A Year to Heal

The shovel strikes a rock hidden in the dark brown soil. 

“Why is the dirt still so hard to dig in? I thought getting it wet would make it easier” Julie says to Billy as she puts all of her body weight on the shovel with her right foot and pushes hard into the ground. 

“I don’t know, but keep digging” Billy replies “We only need to go a little bit deeper for it to fit”.

It is an unseasonably warm spring afternoon. Julie and Billy are digging the hole in Julie’s backyard for the time capsule they created as part of their recovery project. The instruction was to create a time capsule at the beginning of your journey that will be dug up in one year to help you measure and realize the progress you have made. Julie wishes the soil would cooperate as the beads of sweat roll down her face and soak the armpits of her t-shirt. She had no idea this would be such a physically exhausting experience given that the process has been emotionally exhausting. She just wants to finish this and move on.

Julie and Billy met in the monthly group sessions for newly divorced people at the community center. Julie had not wanted to attend and had not been interested in the idea of sharing intimate emotions and details of her life with a bunch of strangers. But her therapist Melanie thought it would be helpful for her to connect with others in a similar situation. The loneliness of the ordeal was starting to take over; her married friends called less, her family was disappointed in her decision and had distanced themselves from her life and her kids were just angry. Talking to Billy on the first day had been reassuring and comforting. The response from his family and friends had been supportive, but full of pity, most not really sure what to say so they had started to keep their distance. For both Julie and Billy having someone understand the loneliness had started to cure the ache they had been feeling for months. Plus, Billy was gay so she didn’t have to be on guard that he was just there to try to sleep with her. That was what had caused her divorce in the first place; connecting with someone who just wanted to use her and discarded her literally ten minutes after he got what he wanted. The glow of the sex, which was not as fulfilling as she had anticipated based on the amount of passion between the two of them, had not even worn off and he was squirming to get away from her. There had been plenty of problems in the marriage before she met Steve, but that was the figurative nail in the coffin. Trying to process rejection by two people at once, for different reasons, was overwhelming and she made the difficult decision to leave the marriage and figure out how to make herself happy. 

Billy’s husband had left him for another man whom he met on an extended business trip and decided was his future. Robert had returned from the trip and abruptly announced he was leaving Billy and moving to Toronto to be with “the love of his life”. Billy had laughed at first, naively thinking it was a prank, and told Robert to grab his coat so they could walk to dinner. Robert didn’t laugh, or grab his coat, and the sinking feeling in his gut told Billy it was not a prank. Robert filed for divorce the next morning and by the end of the week had moved all of his belongings into a POD to be transported to Toronto. Billy was left utterly dumbfounded and lost, a suicide attempt and trip to the hospital followed by thirty days in an in-patient psychiatric unit had led him to the group at the community center. He had not been abandoned by his friends; he was the victim in his scenario, but he found that none of them nor his family members could relate to what he was experiencing. 

“It’s your turn, I am so done with this” Julie said handing the shovel to Billy.

“Wimp” he said “use those muscles, you’re a tough girl” his eyes twinkled as he mildly teased her and took the shovel from her hands. While the air was still cool the intensity of the sun was heating up the backyard quickly. “You could make yourself useful and get me a glass of water”

“Ha ha. I was thinking of mimosas but maybe we should wait until we have completed this little ritual” Julie replied 

“Yep, that sounds better,” Billy said and set his attention on digging the rest of the hole. 

When Marla, the community center group leader, had suggested the project two weeks ago Julie had immediately discounted the idea. How was a time capsule going to help her healing? She went home to her small two bedroom bungalow thinking she would pass on the exercise. But she couldn’t get the idea out of her head for several days. It was her week without the kids, they returned Friday night, so she had plenty of time to ruminate on the idea. By Tuesday night she found herself looking through old pictures of the family activities and adventures the four of them had enjoyed with the children when they were younger. The children were three years apart in age which meant they vacillated between loving and hating each other by the hour. That was her past, not her present and the instruction was to add something from the present that, in a year, would demonstrate an improved state of being. 

“I am just not sure what to add to the time capsule, this is dumb” she had been sitting on Melanie’s couch on Wednesday afternoon for her weekly session. It was classic that her therapist actually had a couch in her office, like was she supposed to lay down on it while she poured her heart out or was that just in the movies? She had imagined doing that once but then in her mind saw herself crying and choking on her tears while laying down and quickly banished the idea from her mind. 

“Why do you think it is dumb Julie?” classic therapist response from Melanie.

“I don’t know, maybe I just don’t want to revisit these feelings in a year. Aren't I here now to work through them and move on? Why would I want to move on and then relive it in a year? That seems counterproductive to me.” Julie’s rational mind seemed to have a consistent habit of taking over when things got hard.

“What are you doing right now Julie?” Melanie had been thinking the same thing and calling her out.

“I am compartmentalizing like a champ Melanie. It’s what I do. Put that hard emotion over there in that box, close the lid and lock the attic door.”

