There are waves, moments, periods of time when I feel good.
Really good. Like my old self is washing over me, like protection and freedom and embracing me, simultaneously. I feel a warmth in my belly like everything I need is in there, supporting me.
All the love I’ve ever dreamed of is already there.
And then, there are moments when I feel so completely lost, like I’m just floating through space, all drive and focus and motivation straight out the fucking window. Like I forget why I’ve made this monumental decision, this enormous life change.
I feel like I’m just drifting, like I have so many times before…but this time is different. So utterly different.
This time, I’m choosing freedom and expansion; I’m choosing to walk my walk and forge forward onto new, unforeseen outcomes and futures. Nothing is certain, and I almost like that…the element of surprise, spontaneity, the complete unknown, which can be absolutely horrifying and exhilarating.
I’m choosing exhilarating for this new adventure…
I have to—because when these crossroads are met and decisions are made, what more can you think of than the next leg of this epic adventure? I’ve spent so much time lost in my own head, lost in other people and other energies that to even fathom going back there just isn’t an option. This time it’s different because I’m different. And I’ve got a whole new set of aspirations and goals to work towards, even if I can’t seem to move away from this position, from typing these words.
It’s a miracle I’m writing at all, because the way I typically roll through chaos and pain is to avoid, escape and shut down. The time that I need to write the most is typically the time I shy away from it, and I’ve often wondered why that is.
The one thing I know that will bring me peace and clarity is the thing I avoid like the plague.
But not this time, because I’m no longer afraid of what the words are going to tell me. I never know what’s going to come out when I sit down and start to give myself over to whatever process this is that takes place, but I do know that this process is exactly what’s enabled me to get to where I am right now, and even though I’m going through one of the most difficult, heartbreaking situations I’ve ever endured.
I got here because I started to listen to myself, to tune in and to allow myself to do what I do best. Then, and only then, did the real me come out. And I know this process is exactly what’s going to continue to get me through this transition, and I know that the transformation I’m undergoing right now is the most powerful I’ve ever been through.
The ability to write, create, express, communicate and share—in whatever medium that resonates best with you—is the most powerful way to not only tap into your truth, but to take that next step and carry it out, no matter how difficult or impossible it seems, and—as much as I hate to say this—no matter who you’re afraid of hurting along the way.
It all boils down to what makes you happy, what fulfills you and makes you glow. What turns your power on. What inspires you to exude radiance and light. Whatever creates that warmth in your belly and that spark in your heart’s mind deserves attention and action.
The more you deny it or try to convince yourself that you don’t need it, or don’t deserve it, or are completely happy and content with what you have and where you’re at and who you’re with when you’re not, the deeper and deeper you dig that hole of deceit—and the longer you continue to lie not only to yourself, but to the ones you love.
We all know how much easier it is to do something for someone else before doing it for ourselves, and that’s something I still struggle with. But this change, this transition, is my first step in doing for me, first and foremost.
And why is that so important? And why is that the exact opposite of selfish? Because the more you lie to yourself and remain in a state of denial, the more of a shadow of yourself you become. You can’t give fully or love fully when you’re not fully yourself. And if you’re not fully yourself, you’re not fully living for yourself, and if you’re not the center of your life, then what’s the point? Everything suffers—you, your friends, your family, your spouse, your children.
Everything that’s important to you loses the love and luster that it deserves.
Love yourself first so that you can wholeheartedly love and give to those around you.
One of the greatest adult lessons I’ve learned recently is that love—true, healthy love—doesn’t die. It changes. It changes and morphs and grows, and the pain we go through in the beginning of any breakup or separation can go one of two ways: it can develop into something different, possibly even something deeper on a completely different level, or it can fade away entirely. But it never dies.
Love is such a strong, potent energy that the idea of it disappearing or fizzling away just seems completely nonsensical. It may never be the same, but something of it still exists, somewhere…and even in release and surrender and separation, that energy never leaves our lives, no matter what form it takes or fades into.
Love doesn’t have to be a battlefield.
We can choose to be soldiers, fighting and screaming to hold our ground, to hold onto our keep; or we can choose to be warriors, forging forward with the wind at our backs, honoring and respecting all that has come before and all that is on the horizon.
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Ed: Bryonie Wise