Crying Yes Risk Joy

Snowdrops
Louise Gluck

Do you know what I was, how I lived? You know
what despair is; then
winter should have meaning for you.

I did not expect to survive,
earth suppressing me. I didn't expect
to waken again, to feel
in damp earth my body
able to respond again, remembering
after so long how to open again
in the cold light
of earliest spring--

afraid, yes, but among you again
crying yes risk joy

in the raw wind of the new world.

In the wake of learning of my husband's infidelities, I sought knowledge, understanding, and comfort where I always have - in reading. In fiction, in memoirs, in poetry, in articles, in self-help books, in scientific studies, in advice columns, in blog posts.

I began compiling a list of readings I found helpful, in one way or another. Some that I wanted him to read. Some that I wanted friends to read. Some that I returned to over and over again, because every time I read them they offered a new insight or reaffirmed something I needed to remember. That list only continues to grow, and so I created this blog in part to keep a record of these readings.

I also created this blog for you. I assume you are here because you or someone close to you has been betrayed. For that, I am so sorry. I found these readings helpful, and I hope you do too.

I am opening this blog with one of my favorite poems of all time, which has felt relevant at so many different stages of my life. It's written from the point of view of the snowdrop - a perennial that blooms in the harshest of environments. 

It's raw, this new world we are in - but we can survive, waken again, open again - cry yes risk joy.