I take a breath.
This moment is good.
I choose to meet it with gratitude.
Not fighting, but accepting this moment,
choosing how to act, what to say.
Sometimes I’m not ready
for this level of responsibility.
Sometimes I’m full of joy and gratitude
for this opportunity to grow and evolve.
Sometimes I move from
to bubbly happiness
This is what it is to be human,
able to feel so much.
Something beautiful is happening…
I think it might be resilience?
Wisdom gained from experience?
But as I found myself caught
in my monthly darkness today,
instead of falling all the way down
into the dark hole of depression
and believing my life was never good
and never will be good
I remembered that this was a temporary darkness,
and all I had to do was ride it out.
I prayed. I breathed.
I reassured the little girl in me
who was never allowed to feel sad or angry
that I saw her and loved her.
It didn’t change the mood.
it was still awful and dark and sad,
but some part of me knew this was temporary.
What can I call this?
That has a nice ring to it.
I think I’ll call it grace.
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.
Giving my all
and keeping the faith,
waking up in thanks,
and praying for stamina,
working harder than ever
and singing praises for what I have,
day by day,
living this way,
smiling and choosing happiness
(no matter what)—
life is looking up.
And I see now
how ridiculous it was
to ask life to change for me,
for it to get easier,
for people to be more loving
more understanding and present—
I am the one who had to change.
When I changed on the inside,
when I decided to reclaim my power,
reignite my passion,
and revisit my values,
everything on the outside changed…
and I am grateful.
Always in the process of becoming,
always in flux,
life is movement, not stagnation…
so why do we yearn for
safety, stability, routine?
Our minds are hardwired
for familiarity, comfort and ease,
but our greatest potential
and truest growth
exist just outside of the comfort bubble.
Transcending the constraints
of the life we knew
will feel, by definition, uncomfortable,
as we leave the safety of our bubble
and venture into possibility.
Ask yourself who you’d rather be
as you lie on your deathbed about to take your last breath:
A person who took the familiar path
A person who lived an extraordinary life.
The choice, dear one, is yours.
Fresh, clean kids are asleep
in their fresh, clean sheets…
And even though I’m crazy tired,
I’m kind of wired,
walking around in wonder
that this has finally happened.
Our own place.
Our own memories.
A new chapter,
untainted by the one
who almost broke me.
I lit a candle,
made a cup of tea
and am settling down cozily
to read and muse
and feel so much gratitude.
We moved! We moved! We moved!
And I am moved
by the moving, by the help received,
by the sheer quantity of stuff,
being forced to look at all of it,
make decisions—stay or go?
Intentionally setting up nooks of creativity,
creating a sewing studio in the basement—
this has been a DREAM…
And now, it’s coming true,
because I choose, I choose,
to live the dream,
to move and be moved
by this wonderful life
to trust, to love,
to jump, to open
I know now that it had to happen.
I’ve come to this realization before,
so bear with me, but you know how this works.
We keep circling and circling and circling back
to the same old stuff until one day we get it,
and we can finally set off on a new trajectory.
It had to happen.
I was comfortable, and comfort was making me complacent.
I knew deep down I was meant for more.
I longed to be met at my depth,
to be seen and held and loved by someone capable
of seeing my value and loving the woman that I was.
It wasn’t happening, and a part of me grieved deeply.
It wasn’t happening, and I resigned myself to a love
not quite deep enough to be congruent with my true nature.
I yearned for more, so deeply in my heart I yearned,
and a voice said that I was fooling myself,
that such a love wasn’t possible in this world.
I was determined to do the work inside myself,
to search for where I felt unmet and dissatisfied,
and discover how I could meet and satisfy myself.
Hence the meditation, the writing, the reading,
the sewing, the knitting, the kombucha making,
the therapy, the workshops, the trainings,
the research, the practice, the commitment to arete.
I secretly thought I was doing him a favor
putting up with his lack of depth, his lack of vision,
his inability to penetrate me fully to the core of my being,
to flower me open to bigger possibilities,
to take me open to God.
Well if this is it, I told myself,
then I may as well make the most of it.
So I kept going.
And then it happened.
He dumped me. ME.
Me, the mother of his children.
ME, his WIFE.
Me, his yoga teacher.
Me, his partner, his best friend.
He threw me away.
It had to happen.
It took a while, but I see this now.
At times I look jealously at intact families,
and I’m triggered by what was stolen from me.
But then my new mindset arrives and reminds me
It had to happen.
The comfort was making me complacent.
I had to be made extremely uncomfortable
to be forced out of this nest, this cocoon,
this cage of material wealth,
where my needs for food, clothing and shelter were met,
and the price I paid for it all was my authentic happiness.
I look back on who I was and I shudder.
I look forward to who I know I will be and I shiver.
I look within to the one I am now and I smile,
at peace with the fact that sooner or later,
it had to happen.