by Lori Dwyer on August 27, 2011 · 21 comments

There’s a feeling that a wave has broken over me.

You may know the feeling. It’s the height of summer, and your skin is clammy and hot and wet with salty sweat. The air you breathe is warm.

And then you dive into the bottom of a wave, and it cracks over the crown of your head, so cold it hurts. It’s a whole body immersion in ice, cold but welcome as it changes the core temperature of your body, washes the heat from your eyes.

And when you emerge… the beach, it’s the same. But the whole world looks different.


A change in perspective.

I’m not sure exactly when it happened- it’s been growing, I think, for a while now. Maybe it was a weekend away with one of my best mates, showing me the essence of myself again.

Maybe it’s the change in weather.

Maybe it’s the knowledge that I made decision to be strong. Lonely, but strong, and true to myself.

Maybe it’s because I’ve realised the truth in a saying of my nan’s- “You need people, love, people don’t need you.”

Maybe it’s just time passing.

But a funny thing has happened.

The shock of Tony hanging (and I can write that word without the creeps) has worn off. It’s as if the shock of suicide has worn off, and it’s as if he through no fault of his own.

I’m not angry at him anymore.

And I can feel him around.

Maybe he’s not angry at me anymore either. Maybe he’s at peace. It feels like he is.

The loneliness that I’ve craved the last few months, the solitude of Paradise… it’s starting to feel sad and stifling.

There are big decisions to be made, and something tells me I will have little trouble making them, that things will fall into place just fine.

It feels scary, having to move on again. But I know it’s the right direction to move.

It’s terrifying, having to pack again, confront memories that have been packed away for six months now.

But it all has to be done.

In the doco The Business of Being Born, there is a midwife who says something akin to…

“Every woman who has a natural childbirth reaches the point where they are scared. The know they have to keep pushing to get this over with, but pushing hurts too much.”

I’ve said all along, this feels like extended childbirth, riding the waves of pain, holding out for the next one. And right now, it feels like that, too.

I know I have to push through this last bit of pain, to find some relief.

But pushing hurts so much, it would be easier just to stop, and wallow in the agony.

You can’t wallow forever. Eventually, you have to face that crowning pain and get it over with.

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{ 21 comments… read them below or add one }

MrsKellB September 1, 2011 at 11:57 am

Just reading this now but I must say, what a lovely post to read on the first day of spring.


Anonymous August 29, 2011 at 7:17 pm

Beautifully written as always. You are the strongest person I know of, I am in awe of your strength and honesty as you write about your life. Wishing you peace and relief as you make this next push.
Sending hugs and love


Anonymous August 29, 2011 at 2:10 am

You are amazing, keep your head up and keep moving. You are doing SO GREAT! For you and your kids. And this "You can't wallow forever. Eventually, you have to face that crowning pain and get it over with." Well, that was just what I needed right now. And I will be doing JUST that. Finally! Thanks for all that you write. Lisa


Lirio Jaguar August 28, 2011 at 3:29 pm

I get tingly with each of your posts, seeing you emerge, slowly more triumphant. You not only resurface to take a new breath of air, you come back more purposefully and finding your shoreline. Sometimes, the beach you find yourself washed up on may not be the one where you left your towel, and the foreshore invites you in, anyway. You are not the woman who walked into the sea with the intention to drown, in some twist of the feminist narrative. You've walked in and courted transformation. Or transcendence. Or something. Whatever it is, mate, I LOVE it.


Annabellz August 28, 2011 at 11:38 am

hope springs eternal…


Melissa August 28, 2011 at 7:13 am

beautifully written. just beautiful. my heart smiles when I hear a hint, just a hint of hope in your "voice" here. I hope this next step brings you more peace, contentment, and good moments.


The Hand of a Jeanie August 28, 2011 at 4:53 pm

Sounds like that flower is well watered and is opening up to full bloom.
Good for you Lori. xx


Shellye August 28, 2011 at 4:46 am

What an amazing, descriptive post about moving forward! I'm chuffed to bits to hear that the shock has worn off and that you're making some progress. I continually pray for you and if there's anything I can do, let me know.


Kelloggsville August 28, 2011 at 2:50 am

you are so clever the way you express emotion and feelings in words that makes it seem so clear and able to relate to. Clever writer girly, it's a shame the feelings are real otherwise it would be truly awesome. But on the upside at least these are upward emotions xx


Jennifer August 28, 2011 at 2:20 am

Beautiful post, Lori. I am happy for you too, to be feeling at peace. Such a stark contrast from your "not ok" post the other day. I can't imaging how exhausting it must be to just FEEL, so much, all the time. Here's hoping for many more good days ahead! Reading along and rooting for you from the other side of the world…


Miss Pink August 27, 2011 at 10:09 pm

This is exciting!
I am hoping that your second life is just as wonderful as your first.


River August 27, 2011 at 7:21 pm

I'm so glad to read this, Lori. I knew this moment was coming and now I know that you truly are going to be okay. (((Hugs)))


Amy xxoo August 27, 2011 at 6:41 pm

I love that you've used the whole " crowning " analogy because we all know what happens after the crowning… a birth. Or, Lori, in your case – a rebirth….


Kimmie August 27, 2011 at 5:02 pm

Wow…just wow!


Caity August 27, 2011 at 3:33 pm

Dear Lori,

I am so glad to read this post. I've only recently found your blog and read your story.

Sending you all good wishes for the changes that are coming,


Crystal August 28, 2011 at 12:29 am

Oh, Lori, I am so happy for you, I really am. HUG! I think you've reached a turning point and I really hope things go swiftly uphill from here for you. I've been cheering for you here on the sidelines all along and it just does my heart good to hear that you're getting better. :-)


Nicole@MyIdeaLife August 27, 2011 at 1:40 pm

I love that u recognize a lifechanging moment before it's about to happen and then can describe it so expressively to us. I hope the world looks as bright and fresh as it does through a wave and it doesn't hurt too much. Nicole x


Tony August 27, 2011 at 1:23 pm

Hey Lori,
Its really nice to hear you talking like this, even if it is a calm moment between a painful push, the fact is you are getting to enjoy a calm moment and seeing a glimpse of a peaceful world and feeling its pleasure again.


Eccles August 27, 2011 at 4:01 pm

"…you dive into the bottom of a wave, and it cracks over the crown of your head, so cold it hurts. It's a whole body immersion in ice, cold but welcome as it changes the core temperature of your body, washes the heat from your eyes." Isn't it the most wonderful sensation? Takes your breath away. I can hear peace in your voice. I'll be here when you get "home" (X)


Lynda Halliger-Otvos August 27, 2011 at 3:05 pm

Martyn Joseph a Welsh singer songwriter has a fabulous line where he sings, “no further forward, just further along” and it so describes times like this in our lives.


Good Golly Miss Holly! August 27, 2011 at 1:27 pm

I am so proud of you, and we will support you with whatever decision you make xx


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