As an introvert, my alone time is essential to my health and well-being. As a spiritual seeker, it is crucial to my practice. And as a human being it is a necessary element to embrace in my daily life as I discover who I am in this world. Alone, I can hear the birdsong and the windsong and the watersong. I can peer into the very nature of existence itself with no one there to distract me from my journey. Alone I can hear the voice of my spirit whispering where to go, what to do, what to say and to whom. Alone I can see myself, hear myself, hold myself, know myself. I am grateful, so grateful for my solitude.
For a long time it felt like something was missing. I had been a Mrs. for so long, and now he was gone. There was an empty place in my bed, a hole in my heart, an vacant seat at the table, a void of presence in my life. But slowly, slowly, as time went on, I faced the one inside me who believed I couldn’t make it on my own. I worked hard. Day after day, I recommitted to my healing. I began to enjoy the company I kept in the quiet moments of solitude when I wasn’t working or mothering. It’s Saturday night and I’m alone. The highlight of my evening was a long soak in the tub. I love this moment. I love that nothing is missing. I love that I can feel my wholeness now. I love that I stayed alive for my healing.*
*If you’re reading this with a broken heart, having gone through a loss of a relationship or the loss of a loved one or the loss of something by which you formed your identity, please hang in there. It gets better. There were so many moments during my separation and divorce that the pain was so intense that I really thought I wanted to die. Thankfully I had Twelve Step Meetings, therapy and a few really good friends who helped me stay on this planet. On the other side of that terrible trial, I can look back and see what a gift it was. I am stronger now, and more capable of loving authentically. I have a clearer sense of who I am, and a much better idea of where I want to go and what I need to do to get there. There is hope, friend…hang in there.
Taught two yoga classes,
body is tired.
Kids are with their dad and his mistress
on a “family” trip to the ocean…
And I’m here, alone,
to make this time count.
What do I do?
Take a nap?
Read a book?
Make some art?
Write in my journal?
Play my guitar?
Bang on my drum?
Sew a dress?
Knit a scarf?
Drink some wine?
When faced with so many choices,
I work myself into such a tizzy
it’s hard to choose anything at all.
I suppose I could do all of the above.
But let’s be really really real—
isn’t it delightful to have so many choices?
Maybe I’ll just go write in my gratitude journal,
thankful to be asking these questions at all.
My girlfriends have left
and here I am in Phoenix,
in a nice room I found
on Airbnb (thank you!)
I leave tomorrow.
I miss my kids
and can’t wait to see them,
yet I feel anxious
about coming back
and seeing the man
who was my husband for eight years.
This grieving process makes no sense.
This heart feels healed and wounded
all at once.
I went to the desert for answers,
I shared my insights,
I meditated, laughed and cried.
My heart burst open.
I could see that everything will be fine.
But how to maintain that feeling
in a home that no longer feels like home?
I wonder how I can
back into my daily routine,
how I will look at him,
speak to him
knowing what I know now.
One day at a time I suppose…
it’s the only way this works
in the end.