Where do I go from here?

That was my question for months. My equilibrium was severely whacked and I was in a free fall that seemed to rip away any sense of control over my life. Where was I headed? Everything outside of me hurt, everything. Places, people, my home, my own image staring back at me in the bathroom mirror, especially that.....it said "Loser"! With so much outward pain I had no where else to run but inside my own life. I had always closed up when things hurt me before, it was my natural defense mechanism learned long ago from parents who were completely emotionally bankrupt. And I learned well indeed, and I held onto it as part of my identity. But this time when I went inside myself it was to seek asylum, and then once in my own head I wanted back out again. So, I was stuck with me, no way around it. I didn't like myself very much. I had become the woman I had scoffed at for years. The stay-at-home mom, the one who gives up her life, her vision. her ideas, all for the greater good of the family. (Now I am not knocking motherhood, NO! It's the toughest and most rewarding job I know of.....and I do it everyday. But now it's with simple joy....but more on that later).

I knew the time had come for me to ask the proverbial question....."Who am I"? What I discovered was a half girl/half woman lurking inside, trembling. I took her hand, I told her I had neglected her long enough, I told her I loved her, and in a way that no human being ever had before, or ever would again. She stopped shaking. After three months of total denial and terror, I solidly set my foot on the path towards wholeness. A very good therapist told me that I was what I was waiting for all these years. Ha! It was me all along? Who knew? Surely not I, because I entertained the thought that happiness was "out there" somewhere. Yet, and I must admit, that notion never felt quite right either. There was a nagging feeling that I held my own key to my own life, that it wasn't what other people in my orbit did or didn't do that guaranteed my peace of mind, or my fullfillment, or my sense of self. No, it was me all along. This was both empowering and terrifying at the same time. It meant I had to stop blaming, I had to look at myself in the blazing light of day, warts and all, and gently begin all over again....on dry, fragile ground. Ground that bore no beauty, ground that was infertile for too long, ground that was shaky. Thus I began to write down everything I had ever hoped for in my life. It took three days but I got it all out, some of it had long been forgotten, but it flooded back to me when I started writing. And this, my friends, is where I learned to rediscover my passions....on paper, in the stillness of my bedroom, and many times in the middle of the night when sleep wouldn't come. My dreams flowed from my pen, not some imitation of someone else's life, but my true callings. This is not a selfish act, this reacquainting oneself with your heart's desire, this is a self-nurturing love that is too easily forgotten....and one that will water your dry ground with new life.

What calls to you? What stirs your very being in the middle of the day for no apparent reason, what stops you dead in your tracks and whispers..."hey, remember"? Write it down....

Until tomorrow....blessings upon your heart

Cindy

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