Today I worked with words, not in the way I usually do, but in an experimental series of word associations. It struck me that an issue that I thought was tapering off kept showing up in my word choices. It reminded me of the word association game that psychiatrists use on their patients, (at least from what I've seen in the movies) the one where the doctor asks the patient to say the first word that comes to their mind. As I worked through about six different exercises, I noticed the trend. I also noticed that my words were blameful. I was honest and called it like I saw it, but I felt myself get angry as this theme developed. It occurred to me that I am (still) equally angry with myself, just as much as I am angry with him. What do I do with it? I, metaphorically speaking, put the period at the end of that sentence, heck, I punctuated that whole chapter; but, why then is it coming up so fresh in my writing? Perhaps it's too soon to dismiss the whole thing, even though I certainly have tried.

When you close the door on a life you don't want, how long before you're ready to open up a new one? I know there is no concrete answer to this. It surely varies from person to person, from situation to situation, and each time is different, I suppose. I'd love to be able to see, really see, how others deal with endings and beginnings in their lives? Wouldn't it be enlightening to really peer inside of another and see if there's peace in their soul? And if not, how long does it take for their peace to return?

Poetry at least provides me peace and is my consistent resource for cathartic release. Elegy is my familiar friend in times of existential angst. The best way I can put an ending behind me is by putting pen to paper. It's done more for me than any therapist could. One day though, I would love to write something other than elegies, and I'm certain I will.

During a recent reading of Clarissa, by Samuel Richardson, the question of duty to oneself versus duty to family is raised, as well as whether a woman has to marry and become a man's possession. Women were commodities, back then. The other question raised was whether women possess virtue. Lovelace, the casanova in the book, believes no woman is virtuous; hmmm, that's the pot calling the kettle. Many other issues came up for women in the 18th Century; and it occurred to me that all of the issues in that early novel are still present today in the 21st Century. Nearly 300 years later and we human beings haven't managed to figure out how to be completely true to oneself while relating harmoniously to others, especially love and family relationships. Three Hundred Years. I understand that is a relatively short period of history if we map the entire evolution of man, but, I would think that we would've had a few more things worked out by now.

The tragic ending to Clarissa is a sobering analogy, only in death can she be free: free to remain unmarried, free from being a commodity traded by her family, and free from the power struggles and abuses she faced in life. After facing deception, exile, and ultimately ill health, Clarissa's only peace was found in her trust that life would be better after death. This ending, be it much more dramatic than my recent "ending," parallels my refusal to be dominated, controlled or over powered by a manipulative man. Like Clarissa, I'd rather live without possessions than be possessed by another whose thirst for power only highlights their deep insecurity and internal rage; and just like Clarissa, I too had to draw the line in the sand, speak my truth, and say that I would not continue down that road any longer.

As I wonder why I don't feel any better after having asserted my independence, I realize what I am feeling now is just fear of the unknown. Fear about the future is creeping in, which is a good sign, because it points to the fact that I am not tethered to a past dream, I am open and looking forward to what comes next. The next obvious question is, what comes next? This too, I do not know.