Seven Devils

And now all your love will be exorcised
And we will find you saying it's all better now
And it's an even sum
It's a melody
It's a battle cry
It's a symphony
~ Seven Devils, Florence Welch


This is all a process, this grief. And anyone who has been through it — surrendered to it fully like I have — knows that it's somewhat like exorcising demons from one's body. There are more than one and you don't know exactly what they're gonna look like or when or how they're gonna rear their ugly little heads. Some take over your body — with tears, with physical pain, with true illness and affliction and deep and lasting physical scars. Some take over your mind — with sleeplessness, with memories, with anger and regret, longing, fear and untold sadness. And some infect your very soul — destroying your ability to hope, to love, to trust again and to see those things around you anymore.

For seven months I have battled these seven devils — with constant prayer, meditation, therapy, self-reflection, music, friends, good healing food, exercise, and by surrendering to the process of feeling it all rather than letting those devils breed within me. I will exorcise them. I will win my life back. I will smoke them out. And my heart will be more capable of loving and sharing and trusting than ever before.

I cannot choose the timetable. I cannot choose the highs and the lows, though I battle to keep every inch of ground I gain. I hold tight to each moment of grace that bolsters me through each moment of despair. It is a gift. I am so grateful for the love of friends and family that surrounds me and fills me with hope each day. I have not allowed myself to jump into a romantic relationship — and though I suffer loneliness and bouts of doubt about whether love will ever make an appearance again in my life, I know that so far, I have made the right choices for me. Because I have made each decision with my integrity at the forefront, I trust that the universe has good things in store for me, when the time is right. Something beautiful awaits me...but I must be patient for it.

The sucker-punches still knock me down...with an anniversary, a memory, a chance meeting.....but I will never be afraid again. Because I got up each time a little stronger and a little more ready to strut like an Amazon.

After awhile

After a while you learn
the subtle difference between
holding a hand and chaining a soul
and you learn
that love doesn’t mean leaning
and company doesn’t always mean security.
And you begin to learn
that kisses aren’t contracts
and presents aren’t promises
and you begin to accept your defeats
with your head up and your eyes ahead
with the grace of woman, not the grief of a child
and you learn
to build all your roads on today
because tomorrow’s ground is
too uncertain for plans
and futures have a way of falling down
in mid-flight.
After a while you learn
that even sunshine burns
if you get too much
so you plant your own garden
and decorate your own soul
instead of waiting for someone
to bring you flowers.
And you learn that you really can endure
you really are strong
you really do have worth
and you learn
and you learn
with every goodbye, you learn… 

~ Veronica Shofstall, 1971 


Just one year ago, she wept in arms and made promises that she would never keep, and I built a future around a dream that could never be. While I surrender to my grief, and make peace that I will not find love again, I take comfort in the love of friends and family that surrounds me and the grace that somehow helps me to continue to hold my head up each day. Making lemonade out of a lemon-life, on my own. Or as Alanis Morissette would say, "you lose, you learn."

Walking the dog

A gorgeous day here in Chicago...and I found myself at the dog park. It probably wasn't an accident that I found myself there...maybe I was searching for answers, for closure — hoping that somehow the "connection" that I imagine psychically links lovers would ring out in her heart like the Bat Signal and she'd find herself drawn there too, to find me in all of my despair. Perhaps I only dreamed that connection existed from the very beginning, or I demand too much from the universe. Can one know when their soulmate is in pain, is broken, is crying out? And at what point is that connection severed — if it existed at all? All I know is that I am still, seven months later feeling it, overwhelmed by it even, and it angers me, fills me with sadness and despair, and yes, regret. I know some of this simply has to do with timing...so many of our anniversaries are marked around this time of year...and it weighs heavily on my heart. May I find peace soon, and know that I am loved.

