I have a secret, that I’m ashamed to admit.
You know Elizabeth Gilbert’s book ‘Eat, Pray, Love’?
I hate it.
Should I duck for cover?
Actually, let me further incriminate myself by admitting that during the peak of my ‘hate’, I actually thought I hated Elizabeth Gilbert as well.
I was given a copy of the book by a close friend shortly after my marriage collapsed. She said I’d love it, so naturally I went to bed with what I thought would be a good book. I remember reading how Elizabeth was so upset in her marriage that every night she cried in the bathroom. I had a vivid image of her in my mind, curled up against the bathroom door, sobbing. Just sobbing.
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The truth is, I could see her so clearly in my mind’s eye because I too had my own bathroom crying scene. I was fully clothed and in the shower. I knew at the time wearing clothes in the shower probably made me look crazy, but the alternative of being naked, exposed and completely vulnerable didn’t seem right. The warmth and weight of my wet clothes under the stream of hot water was comforting; providing the heaviness of a hug. I was leaning against the shower screen, sobbing. Just sobbing.
Elizabeth was sobbing because she wanted out of her marriage. I was sobbing because my husband had just told me he wanted out of our marriage. He became Elizabeth. I couldn’t read any more.