December 29, 2015

Here’s to Love.

2015—a wild, wild ride.

2015 broke me apart and broke me open in the most painfully beautiful ways I could have imagined.

In 2015, I lost Pop, my grandfather who always told my partner, “Take good care of her—she’s a special one.”

I lost Kathleen, the woman who made my wedding dress and who often showered me with divine praise.

I lost Hank, an indescribably loving dog, whom I loved with my whole heart.

Each of these beings who ceased to exist in my physical space had shared their love with me freely. Each loss hurt. The cumulative grief was overwhelming—uncontrollable sobbing and releasing and letting go. Every shred of my protective layering crumbled. Through the grieving, I began to open up to and feel the power of vulnerability.

Those weren’t the only changes to my life in 2015.

In 2015, my decision to move out of an unhappy, disconnected relationship solidified. The moments of grief were short-lived through the process. I feel fortunate that the relationship shifted into friendship—I think it lessened the pain. There was no true loss, but rather, a very deep sense of transformation and awareness.

In 2015, my decision to move into a hopeful and heart-full relationship transpired. That decision was laced with excitement, happiness, love and hopefulness. It also held fear, nervousness and doubts about how the world would see me—whether or not the decision was a good one. The “what ifs” came and went and still do.

As a result of those two decisions, I moved into and through a million emotions over and over again.

I disconnected from people.
I reconnected with people.
I felt embraced.
I felt ostracized.
I felt proud of my choices.
I felt deeply ashamed.
I felt entirely brave and strong and sure-footed.
I felt fearful.

There came a beautiful realization that I wasn’t ever alone. The love from my family and my friends—and the love from those who had passed—filled my entire being. I discovered that love was always there. Those moments of being completely full of love were pure magic.

From all of the loss, the changes and transformations—I began learning how to love. I began learning how to invite love in. I began to accept that I am worthy of being loved. That people love me as—me. I began learning how to find openness and how to let my walls stay down.

And just as essential—I began to learn that I have myself to rely on. I was reminded that I am capable. I am resilient. I am strong. I am full. Full of emotions that deserve my attention—the grief, the joy, the fear, the delight. I can learn to love them and to welcome them all.

I can learn how to stay true to myself and to not withdraw into a space of fear. I can learn how to hold compassion and understanding, while not sacrificing myself in the process. I can learn to love myself.

So, here’s to learning and here’s to love.

“Despite what you may believe, you can disappoint people and still be good enough. You can make mistakes and still be capable and talented. You can let people down and still be worthwhile and deserving of love. Everyone has disappointed someone they care about. Everyone messes up, lets people down and makes mistakes. Not because we’re inadequate or inept, but because we’re imperfect and fundamentally human. Expecting anything different is setting yourself up for failure.” ~ Danielle Koepke



You Are Worthy of Love (I Promise).


Author: Rhiannon Kim

Editor: Yoli Ramazzina

Photo: Author’s own.

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Rhiannon Kim