the dreamer's heart

It's Valentine's Day here in the U.S., and ironically, I'm celebrating it more this year as a single girl than I have the last several years while in a committed relationship. But not in the commercial way that is so typical of this Hallmark Holiday. Sure, I'm doing a few nice things for myself today: stopping for a mocha at my favorite cafe, and having a friend over for dinner and movie, but these gestures only bolster what it is that I'm feeling. I'm just simply sharing all of that love that has been welling up inside of my heart these past months — with myself. This last week has been phenomenal; I know a few others who are tapping into the present awareness of dreams right now, and they have brought me deep insight, healing and freedom this week. It's a true grace — the gift of dreams. My dreams are full of deep love: for my children, friends, special people I admire. It is not with any intention or desire  or personal need for reciprocation that I send out this love; I send it out simply because it swells within me every day and I have no choice but to release it, dream it. That is what freedom feels like.

Boomerang

Sometimes the answer comes to you. In all of your brokenness, you must surrender. Take the path of least resistance. I've made the tough decision to move out of my apartment — not something I look forward to, but I need the comfort of family and familiarity right now so that I can heal from the sadness that seems to linger in my heart. Before the butterfly can emerge, first she must spend some time in the cocoon. I've had so much loss this year, my heart still aches and my body is so very weak. I just want to go...home.  I'm going to move back into the old house...fix it up. I've already scheduled a complete kitchen overhaul with new cabinets and a dishwasher and picked out a new sink for the bathroom. The kids will have their old rooms, and I will have mine. Dad will have company and care for his own waning health. With any luck, I will have Little M in a new school, and will not have to see The Nurse around every aching corner.

If I weren't so utterly broken, I might care that some may judge me for being on the verge of 40 and moving back in with my parent, but neither the present economy nor my broken heart affords me such a luxury. Besides, most of the world lives in extended family situation, so I consider this a very cosmopolitan move. Working on this house is what I need...for my soul right now. Because maybe if I return to the root of things, I can learn to let go.

My temple

Times have been tough for me these last few months, there is no doubt.

My body is slowly starting to heal, but left scarred. I hope that the marks that run up and down my legs will fade one day, as I do love my summer skirts. The doctor's were never able to get to the bottom of my illness ... I'm now convinced with the timing of it all that it was stress related. You really can die of a broken heart. The horrible symptoms that have plagued me for nearly 5 months are slowly starting to subside. I'm confident that I will be victorious over this invader within my body.  I will not be broken.

My spirit is also slowly starting to heal. I am sustained by my deep faith, my appreciation for beauty and art, my loving children, family and friends, and my tenacious ability to protect myself from situations and people that disregard my emotional well-being. I'm feeling an even greater need to listen to beautiful music, sing even more, and seek out creative opportunities. Dance. Laugh, cry, and thank God that I've made it this far, and learned what I've learned. I'm also feeling the need to access friendships and let go of people that aren't really in my camp -- and not maliciously -- but just with the recognition that it's okay to let go of people who don't enrich your life in any meaningful way.

My mind continues to heal, as I do the work necessary to let go of the pain of the last 5 months. A deep inner work, a necessary work. The kind of work one must do after ending a long-term relationship badly, but that so many avoid. I have a job that I love and stack of books to read to keep me sharp. For the first time in a long time, I feel the glimmer of hope in the deep space where my heart lays. But I don't want to jinx it, so I won't write more about that just yet.

I am becoming the person I want to be...and I am so deeply grateful.

Creative pursuits

Do you ever have one of those fantastic days where you get a shitload of stuff done before 8am? Today is panning out to be just such a day. After showering, I had lunches made, and tonight's dinner in the crockpot, ready to go. Awesome! But I had also processed some big ideas. I woke up literally yearning for a new creative pursuit, and wanting to write. This blog has become such a personal diary, it's not the kind of place where people really flock to read anything other than glimpses into my psyche or personal spiritual journey. I'm wanting something more, and in a context that will demand more of me. I want to look for  freelance writing gig. Luckily, I have the right connections, and within minutes, I pieced together just who I should contact, and what I might write about and propose to them, and which published samples to send. So, it's all simmering in the crockpot....