The past few months have been the hardest of my life. No exaggeration. Maybe it’s because I’ve been so happy for a while and I didn’t see this coming. Regardless, it doesn’t matter. It’s been absolute shit.
Here’s how I thought things were going to go at the beginning of March: I had just launched this website and was excited to contribute to it regularly. I knew I’d have at least a few months off of work and I had signed up for an online business course to up my game with my blog. Quite out of character I didn’t plan a trip to Ireland because I wanted to focus on the course and on my man friend. I’d get to cook us dinner and maybe take a trip to some place close like Tofino. It was supposed to be a magic time of rest, relaxation, yoga, and beer. Utter happiness.
Here’s how things actually went down: The course was awesome but I figured out quite quickly that I had done a lot of things “wrong” setting up my site on my own. Don’t get me wrong, I’m mad proud of getting to the point that I did but I also realized that if I want to take the website and my life as a writer seriously I had a lot of work to do. That and I realized that the course was all about how you can sell a product or service and that didn’t fit what I was planning on doing. All I want to do is write and share my life in whatever way feels authentic and this isn’t exactly a money maker. So blogger’s block set in but that was just the tip of the iceberg. As it turns out things with my man friend weren’t working out. It’s a very long story and I’m not sure what I can respectfully share online but he started pushing me away big time. Now I’m not one to give up without a fight and basically from March to pretty much until mid May I wasn’t taking the hint that he wanted space meant he didn’t want me. I just knew in my bones that he and I are so good for one another, I love the shit out of him and thought that he was “a one”. We were even trying to have a baby together. I hate to admit it but I literally begged for him to see what he was doing…not choosing me/us/love, but he wouldn’t relent. And that’s the biggest, hardest hitting lesson I’ve learned. That true love doesn’t always win. Here I am, 44 years old, and I actually thought that if you really loved one another it’d would always work out. Naïve but the truth. Now I know he hasn’t been in a good place, that he hasn’t done his healing work in his life, but I didn’t anticipate that him not doing his work would precipitate me having to do a shit ton of my own.
A few years ago I was addicted to this yoga teacher named Julie Peters and she wrote this amazing article for Elephant Journal Why Being Broken In A Pile On Your Bedroom Floor Is A Good Idea. She talks about Akhilanda, the Goddess of Never Not Broken. I’ve thought about this Goddess a lot lately and worshipped at her altar as I seem to be in a pile on any floor anywhere. I’ve found consolation in the fact that we are all always broken, never a consistent limited whole, always putting ourselves back together again as many times as we need to. As Julie says “In our brokenness we are unlimited”. On my good days this totally resonates with me. In my bad moments it completely annoys me. But I get it.
Besides learning the harsh reality that love doesn’t win and that being broken is natural I’ve also learned so much more. The cycle of break up, break down, break through has reaped many lessons I didn’t know I needed to glean and initiated healings I didn’t even know I needed.
My reality? He didn’t choose me, I’m not good enough, I’m afraid of getting hurt…pretty standard wounds I guess. But let me tell you that doesn’t make them any less harder to face and work through. I’ve learned first hand that all of this stuff that I believe and fear will surface in my reality for me to heal and I’m doing that. I just wish it didn’t hurt so much or take so long.
I’ve learned that I really can’t control everything in my life and it’s been a humbling journey of accepting acceptance. Something I’ve discovered I’m actually crap at.
I’ve also hit meditation hard and every morning I remember I’m a spiritual being having a human experience. Sounds corny but it’s a simple sentiment that somehow helps me navigate all of this better.
I’ve been reluctant to share what I’m going through with my family because I don’t want them to worry. This has put the onus on my friends who have angelically put up with me when I know I’ve been a lot to take. For answering my calls late at night when I couldn’t stop crying and almost stopped breathing. For sending healing vibes, for helping me to see hard truths, and for helping me gain a new perspective. Like my hairdresser who thinks it’s amazing to feel something so passionately. That’s what life is all about he thinks. And then my facial guru who, bless her heart, essentially told me to make it my job to grieve. To go deep as long as I needed to. You’ve got to feel it to heal it. Easier said than done.
I remember a moment when I was quite low I came across a quote from Elizabeth Gilbert: “This is a good sign, having a broken heart. It means we have tried for something”. It made me feel so much better for a few reasons. Her simple yet profound words alone helped me realize that my blog, my words, could potentially help someone else some day and this was a revelation. I can serve people by sharing my experiences and maybe that will help them laugh, or make them feel less alone, or give them guidance as to what to do in life or what not to do more likely. This has given me a newfound hope for this website, my blog, and sharing my stories. The quote also validated my broken heart. That maybe I didn’t do something wrong in that I did try for something. For love. And that’s something I’m actually really proud of. In fact I wouldn’t have it any other way.