Thank you Dar Williams for your song, "It's Alright."  I've been listening to it regularly as one of my theme songs for this experience.  Sums things up quite nicely.
I know change is a bad thingBreaks me down into a sorry sad thingNot some iridescent grateful butterfly

I do resist change.  I am inherently someone who likes stability, tradition, patterns, met expectations.  I am not my sister who constantly yearns for the next thing.  I generally want to stay and perfect whatever I have.  


I'll resist with defianceNot the valor of a mystic silenceI will fight the dizzy spiral of goodbye

And boy did I resist.  I fought this dizzying spiral of goodbye with everything in me.  I gave it everything I had.  And I know that I am and will draw confidence to move on from knowing that I did absolutely everything in my power to not let this happen. 
And it's alright, it's alright, it's alrightIt's alright, it's alright, it's alright
Please don't say you don't love meNever dangle any sword above meWith the kind of change that severs me in two
I don't believe I ever really heard this verse until it happened for real.  I don't even really remember knowing what this song was about until it was my life. How many times had I sung along to the first verse or the chorus without even realizing what I was singing about?  Not that it's hard with three boys in the car to not catch all the words to a song during those rare moments when I was listening to "my" music.  But, like those theories that say you can't see something that you don't know exists, I don't think I ever realized what Dar Williams was singing about.  And now, I wonder, how does she know?  Has she had her husband of 10 years, father of her three sons, leave her?  How am I supposed to become a butterfly through this?  And not just any old butterfly, but an iridescent grateful one? 

Give me amberizing glassesCould you slow it down like molassesAs I salvage my old self away from you?
Oh, it's alright, it's alright, it's alrightIt's alright, it's alright, it's alrightIt's alright, it's alright, it's alright
Because I have seen insane thingsAll those grand, historic paintingsMorning light on polished swords and burnished pride
Anxious smiles encased in whaleboneSpines of steel from head to tail boneCannons poised to blast the turning of the tide
It's a sad and a strange thingBut it's time and I am changingInto something good or bad, well, that's your guess
I refuse to have it be questionable which way I've changed in the end.  I WILL come out of this stronger, wiser, and with a heart still full of love for those around me.  
I'm my own sovereign nationDedicated to a transformationMarching on with this target on my chest

I feel like a sovereign nation indeed.  Suddenly I'm at odds with my partner.  The one who was supposed to by my ally is now an adversary.  And I'm supposed to both stick up for myself and take care of my needs in this mediation process, which I sure as hell will, while also building a new partnership with him as a co-parent.  So I have to fight for myself in one part of our life and work with him in another part.  I guess the good news is that the mediation process can't last forever.  Eventually I will be able to put that aside and focus only on building the parenting partnership. Though right now I am so filled with hurt and anger that is very difficult, like walking around with a "target on my chest."  It's so easy to go from the logistical, businesslike conversation to the emotional and fraught-with-danger conversation.  One little comment can switch gears with a whiplash of intensity.  

Oh yes, it's alright, it's alright, it's alright Oh, it's alright, it's alright, it's alrightIt's alright, it's alright, it's alright
Oh, it's alright, it's alright, it's alrightIt's alright, it's alright, it's alrightIt's alright, it's alright, it's alright
But it's going to be alright.  In the end.  In the end.  Every day I'm working my way to being that butterfly.  Often I think of it more as a fucking butterfly, but eventually I hope to be iridescent and grateful.  I have so so many thoughts that just circle and spin in my head. It's like watching clothes spin through the glass door of a washing machine.  There's that one again, and again, and again.  And it's connected to that thought, which makes me think of that other thing again and there it is again, and yes, that makes me think of that again, and hey, isn't this a pattern, and haven't I already had this conversation in my head a thousand times already?  So maybe if I put some of the thoughts down I can take them out of my mental spin cycle.  Maybe.  Or at least, I'll have a record of how they eventually wore themselves out and new thoughts moved in. 
In my first session last week, my therapist asked me if I was a patient person.  I told her I had always thought of myself as patient, until I became a parent.  That's not entirely true I realized later, it was becoming a teacher that showed me I was less patient than I thought. But I believe her point was that I wasn't being very patient with myself.  That I need to allow myself to feel what I'm feeling (I am, trust me), and not be in such a hurry to feel differently (that's the hard part).  I'm not accustomed to holding onto grudges or anger or hurt this long.  
Ok, there really is no conclusion to this opening piece.  There probably won't be any nice tidy opening and closing thoughtfulness to any of this writing.  It's for me and me alone.  Stashed somewhere in the recesses of cyberspace, with my new anonymous identity, it will likely never be read by anyone but me, and that's fine.  I'm the only one who needs to see it.    Now to figure out how to blog straight from my phone.