White Hot Truth maven Danielle LaPorte–who I am eternally grateful to for helping me create this incredible, freeing, loving life I’m now living–once wrote a post about how to blog. She recommended we hold off on writing about the shite we go through until after the fact. I think she might have even used the phrase “Pull your pants up.” She suggested we only do it if we can come at it with some insights, something of use to share to our readers. I agree with her.
I just can’t do it today. Because today I’m still processing. Today I’m still mourning. And I have no interest in involving other people, outside my intimate circle of close friends and family, in my inner drama. But I have to write, and I can’t get anything else to come out.
When a relationship ends, it’s like a death. And we can all acknowledge that it’s a part of life, that it’s not unusual, that it happens all the time, all over the world. But that doesn’t negate the pain.
I guess I’m hoping that since this experience is so universal–broken hearted, sobbing on the bed, head-ache in your head–that simply sharing my experience of it will maybe be useful enough.
Here’s what I know for sure.
I have loved. Like never before. Like no one before. I have kept on opening wider my own heart, and giving despite not knowing, and that experience was more uplifiting than any love I have ever received. Now, I know it’s true. Love is giving.
I have been challenged. I have grown. Yogis, seekers, healers, spiritual gurus: They all tell us we will bring into our life people who will force us to face our own judgements, our own closed places. Because of these people, we will have to open those places up, air them out, and deal with the junk we’d jammed behind the door and forgotten about. I have cleared.
I see the other side. They also say we attract people who mirror us. I have never met anyone so like me in so many incredibly fundamental ways. I saw that being with him was like being in a relationship with myself. I was shown how it has been for other people who have loved me. I understand now.
I am no longer enamoured with grand gestures. They are wonderful. But it’s the un-intended things that really count. It’s the silence in the car. The occasional bickering. It’s the truth that’s gently spoken, rather than tucked away. It’s the things that only happen between two people who are certain the other loves them, and won’t run when things get uncomfortable.
I am going to continue to open my heart. I am going to continue to give love. No matter what.