Out of the Pit...For Now

I got pulled out of the pit. Ironically, by Simon, the man who pushed me in. It took long hours of sobbing and expressing feelings and worries and triggers and lots and lots of cookie dough. 

That's every day for me: into the pit, out of the pit, consume cookie dough, throw away a mound of Kleenex, hug it out, repeat. 

Good news: Simon is changing drastically. He's starting to become the man I always hoped he'd be. But of course, that could change. It's a hard thing to prepare for--one half of you clinging to hope, the other half bracing for a relapse. It stirs up some crazy conflicting emotions and when I get that panic attack of "my life is out of my control", I remember this: "I am responsible for my own happiness." 

It's liberating. It calms me. Everything will be alright. 

But back to Simon. Really, he's been great. He listens to me when I wail and mourn and scream "why!?" He responds with humility and kindness and honesty. Every day he tells me how sorry he is, how much he loves me, how he's changing, how he's sober. It's a great start. And truly, we've never communicated so much as we do now. 

Last night, we stayed up until 1:30 talking. And though each talk is painful and we pretty much cry through every one, I feel happier with each talk we have. With each bearing of his soul, I feel us grow closer. 

Trust will be a long time coming. Forgiveness comes and goes for me. 

Love for Simon is strong at times and non-existent at others. 

The one constant is my faith in the Atonement. That Jesus Christ wants to heal me if I let Him. Like the children of Israel and that brass serpent on the pole, all I must do is look to Him and be healed. Not just once and call it good but look to Him, come to Him, follow Him, believe Him, be like Him each and every day. Then will I truly LIVE. He will heal me if I desire it. 

And oh do we desire it.