Hi. I’m back. I don’t know if I’m ready, but here goes nothing… (SPOILER: this was pre-written but I promise more on what I’ve been dealing with this last week later on):
So, how do we actually do it? Like what happens when we get to the part where we are ready? We’ve braced ourselves; we’ve mustered up the courage and we think we are ready. I said think because we never really know what we are facing and with that uncertainty comes a slew of other ‘what ifs.’
How do we get to the deepest parts of ourselves in order to really feel the things that will likely hurt the most? How did I reconcile or accept the goodbye I had to face? The half-facing left me exhausted. Spent. Raw. Despondent. Headachy. What was in store for me if I took on all of it? What would that look like and would I be able to handle it? Would it just be more of what I currently felt or would there be an extra element? A little something that would surely put me right over the deep end.
I didn’t know except that I had faith that whatever it looked like, I would survive it and also, it would be temporary. I guess those two concepts go hand in hand, but we have to first accept survival before we recognize or accept the ‘this too shall pass’ concept. Does that make sense? Maybe I should break it down a little more. I suppose it can’t hurt. Worse case is I’m boring you a little because you get it.
The reason I’ve usually felt (and what I’ve heard expressed by friends and other loved ones time and again) that I wouldn’t move through something is because it felt like it was going to be around in that way forever. Like when my relationship ended, I told a mentor of mine that I was sure I would never trust men again. I was so burned by the exchange I had with my ex. The lies, the betrayal, the shitty treatment. I couldn’t imagine a time where I didn’t see most people of the opposite sex painted with the same lens. I couldn’t envision a day where I didn’t question someone’s logic, motivations, and intentions. In the absence of a clear end point, it seemed like I would not move through the pain I was experiencing.
Every new and shitty situation with a man would just reinforce my agenda and preconceived notions and I would cycle through heartache again and again. I wouldn’t be able to see clear through to an agony-free existence because I would always contend with this all-encompassing, life-changing paradigm when it came to men.
I can’t say I really trust at this point in time, because I’ve thus since had some pretty shitty experiences. However, I’ve been able to acknowledge my potentially flawed thinking enough to snap the fuck out of it. More to the point, I’ve moved away from the concept of a shared life being a necessity enough to feel free. Happier. It wasn’t an easy journey to get there, but it was necessary and I’m pretty glad I found my way through it all. Like I’m not craving a relationship, and I’m over hunting for one online, but I can see it being something I’d want one day when the right opportunity presented itself.
So, let’s get back on topic or more pointedly on topic anyway.
I couldn’t decide how long my grief would last or the duration of any particular stage of that grief. I could accept the notion that whatever the length of time, there was a finite end point. At some point, I would be able to move through my sadness and anger to make peace with all of it. And if I couldn’t get to a calm place with all of it, at least I’d be able to leave it mostly behind me. Keep the good stuff and leave the other shit in the rearview mirror.
That acceptance took away some of the terror I was feeling, but just some of it. The rest of it sat heavy on my chest. So, I had to breathe. I know. Eye roll. But, it’s the truth. My truth. I had to take really deep breaths to embrace my fear and anxiety. I couldn’t get rid of those feelings but I could do the thing I needed to do in spite of them. This also required a serious helping of faith. I had to know in my heart that the fear and anxiety I felt were my mind and body dishing out a serious helping of self-protection. They weren’t warning signals per se. They were in the sense that I was being prepared for tough times ahead, but not in the way that I was being led away from facing everything I needed to. It’s like my brain and heart were saying “this is going to feel really bad and honestly, it’s going to suck, but you got this.”
I had to use my breathing to conjure some real deal perspective. I had hurt before and I would hurt again. This was another lesson. An agonizing and shitty lesson, but a lesson. Nothing is permanent. Nothing is everlasting. Nothing is forever. Love as much as you can when you can. No holding back, nothing left on the table, no regrets.
Had I avoided the love I had in my heart, the goodbye would have been exponentially easier. My pain came from familiarity, adoration, and connection. If I didn’t have any of those things, the goodbye would have been a formality. But, what then? What of my memories? What of all the things that grew me, taught me, shaped me?
As a yoga teacher, I always tell my students that yoga shouldn’t hurt. Ever. But then I have to caveat that statement with another bit of wisdom. Sometimes we don’t really know the difference between hurt and expansion. Sometimes we cannot discern between harm and growth. Growing, expanding, learning…these things can be difficult and uncomfortable. They can feel new in a way that is ill-fitting and disturbing. When we reach the threshold of that newness, we often retreat, sure that we’ve run into some place we shouldn’t be. Sometimes, though, we just have to breathe. We have to ask ourselves if it is pain we feel or the tinge that comes with something we are radically unaccustomed to.
In keeping with the theme of my yoga classes and practice, I heard this great sentiment shared by a yoga instructor (@kristinmcgee), as follows: “Yoga is not about touching your toes, it’s about what you learn on the way down.” Facing something difficult and painful isn’t about busting through to the sunshine. It’s about all the really good shit you learn along the way. It’s when we dig deep enough to face parts of us that we have never even been introduced to before. It’s about understanding that it is indeed better on the other side, but there’s so much to see on the ride there.
Hold on tight.
L.
thepathtoworthy.com 