"To feel is to heal" in the wise words of Ann Randolph.
I am processing the loss of a lot of things right now. I am trudging through the heavy sludge of what is no longer.
All the times when love didn't seem to be enough.
The evaporation of my adoptive family, the introduction of my birth family, seeing all the years that were lost, the friendships that haven't lasted, the business deals that went south, the relationships that have ended.
It gets messy.
And as promised... I'm publishing the mess. Owning it. Being honest, raw and vulnerable about all the feels.
That being the point of this journey. Finding myself. Shedding what isn't. Exposing what is.
The good, the bad... and unfortunately, especially the ugly.
But I'm finding the ugly isn't always that ugly... or at least, it doesn't have to be ugly for that long.
Yes, it hurts. Deeply. But only because of how much I cared. How tender I was able to be. How open and unguarded some moments were. There is a beauty in that. It is the loss of that beauty that is so painful.
Meaning, the ugly really is just a mask covering a beauty of what was. A beauty that lies underneath the disguise. A beauty that can only be reached again by returning to that openness. First feeling what is uncomfortable. Admitting the painful truth. The things I don't want to. What might not be pleasant or appeasing to the eye.
But I made a promise to do so. I made a vow to myself.
I have learned I can't ignore the loss. It doesn't go away without acknowledgement. The pain comes out in different ways, in different arenas. In order to let it go, I first have to recognize it. I have to feel it. I have to hold it, and then release it. To make space for what is coming. What is next. What is meant to be.
I can only feel loss of something I once had. That is the painful truth. I loved it. I'll miss it. It hurts. But I also see when things fall apart, it is because they need to be rebuilt. I may not know how at first, but I also know I will find a way. A new way.
Sooo, I'm figuring my way through the messy sludge.... to understanding, processing and moving forward.
Until I get there... Here's to loving, to losing, to letting go and to keep going...
There is a poem
By William Butler Yeats,
"The Second Coming"
The first two lines state
"All things fall apart
The center cannot hold."
I have witnessed the crumble
I have searched for the reason it originally cracked
Where the fissure began
Was it hit by words or an unexpecting blow?
Did it start out too unstable?
Was it too hard, too inflexible?
Unwilling to bend or morph?
Too thin without the needed nourishment?
Too weak without the proper support?
Had it been slowly whittled down?
Becoming sharp in the process
Becoming too painful to touch
Getting cut one too many times
Until I stopped wanting to reach for it
Realizing the slashes will only continue
No matter how I approach to grab it
That line now crossed
Too much said
Too much done
The point of no return
Into the irreversible
No matter intent or motive
With no way to take back.
I’ve reached that line.
I might have been the one who crossed it,
Created it or jumped over
I might have been the one
Who lit it on fire
Who sat back and watched it burn
Dissolve into ash
Impossible to put back together
A breathing, living thing
I once loved, caressed and cared for
Reduced to charred powder
Smearing between my fingertips
When I try to grasp what is left.
Fragile enough for the wind to now carry
And scatter into different places
Without anyone or anything seeing
The beauty it once was
Without ever having the chance
To become whole
Was it words?
Does it matter now that it has blown away?
Is the loss possible to make sense of?
Was it all a dream?
A hope? A prayer?
Was it real?
If it dissolved so quickly?
Or a figment of my imagination?
One I can hold onto
In my mind’s eye
In my heart's memory
Remembering how fleeting a reality was
How fragile things become
How permanent it is
Recognizing I too have cracked
Somewhere in the process
Holding myself together
In the pain, instead of pushing it away
Sitting with it
So, the crack does not spread deeper
Into my center, my core
Weakening and effecting more
"All things fall apart
My center will not hold"
But I can hold it
I can support and nourish
Until the crack mends
Healing into a thicker scar
To show exactly where I tore
Reminding me of how easily things break
The scar representing, I can do hard things
I can love deeply to the point I get punctured
No matter what
Knowing the fire can burn
But willing to step back
Into the flames anyway
Because I am marred but still together
With each singe, I am feeling
I am living
I am trusting
I can fall apart
But I can also hold myself together
I can burn
And I can love anyway
With the awareness, all things do fall apart
It too can dissolve in the flames
Into a charred powder
From that ash creating a new beginning
Dusting the embers off my wing
Ready to take flight