Betrayal

I woke up this morning thinking about betrayal and all its meanings. We planted seeds that we expected to produce peppers and tomatillos, and what we got was nightshade. Not just any weed, but a noxious one. So we've pulled up all the would-be peppers and the soil now sits fallow.

The seeds appear to be fine; they're from a reputable supplier. But the soil we planted in was soil we'd dug up from another part of the yard - perhaps not the best for planting seeds and clearly full of stuff we didn't know about, didn't want.

What a surprise it was when the realization hit. The disappointment. Some sadness, because we were so looking forward to what we would produce. It's interesting when you expect, hope for, anticipate, one thing and something completely different happens.

Kind of like my life right now. The seeds we planted 13 years ago both flourished and faltered at different times. We started out open, raw, honest, and grew close through sharing our deepest selves. Over the years, we've both developed and lost different tools, some effective, some not, and didn't always know the right ones to use. Perhaps sometimes it was easier to not use any at all and just wait and see.

What I wish we'd have done sooner was to seek help so what we created could flourish with tending and care. So much was good.

And now, there's anger, frustration, fear... it feels like, and maybe it's not true, but it feels like, those 13 years meant little, given the ease at which they feel like they're being discounted. Instead of working to recondition and amend and build up that soil, we're now starting over.

I'm trying to begin again, get down to the roots, tend my own soil and clear away the debris. An important thing to do at any time, but I'd have preferred to do it differently, in a different context, more closely in relationship to the one I've shared my last 13 years with. That's what I'd like to do, but I'm not really sure how it works without time together, so we can get back to that raw place of emotion and the willingness to be fully honest. We at least acknowledge that we do, indeed, love each other.

I did think we had better tools than this, that it wouldn't come to this, that we'd know to seek support because WE were that important; that with help, with some new, better tools, we could grow stronger and more solid. We just clearly didn't recognize it.

I don't like this place. A lot of resolution needs to happen, but the pain sometimes feels practically unbearable. Yet there are still garden chores to tend to, responsibilities to share, a household to dismantle and cats who need a lot of attention and love. All of this must be done with some kind of harmony. There is a part of me that still hopes for a different result.