Copyrighted by Lorna Tedder. Originally published in Passion to the Third Degree .
Done. A few hours of intense spiritual work is always a bit of a relief for me. Letâ€™s just say that Iâ€™ve been divining for the summer.
Iâ€™ve had a little light shed for myself on the Ten of Pents romance and its abrupt halt, and it was as I suspected. Your children can rock your world in a way that no one else can. No matter how long a manâ€™s been in divorce court or how close they are to signing on the dotted line, I will never again get that involved with a man who is still legally bound. I hadnâ€™t thought it would matter, and while it didnâ€™t to me, it does to others. So Iâ€™m grateful for the light thatâ€™s been shed because that may save me a lot of heartache in the future.
Thereâ€™ll be light shed for him, as well, but I wonâ€™t do it. It would be very easy to. It would be by far the easiest for me to do. Thatâ€™s my nature. That old codependency coming out where I want to help and want everyone to have a happy ending.
Itâ€™s much harder to watch people you care about really fuck themselves over, but this has been the year for that, hasnâ€™t it?
I am really weary of watching people I care about make huge mistakes, of watching the consequences. Thatâ€™s happened with so many of â€œmineâ€ this year. So very many.
But sometimesâ€”and Iâ€™m talking about a multitude of loved ones nowâ€”the only way a major change can occur is by making the biggest mistake of your life and then figuring out exactly what that mistake was and why. Thatâ€™s the only way the light seeps through and begins to show the way. You learn to bear your own light, to be sure of your own path in a way you never could have before.
The light brightens and then you see the way. Iâ€™m trying to be happier about that, but I know, too, that when the light brightens and you see finally the way in front of you, you also see the things youâ€™ve left behind and the shadows of what you lost while you were busy fucking up.
I know. My lantern is oh-so-high, but I still sometimes look over my shoulder.