Just letting this moment be enough
and exploring the idea of contentment,
realizing there are no missing pieces—
finally, the freedom she had been seeking
revealed itself eaily and naturally,
as if it had always been there.
Then she realized that it really
HAD always been there.
The moment she chose
to pay more attention to her inner experience
than to the judgments of others
she recognized the sweet truth of it all.
Forgiveness cannot be forced.
When my family fell apart
I tried to rush to forgiveness,
thinking that it would speed up
the healing process.
But I was just engaging in
using my spirituality
to circumvent the messy trenches
of deep grief and traumatic loss.
I prayed to God to show me the way,
hoping I could fly over
the dark valley and avoid
what lurked there in the shadows
of my deepest, darkest memories.
I read books and listened to speakers,
I attended meetings,
I thought I knew what I was doing,
but I was really attempting
to avoid the inevitable.
Finally I discovered
that what I really needed
was to allow myself to feel.
I had to go through the grieving process.
I had to face the loss of the life I knew,
I had to take each day
one at a time.
Some days the pain was so intense
I didn’t think I could live through it.
People would tell me
It won’t be like this forever;
I didn’t believe them.
Over time, as I remained clear
and focused on my goal
to find a place for me and my kids,
I noticed the fog was lifting;
I felt more like myself
with each passing day.
Looking back I see
that it was my effort to heal
that blocked the healing.
It was my belief
that things should be a certain way
that kept me from embracing things
as they were.
And now I’m still working on forgiveness,
but at least I have the sense now
to allow that grace to come, naturally,
when the time is right
and my heart is ripe
for such sweetness…
I’m not feeling good and
I just want to distract myself.
For the first time in months
I watch some Netflix.
It occurs to me how similar this is
to drinking or shopping
or any other numbing out behavior:
when the show is over,
the feelings are still there.
This is why they say
You gotta feel it to heal it.
But when will I be ready to feel?
Slowing down, taking time…
Body run down
says Stop. Rest.
I rest as much as I can
in between classes.
It would be so easy to blame.
To go back into victim mode
and complain about the upheaval.
But that’s not congruent with who I am.
Who I am is strong.
Who I am is loving.
Who I am is resourceful, creative, inspired.
Who I am is kind.
So instead of looking out and blaming,
I look in and ask,
What can be done now?
My body says Rest.
I listen. I rest.
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.
Overcoming the old programming
by taking action
in direct opposition to the fear.
I was told I was terrible with money
so I retaliate with a budget.
I was told I was lazy,
so my answer is hustling with all I got.
I was told I was a squatter,
so I found my own place to live.
I was told to get a real job
so I tripled my work
at the job I already had.
Go ahead. Keep talking.
Every criticism makes me stronger.
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.