Driving to my favourite coffee spot to do some writing work, I was feeling good. Grounded. Stable. After some more tender, rough periods where the waves of emotion come in, I have found again a sense of grounding and balance.
I also know now not to be attached to this state where I feel this blissful feeling of acceptance and strength. As it's still fresh that my heart has been hurt, I know that waves of emotion will come through. Especially in moments I don't expect it. I'm learning to be in them, and watch them, and flow in them.
Though it's not all grace and ease. They're uncomfortable, they hurt, they pain my physical body. I'm not claiming at all that I am floating through this period like an ethereal enlightened being. Not at all. Though through being in the thick of it, reaching out for support from my loved ones, receiving their love and advice, and then doing self-care practices that really ground me, that is where the grace of it found. That is where I feel right in how I'm moving through this.
So I was enjoying this state of flow (listening to Alan Watts' incredible words mixed with inspiring music). I arrived to the cafe, walked up the stairs, checked out the area that I love to sit in outside to see if there were seats... and then, the sting.
The sharp pain that penetrated my heart in that moment caught me off guard.
Seeing him, and my friend. What a mix of feels.
LOVE, of course. Love and comfort as both of their presence in my life has been incredibly beautiful. AND heartbreak, sadness, rejection, loneliness, insecurity, feeling small, forgotten... and honestly a great deal more emotions all at the same time.
And my body - it shook. Small tingles turning to shaking. Heat rising into my throat and my face. My feet in that first moment, lost their grounding completely. I was floating two feet from the floor - not in a nice way. In a way where I could float off at any moment, into the abyss, to be taken away completely.
We hugged, said hello, some small talk, and my heart just wanted to run away. Hide. 'I can't do this' it said. 'This is too much... it hurts too much.'
And the interesting and paradoxical thing here is that my deeper, core knowing is that this is exactly perfect. That this moment, speaking to my love turned ex-partner, and my dear friend, is the only way it could be. And that actually, I know that I cannot be in that relationship anymore. That it is not what the universe (and my soul, as messenger of the universe) has planned. That this whole process is something that I know I will be deeply grateful for, and look back at with appreciation for the learnings, and the opening to be able to accept in and create the life that I am completely in love with.
This knowing is there, anchored in, and when I return to it (like right now as I am writing), my body relaxes into a loving, warm, comforted, beautiful feeling.
But my heart, she doesn't understand this knowing in her fresh hurt. She doesn't understand that it is not the same as 2 months ago when life looked very different, and this interaction would have been very different. She doesn't know that her yearning for this lost love, is part of her grief and attachment to a time past. She doesn't understand yet this core knowing that my body feels. Not when she feels the sting. The hurt. It's all pervading in those moments, and she loses herself. Her grounding.
As I'm sitting here, typing this 30 minutes after this event happened, I have been offering her sweet, tender energy to let her know it's ok.
The first thing I did when I found a seat inside after I spoke with them, was sit down, ground my feel, close my eyes, and allow my body to feel.
I sat in stillness, heard all of the sounds of the people and life around me, and let in what I needed to feel. I validated her feelings. I let her hurt, without making her wrong.
Silent, gentle tears streamed down my face, gently dropping onto my lap, carving a path along my lips. I let her cry. Because she was sad - is sad - and I couldn't expect her to feel any different.
And then, eyes open, I breathed deeply, and began what I had come here to do. Write. Though not the freelance article on toxic ingredients in skincare that is waiting for me to start. This. I wrote this.
This expression is invaluable for my feeling through, and making sense of, this journey. And although there is a GREAT DEAL more that I write and express in my personal journal - reserved for my eyes and my heart only - there are times when I know that sharing this process, these words, these feels, is right. Not only to be seen. But to offer you some insight into these parts of ourselves that are one. That feel hurt. That know 'better', but still feel. That are trying to make sense of pain. Heartbreak. That are navigating through difficult situations. That want to express, but don't know how. That may feel shame in being candid. That are scared to step out and be vulnerable in saying 'this is me, I feel this, it's ok.'
I've been reminded, by some trusted loved ones, to ask myself why I share. To be sure it is coming from a place deep in my heart, and not out of a need to receive attention and validation. I love this.
Right now, I am not writing to receive support and love and validation. I don't reject that either, as support is something I do actively reach out for in the cloudy moments. Though I am writing this to share in honest love.
I feel my feet now closer to the earth. I feel my steadiness return. I feel my love ripple through me. I know there will be more stings that I'll feel. I know how to feel them. I know that it's hard, and that it hurts. That sometimes I'll be cloudy for a little while, and take some time to return to my spirit's knowing.
And still, I know.
My spirit whispers to me...
'This is for you, my love. These challenges, these learnings, they are all for you. This initiation into your true self, full expression, hearts tenderness, wise understandings... this process is for you. Because what's waiting for you, dear goddess, is something so divine that is all that you deserve, and more.'
I hear her.
I feel her.