Last night I just about went crazy looking for a very important piece of paperwork. Who knew I needed a copy of my divorce decree to apply for a mortgage? I've only done each of these things once; I don't know what kind of paperwork you need to have on hand. The divorce was so basic and simple that it never occurred to me that I'd need documentation of a settlement — there wasn't one.
I was so, so, soooo frustrated in searching for this piece of paper (which, not coincidentally, arrived in the mail on my birthday in 2008) that at one point I was ready to scream! The file that I thought it was in, it wasn't. B and I searched high and low (he's a good sport) through stacks of bills and statements and various paperwork, but it was nowhere to be found. Somewhere, there are several boxes that I haven't opened since we moved 15 months ago, and I know that some of my favorite yoga clothes are in one. I'd bet that effing paper is in there, too.
At first, it seemed like the stress of homebuying was at the root of my frustration. Then, I thought it was the chaos and overwhelmed feeling I got from having so many papers in so many piles all over the apartment (oh, I have grand visions of organization at the new place, believe you me).
But really, the downright anguish I felt came from guilt and shame erupting, once again. Looking through the filing paperwork made me feel like the biggest asshole. It took me right back to May 2008 when I looked someone in the eye and told him for the last time, "It's not you, it's me," and meant it, and watched his whole world fall apart, again. I know with every piece of my being that it was the right decision. But knowing that doesn't make me feel like a good person. It just makes me feel callous and selfish...
At that time, yoga, day in and day out, was the only road to peace and solace I had. I don't know if I was simply drinking the Kool-Aid that Bikram teaches, that if you can stay calm and collected upside-down in a hot room, then you can stay calm and collected under any circumstances. Did the yoga help me become a cold, callous bitch? I don't think so, because in every other arena of my life (at the time) I was incredibly feeling... But where's the balance between strength and compassion? Nonharming nonviolence, anyone?
I don't know how to deal with feeling these, all over again. It feels like the several-month period when I'd go in the yoga room for class and once we hit the floor, I'd just cry, those huge, quaking, silent sobs. Eventually, the sobs passed.
How do I work through this guilt for good, when I thought I already had? Is it even possible to resolve it completely? When do I stop feeling like a shitty person whenever the D word comes up?
Ughhh. Somehow, writing this all out has calmed me. I've been avoiding the mat this week, afraid that the demons will creep out again. I don't want to scare anyone.