Embracing Darkness and Pain
“Sometimes things fall apart so that better things can fall together.” ~ Marilyn Monroe
“Get back out there,” “keep busy,” “distract yourself”; those were just some of the common phrases repeated… I listened for about 2 weeks.
I respect that people may not verbalize the most ideal words and phrases in moments of sadness and grief, and sincere when they advise you to keep yourself busy, to distract. I too have been prone to voice the very same words; to others and to myself. But in truth, it is a disservice, and you are doing yourself an injustice if you listen and act upon such behaviors for too long.When one's heart is broken all one wants is to be soothed by a warm embrace and ease into the support and confidence of an open and trusting soul; to escape being told what to do, how to feel, or how to be. You just want someone to listen. To really listen.
“I am not ready for a commitment or the obligation and expectations of a relationship.” Those words repeated in my mind daily like a news ticker at the bottom of a TV screen broadcasting the local news. At first, I listened to old patterns and the suggestions of others. I got busy with distraction. I spent evenings at my moms; sleeping in the comfort of my once teenage bedroom hoping to fall asleep and awaken from this nightmare of defeat that seemed to be suffocating my everyday. I found myself in the company of good friends. I went out. I drank wine. Meals consisted of peanut butter and raspberry jelly sandwiches. I walked around numb for weeks, dazed and confused. The thought of being alone was intimidating, and I did everything to avoid moments of silence, loneliness. For a moment the world stood still. It felt good this distraction. Then something within woke to tell me this time it would be different, we are going to do things differently. All you need is you. You have the power and strength to turn things around. “I got you, she said. It’s not going to be easy, you will cry, and there will be moments of doubt. You will believe you are not worthy, but trust me when I tell you, you are.”
I went to class and as often as I could. I began to meet privately with my teacher. We worked on practices of love and compassion to support my time of grief. She taught me to acknowledge the magnitude of my pain. The loss I had witnessed and the suffering that accompanied. To make friends with my emotions, not resist, constrict nor hide from. To allow them to rise to the surface and wash over me like a wave. I learned to swim in the discomfort of my heartache and tears. I slowed down. I got still. I breathed and took comfort in rest and found solace in being alone. I experienced pockets of ease and encouraged activities that promoted healing and nourished my spirit.
A few months post-heartbreak, I was presented with an opportunity to join a dear friend and mentor on a yoga retreat she was leading… I said yes. My intuition took me to Costa Rica. To a place and opportunity where release and letting go, healing and growth professed a broader appeal. The universe and all its allure brought me a gift, an angel in disguise with beautiful long blond hair and eyes the color of the sea. Her presence was one of elegance and grace, profound wisdom and intuitive healing. We connected. Within moments I recognized I was safe. I allowed my heart to be vulnerable once more because this time it would be protected. And it was. My healing took on a new meaning, a chapter of unfamiliar territory. The week spent with Theresa and the group, assisting and supporting others provided much more in return. Reminded of the importance of connection; to others, to nature, to Self.
Upon my return home our work continued; me and my intuitive healer. I got busy. Busier each day only this time not by distracting with the external playground, but by getting intimate with the internal landscape. I was even more committed to my practice. My healing and grief were no longer about the man I had lost, but about me and all the layers, decades and chapters of my life. All the heartache and loss. All the let downs and disappointments. And I didn’t discriminate. I exposed it all; all those who walked away and threw in the towel feeding this addiction, this belief that I was not enough. I came face to face with the one most guilty. The one desperate to disguise. The one who repeated the story of doubt, mistrust, and unworthiness.I dismantled only to put myself back together. I surrendered to the darkness and marveled in the light. I sat with the little girl that was abandoned. I held her by the hand, looked her in the eye and told her she was safe, held. I was here and always will be, fear not.
The work I did was profound. Ground-breaking and that no therapist had ever taught. I got intimate with my pain. Witnessed, exposed and started to heal through the power of trust, strength, inner wisdom and intuition, and most of all, forgiveness.
You see what I thought was the loss of love; a man I imagined so much with and gave my all to was designed so timely. To guide me on a journey of triumph and loss, hope and distress, only to be reminded that love was never lost. I had just lost my way, and now I had arrived. I was home. To return to see all I ever needed, all I ever wanted was right here all along deep inside. It was as though I had been gazing into the looking glass only to uncover a reflection of elegance waiting to be discovered, taken by the hand and guided back to the once familiar ground that felt so foreign for so many years.I stood grounded and confident in my voice and place of truth. I fell in love, and she was all I ever imagined and so much more; exquisite in nature and beautiful as a butterfly, ready to fly again. Whole again. And this time I had done it differently. Instead of getting out there, I got in there, and I never turned back.