’ everyday life going on somewhere upstairs while you stay in the mouldy basement. Thank you for these images in your stunning writing Heid.

    Yet the movement toward softness, sweetness, honor & love for ones own tender heart – I feel this too. It doesn’t seem much, not dramatic or strong. More like the tender arising of fresh shoots from the ground, hardly visible unless you know where to look. I just have to trust that this turning within after such identity destruction is all for good, for lifting, transformation, some new purpose to arise like the Phoenix from the ashes. Love the gifts you have found Heidi – Bravo! Mine are Courage & Truth, and seeing old patterns so they can be left behind.

    Feeling strong rapport with you and all here. Blessings on all you weary ones. X

  3. I grieve for all of this time and process Heidi, to get to the gifts that accompany the painful steps to ‘now’. I am astounded by your writing style; while you expressed each grief and pain here. In addition, your emotional presence, and your ‘full front and center’journey through the anguish, the fog, and all of the details that come with divorce—are so reverently expressed in your words. It seems to me,yes, a reverence is contained within your domain of be-ing human. We 2 leggeds, can be so taken under by traversing the ‘walk’ of spirit and human as one. Thank you Heidi for your courage in each moment, to continue and to move forward; said with such eloquence and clarity!

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