01 October 2016

The Journey: On Leaving You and Arriving at Me

I haven't been too personal on this blog lately. To be fair, I haven't really been much of anything on here lately. I've been hesitant for a number of reasons. When I finally remodeled this site a little over a year ago, I had hoped that this would once again become a public sanctuary for my thoughts, feelings, stories, crappy poetry, and life philosophies. But this year didn't turn out the way I expected it to, just like most years. I'm learning that that's not a bad thing. I'm learning that it's ok when the plans my very narrow mind plots and measures do not come to fruition.

On paper, 2 months ago my life kinda fell apart. I broke up with my boyfriend of 5 years. This has been both a devastating blow and a ... I don't have the words to describe the other half of what I feel. I'm 27 and I'm alone, and yet I don't feel alone inside myself right now, which I always feared I would. Instead, I feel more at home with myself. I don't want to get into any details of what happened except to say that I forgot how to love myself, care for myself, and advocate for myself. I lost myself completely in a relationship that didn't give me enough in return.

And here I am, the first day in October, my favorite month, and I am the happiest I have been in a very long time. Maybe that's the other half of the emotion, and I'm just afraid to admit it: HAPPY. Last year at this time, I made plans to lose 15 pounds and to eat healthier and to quit drinking for one year and to turn my soft, fleshy arms into hard muscle. I planned to have written half my book and to have read at least 40 books so far this year. I planned to build a life with a person that at one time was my entire world. Instead, I gained another 15 pounds, my arms are still fleshy, and I started incorporating alcohol back into my life. Instead, I haven't written anything except lesson plans and to-do lists and I haven't finished one book I've started this whole year. Instead, I am starting over, alone, with myself.

I am nowhere near the vision I had for myself of what I thought happy would look like. And yet, I'm happy.

I'm happy. The guilt over feeling happy for myself gets smaller each day. At first, when I first felt happy, it sizzled and burned in my chest. The sensation furrowed my brow. I was riding my bike by the beach and looked out at the water and down at my chubby thighs pushing the pedals forward and I started crying - I was HAPPY. I WAS SO HAPPY BEING ALONE BY MYSELF ON MY BIKE THAT I CRIED. Do you understand what a revolution that is? To fear that you were going to hate yourself if you were alone and to realize that you love yourself? To realize the person you've been all along is enough to make you happy?

But quickly after my real-life epiphany, the guilt set in. I felt guilty for being happy. What kind of mind fuckery is that? Guilt over happiness. I felt bad. It took me a long time to shake the guilt. But it is fading. Every now and then I get a sharp, searing pain in my heart when I realize how happy I am right now. Most of the time, though, it's just a tingling surge. I'm learning that it's ok to be happy for me. Silent revolution.

I found this poem, like so many other life-changers, on Brainpickings. It spoke to this journey I'm a part of - that is, of loving myself again. I hope this speaks to you, to the message "inscribed across/the heavens" waiting just for you.

Above the mountains
the geese turn into
the light again
Painting their
black silhouettes
on an open sky.
Sometimes everything
has to be
inscribed across
the heavens
so you can find
the one line
already written
inside you.
Sometimes it takes
a great sky
to find that
first, bright
and indescribable
wedge of freedom
in your own heart.
Sometimes with
the bones of the black
sticks left when the fire
has gone out
someone has written
something new
in the ashes of your life.
You are not leaving.
Even as the light fades quickly now,
you are arriving.
-David Whyte

Namaste, my friends.

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