I was going to write a new post this past Sunday, but Hurricane Irene intervened and we had no power for 28 hours, so there went my plans!  But, at least I was able to finish painting my Little-Apartment-on-the-Pond.  I’m very glad to have that project behind me, and my redecorating to rid the place of ex-husband cooties is almost complete.  I just have to replace the entry and stairway rugs, stained as they are with greasy foot prints because he could never manage to remove his boots when he came home from work.

Irene was only a tropical storm by the time she reached us, and we were lucky enough to be on the dry side of the tempest but it was very windy.  We had sustained winds of about 45 to 55 miles an hour with frequent gusts between 70 and 80 miles an hour, and about a quarter inch of rain.  My dog had to make his usual trips outdoors, but we had to forgo our daily hike in the woods.  As it was, I kept an eye to the sky as we walked around the neighborhood, what with tree branches and utility wires looming over-head.  Thankfully, the worst thing we encountered during the walks was the wind-born debris that pelted us, causing us to squint and try to shield our eyes.  The last outing was at about 11pm, and by then, our power had been out for 13 hours, so the puny light of my flash light and the brilliant pin-pricks of stars that showed from between the clouds were the only relief from the darkness.  The storm still raged unabated, but stars shined on; I was surprised to see them, and, somehow encouraged; it was sure to mean that the storm would be over, soon.

I’m also hoping that my personal storm will be over soon.  There have been no more harassing emails since I instructed my ex not to email anymore unless he needed a signature or to get something out of the garage.  You’d think it would be easy to forget him, but for some unpleasant reason, he’s now haunting me in my dreams, or should I say nightmares.  I’ve had consistent nightmares  about him since we split up, but they’ve become more pronounced lately.   Last night’s dream was particularly odd (odd enough for me to remember it) in that not only was the ex stalking me, but a man in a suit came to my door; much like the well-known guy who arrives with balloons and a giant check to give to a sweep-stakes winner, except that this guy had a framed certificate.  He announced that someone had won the prize for being “The Most Wounded“.  (????)   And I told him he was at the wrong house, never thinking he could mean me.  Then he said my name and showed me the certificate, with my name printed on it and tried to hand it to me;  “You take the prize!  You are “The Most Wounded!”  I didn’t want to accept it from him and told him that there’d been some mistake.  At that point, the dream was so disturbing that I woke up, as though I was trying to escape from it.  But how bizarre!  I wondered (and still wonder) what does it mean?  Is my brain trying to tell me that I’m in denial about how much the defection of my husband and my divorce has hurt me?  I’ve made no bones about the fact that even after all these months, I am still shocked and devastated, but I am coming through it okay and I am basically whole.  Somewhat traumatized, but fine.   Definitely not “The Most Wounded“; I have much in my life to be grateful for and I never lose sight of that fact.

Storms may come and go, but like the stars, I intend to keep shining on.

Photo of moon through tree leaves.

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