“And how has that worked out for you in the past?”

“Well, clearly not well as here I am. My life is a dumpster fire, I am barely hanging on. Most days I just survive, there is nothing left physically or emotionally by the end of the day.”

“Exactly. And in a year from now, if you keep doing the work, you will be in a different place. And you will open up that time capsule and be able to see how far you have come.” Melanie replied. “Are you still writing your poems?”

“Yes, when I can and when I have the energy to devote to it. Why?”

“Have you considered writing one about how you are feeling now and putting that in the time capsule? It could be very therapeutic to compare to your writing in a year when you have moved through this period. You will move through it Julie if you commit and do the work”

Later that evening, Julie had poured herself a glass of wine and sat down on the couch with her laptop. Some days the silence of the bungalow she had rented was a welcome sound, something she had yearned for when the kids were younger. Other times the silence was deafening, adding to the guilt and pain she felt about how her life had evolved. When she was young she never imagined being alone, she imagined she would be married forever to her best friend. Logically, she knew that marrying young came with the potential that people change and grow apart, but she had pushed that worry from her mind feeling invincible. She opened her laptop:

How did I get here, this place of pain,

The silence consuming my body and soul,

I close my eyes and pray for the rain,

To wash it all away and make me whole. 

The seasons are changing and I must follow,

To a place that is warm, filled with love and light,

And on that path I will leave my soul that is hollow,

I will learn to not be afraid of the dark of night.

Right now my mistakes and loss consume me,

Frustration and sadness ravage my body,

I struggle to open my eyes and see,

That I am more than just cheap and shoddy.

Julie hit the print button sending the words to the printer and closed her laptop. Cheap and shoddy was a great place to end the poem because most days when she reflected on her experience with Steve, relationship was not the right word at all,  this was how she felt. Remembering how she had disrespected herself over and over for him brought up vile feelings in her gut that had more than once sent her running to the toilet making it in time to catch the vomit. 

She retrieved the poem from the printer and placed it on the edge of the counter. As she walked to the sink to deposit her empty wine glass she caught her reflection in the glass of the microwave oven door and found an unrecognizable face staring back at her. It was the face of an old and sad woman that looked back at her, not who she pictured when she closed her eyes and imagined herself. The person reflecting from the appliance looked broken and defeated. Her hair was pulled into a tight bun on the top of her head with small grey baby hairs escaping and pointing straight up to the sky. Her face was sallow, with purple and blue circles prominent under her eyes from lack of sleep. Thin wrinkles had carved into what used to be smooth skin on her forehead and around her mouth which seemed to be in a permanent frown. She looked down at her feet that desperately needed a pedicure and took in the view of her clothes hanging off of her in the most unattractive way. In the last two months she had lost at least fifteen pounds, not in a healthy way, and muscle mass. Her once toned, though not skinny, body was thinner but saggy undoing the years of dedication in the kitchen and gym.  Standing in her grandma style pajamas she realized what the stress had done to her and the toll it had taken. Removing her mobile phone from her pocket, Julie selected the camera app, changed it to selfie mode and took a picture. The image in front of her on the phone screen was worse than what she had viewed in the glass; clearly capturing the pain she was experiencing. She sighed and shook her head as she sent the picture to the printer to accompany the poem. “God please let me at least look better in a year from now” she muttered to herself as he headed down the dark hallway to bed. 

“It’s ready,” Billy said, breaking Julie from her thoughts about the last two weeks. When he arrived that morning, she had gently placed the poem and the picture inside the empty coffee can next to the book, journal and selfie photo Billy had selected. They had agreed that they both looked awful and a picture would be a good thing to include, to hopefully visually show their progress. With the items safely inside they placed the plastic lid on top, wrapped it several times with grey electrical tape and prepared it to be buried.

Billy places the coffee can in the hole gently. “I feel like I am at a funeral. Should we say something?” he asks.

“Well, it is kind of like a funeral, right? Aren’t we basically burying the people we are now so that we can move on and grow and “get better” Julie replies using her fingers as air quotes. 

“You make a great point. Ok, here’s what I’ve got.” He clears his throat. “Today we place our current selves in the ground with hope that over the next year we will be nourished by this soil. Let the next year be one of growth, forgiveness, love, health and friendship. A year that finds us on the other side as healed and wiser people who have love to give to others”. As he finishes, Billy’s eyes fill with tears. 

“That was beautiful Billy. Did you really just come up with that or did you have it planned?”

“Well, you know me, I am a planner! I thought it up yesterday anticipating it would be a moment and something would need to be said” he replies smiling. 

“My friend, I am glad you did. And I am glad we did this together. Now let’s bury it and drink mimosas!” Julie says as she takes the shovel from his hands and starts moving the pile of dirt to cover the can. “Ashes to ashes”

“Dust to dust. These are the days of our lives” Billy finished and the two of them broke into hysterical laughter.