 Gone Upside Down! “The impulse to keep to yourself what you have learned is not only shameful, it is destructive. Anything you do not give freely and abundantly becomes lost to you. You open your safe and find . . . ashes.” - Annie Dillard * * * The tide’s turned. But I can’t hear the waves crash their way up the shore. Lying on the sand under a starry sky next to a man with whom I’ve just shared intimacy, I’m overcome with emotions. I try to conceal my tears. He attempts to console. Unwittingly, I allow for a cultural concept, or maybe subconsciously I simply hope, that taking a lover will somehow wash away the disappointments of the more than twenty years of devotion I invested into a duplicitous spouse. Angry at myself for crying, I wipe at my eyes. But they keep spilling over with disillusionment, pain, loss. * * * Making the shift from family life into single culture is not an easy adjustment. I stumbled and I fumbled and I made errors in judgment in my attempt to avoid the inevitability of processing through grief while in the midst of constructing . . . a new normal. In addition to contending with internal inconsistencies, I faced the well-meaning advice, of family, friends, ex-in-laws, colleagues and, surprisingly, even strangers, that I open my perspective to hook-ups, to lovers and, of course, to another life partner. A longtime friend insisted she knew, from her country western dance class, just the right guy for me. In spite of my protests, a co-worker orchestrated a blind date for me with a several-years-my-junior catch. The girls at the office nudged me toward accepting one of many invitations extended to me by a good looking, bitter-at-his-ex-wife client. An ex-in-law admonished I head down to F Street Station and pick up a Pilot for the night to help give myself a little lift. A pastor’s wife I know thought I might make a good match for her husband’s best friend. A family member provided a stranger, half my age, with my phone number. My ex-father-in-law suggested I consider his son’s cousin. An acquaintance puzzled, “You’re so nice. Why are you single?” A friend of my friend’s friend propositioned, “Let’s have sex?” At my proclamation to maintain single status, a sweet soul, in her 70s, gently attempted to dissuade . . . Innumerable pressures distract from the hard, but necessary, work of quieting the heart. But it is in the quiet that truth reveals. And when we face heartbreaking truths, we are then better equipped to step forward in the direction where truth is leading us - toward healing. “On the other side of your fear is the life that you want.” - Nick Nyalungu - Green Renaissance When I exhausted my heart repeating self-sabotaging cycles, a friend’s sage advice came to mind; and I quit fighting against the pain. Instead, I peered soberly into the complexities of my hurting heart and faced the discomfiting realities. “Healing also means taking an honest look at the role you play in your own suffering.” - Unknown At times I thought I’d suffocate under a torrent of emotions. I flailed about in the turbulent, black water that feelings are either good or they are . . . unacceptable, until, Chip Dodd’s perspective on feelings cast a lifeline.  When I grew to understand that feelings are neither good nor bad but that they merely serve to draw my attention to issues in need of addressing and changing, finger pointing and conversely self-abasing slowly transformed into a roll-up-my-sleeves approach. So I extended myself a bit of grace and I started working through emotions in such a way that benefitted rather than impaired my quality of life. I furrowed through the hard, dry encrusted top layer of emotions that searing betrayal and loss create: anger, fear, hurt. But the rocky under-layer of emotions proved more arduous to plow through. I use to live in the Johnson Creek area; a rocky geology. My stepdad delegated, to my little sister and me, the task of removing rocks from his soon-to-be garden. I was eight at the time, but I clearly recall the feeling of sitting in the hot dirt under a scorching sun extracting stone after stone from what seemed a vast swath of earth. A hard-to-please perfectionist with a hair-trigger temper, my sister’s and my little girl approach to the task enraged our stepfather. His anger had the reverse effect, however, for it only severed to slow our progress further in our fearful preoccupation with his anger. I felt much the same toward my own stoney emotions. I’d work in the intensely heated soil of my heart attempting to extract shame, guilt, loneliness, sadness, cynicism, rejection, abandonment, inadequacy . . . But when my inner critic railed at my awkward, feeble attempts at change, the condemnation merely served to impede any substantial growth. “The life of every man is a diary in which he means to write one story, but ends up writing another; and his humblest hour is when he compares the volume as it is with what he vowed to make it." - James M. Barrie When I accepted my slow progression, I made strides. Part of transformation, for me, necessitated serious life shifts. I packed my belongings, moved from a busy yet disingenuous social life and relocated to a quieter community of authenticity. I implemented respectful boundaries and tearfully walked away from a three year romance. I exchanged a career in a contractually governed, number-crunching, pugilistic industry for a remote Alaskan wilderness adventure. “You need to do more than just eat nourishing food, exercise and rest to feel your best. You also need to be around good people, spend time healing your emotional history, live in alignment with your values, say no to people pleasing, stay open to growth and deeply embrace change.” - Yung Puebo These external changes, as well as others I committed to, cultivated an atmosphere where new life began to grow in the loamy soil of my fertile heart: trust, patience, forgiveness, joy. Rumination matured into a hopeful perspective. Emotional muscles developed as did spiritual endurance. A healthier sense of worth replaced self-flagellation. Gratitude eradicated my woe-is-me outlook. Blame gave way to empathy. Bitterness dissipated in the assurance of God’s love and acceptance. And a deep abiding peace settled over my worry-driven soul. Rushing toward a new attachment did not wipe away the pain from the years I gave to my husband. A casual encounter merely jaded my wounded psyche. A new lover did not resolve anger or mend fences or heal what broke my heart or redeem time or do the hard work of processing through my own personal grief. Once I committed to facing and putting things to right, to restructuring and moving toward new goals and to finding the courage to be vulnerable again while maintaining healthy boundaries, the dividends paid and continue to pay far beyond the arduous effort I exerted toward healing, toward a new way of life and living. Grieving is valid. Grieving must have its day. Grieving is gloriously, messy and yet an integral part of healing. But we are not alone in this feat; God loves and He absolutely cares. And . . . I assure you that healing truly is on the other side of grief and life will look sweet, from a new perspective, once again.
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"Stand up straight and realize who you are . . .
that you tower over your circumstance." Maya Angelou |
AuthorIn a culture where people resist the idea of anyone speaking into their lives, I feel most fortunate I've people, who care enough for me, they risk speaking into mine. Their words provide a safeguard. And I love them for their commitment to my best. I also appreciate the words of wisdom of others who, though we've never met, share similar perspectives on life. I am drawn to their words as they encourage, inspire, empower. I hope you'll find their words provide you with the same. Archives
February 2025
Categories - Thought Of The Day |
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