"Sometimes we stare so long at a door that is closing,
that we see too late the one that is open."
Alexander Graham Bell1847-1922, Inventor
I clearly recall investing many emotions and thoughts over the past five years in my first marriage. Analysing, sorting, stewing, regurgitating...all in effort to keep me connected to a past life. Efforts, you can be sure, which ended with nothing gained but a sense of negative intimacy and intuitive insanity. Perhaps this was a necessary ritual designed to help me through my grief and the insurmountable burden of guilt that I felt for altering the lives of my husband and children. I had made a choice that hurt the people closest to me, and the emotions, constant turmoil, and effort to digest them seemed to be a logical penance.
Was it any wonder that my present life began to lose meaning... The daily joy of waking up to a new day, the relationships that surrounded me, my sense of self...all of these things faded into an obscure and haunting shadow. It followed me everywhere and reminded me constantly of the contrast between where I was at that moment (focused intently on the closing door) and of where I should be aiming my sights (at the open door in front of me). I was in the hallway of hell.
My decision to shift my focus came after many years. Although I could always carry on with the daily routines of life, it wasn't until I made the vast and intentional shift to focus on the road ahead instead of staring intently into the rear view mirror that I felt my life change. I could breath again. I could see details instead of blurs. Sounds became clearer and now, after awaking to the life I choose to live, I welcome the anticipation of change and new experiences.
The hallway of hell seems to be a necessary rest-stop on our journey through separation and divorce. How long we choose to stay there is entirely up to us.

