There was an earthquake in California this morning. Did you feel it too? At 5 am this morning, I woke bleary-eyed in deep, sleepy thought to my bed frame rumbling for four seconds straight. Unfortunately, not the sort of bed rumbling I’m looking for these days, but that’s a whole other article for tomorrow — maybe.
In the meantime, this morning’s natural disaster teleported me to the two other times in my life where I can vividly remember feeling the ground-breaking shake of an earthquake:
The first time was in 2005. My then-husband and I were newlyweds, and what do you think we were doing at the time of said earthquake? You guessed it, making sweet, sweet love — from behind.
I was twenty-two years old, madly in love, and my ex and I had the world in the palm of our hands. Nothing could throw our love (making) off-kilter at that moment in time — not even an earthquake. In the middle of celebrating that love (for the hundredth time that week), I remember looking sharply to my right from hearing our closet doors begin to vibrate vigorously. But frankly, the whole universe could have been crashing down around us, and I would have stayed lost in that fairy tale moment with him by my side (or behind me) forever. Next, as our dresser started to shake, and I realized my world was rocking for a very different reason than I had initially thought — I heard my ex say tenderly,
“..Do you want me to stop?…”
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I didn’t want our affection for one another to stop back then — and I still don’t. However, this week, our time together as a married couple has officially come to a screeching halt. So, please bear with me; this is the first time I am processing signing my (old) life away. As the last twenty years flash before my eyes, my heart shakes, and my cheeks flush with intensity. Still, the simple fact that I can share this fond memory with you now tells me that I have done some major healing in the last two years.
Deep breath in.
And exhale.
The second earthquake experience I can recall was many years (and two kids) later. It was 3 am or so, and I remember springing up from bed and running to my daughter’s crib to find her safe, sound, and snoring like her dad. My ex ran down the hall behind me and took the first right into my son’s room to find him tucked in tight. Little did we know that the next few years would be the last ones we spent together as a family in that house.
This brings me to this morning, when I woke up at 5 am, alone in my parents’ house without my kids or their dad. It’s weird. It’s sad; it hurts so bad. Yet, through the salty lukewarm tears running down my face right now, I find myself overwhelmed with relief for making it out alive. And grateful for the opportunity to turn this natural disaster into a healing journey while I rebuild from the ground up.
Thank you for sticking by me through it all. You are loved. ❤
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Previously Published on Medium
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