So, this is not a story about divorce. Well, it is, in
as much as the long and messy unraveling of a long and messy relationship
impacted the content, direction and tone of the story. So it’s definitely part
of the story- a big, huge pageturner of a chapter- but it’s not the whole
story.
Layered into the obvious image of a marriage knot yanked
undone is a metaphor that is connected- certainly- but so much more significant
and relevant to me, here, now.
And it is this.
Rope has a memory. Leave it coiled up in a corner long
enough and it becomes resistant to changing its shape. Twist it, turn it, tie
it in a knot, and (even long, long after you undo it) if you just let the rope
dangle free, it won’t be able to help itself from curling back in the direction
it knows so well.
So it seems with life. Impulses become patterns;
patterns become imprints; imprints become completely unconscious and automatic
ways of being and doing. And that means that real and legitimate change
requires sustained and deliberate effort.
So that’s what this story is about.
Untying the knot of anxiety that sat for so long and so
deep in my belly.
Rejecting the instinctive response to be afraid- of the
future, of the opinion of others, of confrontation, of rejection and loneliness
and all those other ugly ego-driven emotions, of the unknown, of unfulfilled
dreams.
Refusing to make decisions rooted in fear or in guilt.
Saying “Yes!” to people and ideas and opportunities that
are life-giving.
Living openly- with eyes open to the beauty around me,
mind open to fresh ways of thinking, heart open to kindred spirits and those
who might love me, teach me, or make my life richer.
Embracing the moment of what is RightHereRightNow
instead of dwelling on what is lost, what is missing, what remains to be done.
Sharing my truth in as authentic and humble a way as I
know how, so that shame is no longer permitted to be a big red stamp inking the
pages of my story.
Leaning into the important, beautiful but often
uncomfortable lessons buried deep within the times of hurt and struggle.
Learning how to forgive, and not really to forget, but
to remember just enough that I am able to make better choices next time.
Trusting my gut.
Slowing down.
Remembering my worth, even when others forget.
Living from my heart- not sheepishly or secretly, but
boldly- ignoring the snickers and raised eyebrows of those who think my way of
viewing the world is naïve or flaky or silly.
Learning- and I freaking hate how tough this one is- to
be patient with myself and with the process.
And what a process it is!!
When I found myself at the crossroads between being a
wife and unanticipated single life, I was a mess- a broken, bitter, exhausted, absolutely
terrified wisp of a woman. The only way to move myself along the journey from
simply surviving to full-on thriving was to (bit by bit by teensy weensy bit) reject
the lies that had etched themselves into every aspect of my being, and then to
(slowly but surely) replace, reprogram, recalibrate, essentially rewrite my
story by remembering the truth, the real truth, my truth.
And this is where the journey towards healing and
wholeness becomes so much longer and more difficult than anticipated, because
there is a vast difference between knowing the truth and, like, really KNOWing it, owning it, living it.
I have a massive collection of truths swirling around in
my head, truths gained through moments of epiphany, through the encouragement
of others who help me see myself better, or through the model and mentorship of
strong and joyful women. But I forget these truths again and again and again,
because, just like that rope, my spirit has a memory and often instinctively
turns back to the familiar ways of the past, even if those ways are unhealthy
and ineffective or downright self-destructive.
I post reminders up on the inside of my closet door so I
see the truth every single day and am forced to remember. I scribble truth into
my journal over and over and over again. I even had the truth inked into my
flesh!
Still, I forget.
The ultimate goal is to take those truths, hanging out in
my head, and pull them way down deep- first to my heart, which they will flood
to overflowing, so that there is absolutely no room for anything other than the
truth; then to my soul, where they will be etched bigger and bolder and clearer
than any of the things I have ever believed before. But then, if the aim is to really
live it, we need to go deeper still, down to the base of my spine, to my core,
my foundation, so that I am anchored by the truth, so that all these things I
need to remember about who I am, and what I can be and see and do, settle
themselves so solidly that my head is pushed up high and my shoulders back and
my heart out, so that I am standing strong and tall- evidence, finally, of my full
and complete ownership of all that is good in me and in my world.
And that is what this story is about.
awesome.
ReplyDeletegood start - blog on!
ReplyDelete"on the inside of my closet door" - indeed - words to live by!
ReplyDelete