Dissociate

God you’re constant even when I change.

I rant and complain but your love stays the same.

You let me cry and whine, lose my mind, and pitch a fit.

Even when my heart disintegrates in my chest so that it no longer fits.

Its in the air all around me and all over the floor.

Shattered in a million pieces, probably more.

My soul splits like an atom; the bomb released more than atomic.

Gripped by pain and fear in proportions astronomic.

My emotions shut down, I’m almost catatonic.

The oppression is palpable, powerful, demonic.

Its an out of body experience of which I’m not proud,

But pulling it in is like trying to grab a cloud of dust.

If I could just get all those particles to cooperate.

Come back together soul and regenerate.

Unfortunately all I learned to do with pain was dissociate.

Separate from my heart and go up into my head where its safe.

A place where I can talk about ideas and truth in a way that seems quite clear.

But not once during the conversation does my wife feel near me.

She’s now debating with a philosopher, arguing equations with a mathematician.

Her husbands true self masked within him.

No sense of contrition.

Calculating his status with his mind but she’s wishin' he would just be real.

Simply state what he feels instead of arguing with her that it’s not a big deal.

The wheels come off this armored car when asked to clearly express the realities of my heart.

Its hard. Seemingly impossible to overcome this fate.

Helplessness sets in and all I can do is wait.

But for what?

Something. Anything.

I feel nothing. I feel everything.

“What do you feel?” she says.

As she cautiously walks out on that ledge.

She can’t feel what I feel or see what I see but she ventures out anyway just to find me.

She’s not afraid, well maybe some.

But in her eyes are love and the strength of a lion.

She was born to battle and she’s picked up her sword.

She tells me about our enemy and reminds me of our Lord.

She’s strong when I’m weak.

“Your not alone” is what I hear even if she doesn’t speak.

She stands with me but doesn’t try to save.

Its what my heart needed to start to feel ok.

She’s calm and steady, the opposite of me.

A strong anchor to tether some of my irregularity.

Now she’s not my God, that’s not what I’m sayin’.

She’s a gift from Him to join me in prayin’, teach me about stayin’, and partner with me in slayin’ our enemies.

Two are better than one, that’s for certain.

But one’s all I’ve known and its left me hurtin’.

Trying to find a new way but I’m still learnin’

How to let her in when this fire’s burnin’.

I try to hide the flames.

Wall ‘em up quick with brick to cover the shame.

“I’m fine” is my ridiculous refrain until the mortar melts from the heat and out pours the pain.

What would it have been like to just talk about the hurt from the start?

"I feel alone. I feel hurt. I feel overwhelmed in my heart."

It comes out in the end only because she listens.

If I had brought it out at first probably could have avoided the division.

By my actions I bring about the very separation I fear.

I push her away instead of just inviting her near.

But by God’s grace there’s a new way becoming clear that’s made peace with my fears and receives each moment of real love as a balm to the rejection of years.