The Long and Winding Road of Letting Go
At some point or many in our lives, we find ourselves deep in transition between a life of predictability and one of chaos. I've been there, sometimes I still enter this threshold.
I know deeply how to embrace the underworld of wisdom so as to rise one day, back into a life of flourishing and radiance.
But my dear friends, the underground is where the roots grow strong and the seeds lay dormant, so feel the fear.
Get to know that shadowy side that you keep hidden so well and surround yourself with the support to move through rather than abandon yourself once more.
I want to share with you a piece that I wrote while in the midst of reclaiming my own power. It's deep and personal, and I am sharing it in solidarity so that others might realize our common struggles and the truth that, often, we teach what we most need or want to learn...
The Heart-break Pathway
Sometimes I run to find the public bathroom or a corner to turn so I can let the sobbing release. Sometimes I barely make it to a place to fall apart. Sometimes, I don't make it at all. I get the all knowing glances from people from time to time when the gates open and I have nowhere to hide. Their eyes empathically connect with mine and reveal they have been here, too. The choking begins, the fire ignites up through my belly and the tears begin to fall endlessly to help squelch the fiery grief that is coming up while my tears are raining down.
This is probably one of the most emotionally infused moments I have ever had in my life next to birthing my amazing daughter. What does that say about this deep unraveling? Is it that this birth too is just as life changing as the birthing of my daughter? I hope so; I really hope so.
The searing pain is so exquisite at times that I can't see anything but oceans of disappointment through my eyes. The salt burns, and waves knock me down and sometimes they even hold me down in their swift undertow. I can't figure out which way is up. In these moments, I feel tossed by the whim of the waves, grasping for oxygen as I claw through the powerful force of grief that seems as if it will forever hold me down.
I honestly ask myself sometimes, how long can I endure this? And then sometimes I remember to surrender, to collapse and give that little red headed girl within a hug. I hold her tight and let her know that I am here now and I will never abandon her again. She doesn't quite trust me yet, but I console her long enough for her to gasp some air and reach for the surface again until the next swell.
For now, I breath. I am holding my head above the water. My legs are still swishing about trying to find solid ground to steady myself, but alas the nature of the changing sandy bottom is elusive. Just as I feel a place to land, it's washed away.
Just like that.
Such is the nature of life, I am learning. So I tread water as best I can, and keep my head above water all the while strengthening myself in the resistance. It's ok to resist, the lesson will just keep presenting itself through your resistance until one day you say; aha, this is no good for me. In fact, this has never been good for me.
And then you let go. No more resistance. It just fades and washes away like old, stubborn paint stains. Water cleanses the layers of muck- those colors and layers of hurt that over time have mixed together to create shit brown! But soon, the water runs clear, making way for a fresh pallet to present itself. Now I can slowly examine the colors and carefully inquire within if this is how I choose to begin the masterpiece all over again. And thoughtfully, I trust how to move forward and create the best damn foundation for the house I will occupy with my newfound heart.
I coach women in times of transition and if you've recently know this place of heart-ache or are there right now, I encourage you to be in touch for a 30 minute complimentary session. I'm here to guide you through your transformative journey into the underworld and re-emerge with deep wisdom and connection as you move into a new chapter of your life. It's possible, and when done with vulnerability and intention, you can learn to not just swim, but sail.