Being in Transition

Hello Human Being. This is going to be a different kind of post for me. I don’t know, as I open this entry, if I will have a positive message to glean from this situation, but I want to speak on a personal level, in hopes I can work out some of the dark spaces in my heart.

I have spoken a bit in previous entries about being able to move with the currents of life (here), and also about how to make the most of each day in a season known for it’s transitory and life-bringing nature (here). What I have not really delved into at any sort of length, is how to make your way through a transition that really shakes up your foundation?

That is, how do you move gracefully, when your root chakra is screaming and your heart chakra is threatening to close completely? How do you resist the urge to flee? How do you resist the urge to close your heart to love?

How do you deal with the loss of a friendship? Or 2? 3? 4?

So listen, guys. Things are not all rainbows here. I never really claimed that they were, but I’ve also tried to remain relatively positive in my previous entries, and at times felt a little inauthentic for it. It’s not that I didn’t believe the words I wrote, it’s just that sometimes my mood is not aligned well with the content of the message.

I brood a lot. I think even more. And at present I’ve had a lot to think about. The entire foundation of a few of my friendships is changing before my eyes, and I feel like I am helpless to stop it. This transition, has been going on for nine months or more. Like a slow growing cancer, that has eroded away at the heart of our friendships, leaving only the disappointments, the harsh words spoken, the negative actions, the brush off. The source of the problem would be different, depending on the person you ask, so I won’t go into that part of it. A difference of opinions, has indeed contributed, throughout this slow death.

And here I sit, the girl with the penchant for nostalgia, raising the white flag again and again and again in surrender, pining for something that will never be again, and sadly, maybe never really was. Here I am, gripping onto the edge of a sinking ship in shallow water. 

But listen- when I wrote last week about dealing with disappointment (here), I talked a little bit about how to keep moving forward and how to make the most out of an icky situation. In short, you do what you can do, with the best intentions in mind, and then you move on with positive proactive efforts to stay present. And in this situation I’ve already done the forgiveness thing, I’ve done the apologetic thing, and I’ve done the reflection thing. My heart and my mind are pointing in the same direction: AWAY. Yet I keep putting myself in positions, hoping to see that some thread of what once was, might still be there. That our friendships could be what they once were. The problem is, too many things have happened, too much time has passed, and too many words have been spoken that can’t be taken back. And now, I am sitting here after another one of those encounters, resisting the urge to shut down, and resisting the urge to let my heart grow darker. Harder. Scarred.

And suddenly I am reminded of my husband’s words last night, as I laid in bed with tear-stained cheeks and swollen eyes, having just exclaimed that “no one sees me anymore”. He said,

You are a beam of light to those who choose to see it. I see it. Our families see it. Our true friends see it. You need to shine for those who see you.

I don’t think he knows just how much those words meant to me, and how much they will contribute to the healing of my battered heart, and the nourishing of my tired soul. His steadfast strength and support is helping to lead me out of this darkened place.

So today, Easter Sunday, I am taking my own advice, as I wade through the murk of disappointment. I am moving away from the situation, and opening up space in my heart for those that love me. I am going to spend the day nourishing my heart and soul with the love of a family that is as strong and supportive as any family I know. I am going to nourish my body with foods that gladden my taste buds and belly. I am going to soak up the sun and enjoy the little moments that make me smile.

Because in truth, I could stay in bed and wallow. I could crumble into a heap and let my negative emotions overcome me.  I could let the tears rain down for hours, as I sit with the loss of friendship, the loss of a major part of my support system, and the loss of a bit of my identity. But really, I don’t want to do any of these things. I don’t want to revel in self-pity. I don’t want to think about the situation anymore. I don’t want to perpetuate any further bullshit, or taxes on my psyche.

Life is always in flux. We are always transitioning. Some changes are small. Others shake the ground, shifting it, and diverting paths emerge. Suddenly my path is not theirs, and theirs is not mine. And that’s ok. This will happen again and again. We are never not broken.

We are never not healing, and growing, and changing.
But we are always beings of light.
We can choose to beam out or to be shrouded in blackness.
We can always choose to hide or choose to rise.
We can let ourselves be dragged down the wrong path.

But you know, I’d prefer to walk my own.



4 thoughts on “Being in Transition

    • Indeed it is. I’ve never been good at letting go. However, I am learning that sometimes it is the only way.Damn those ties that bind! ;)

      And yes, my husband is very wise! He’s been down this road a few times himself and emerged a better person for the way he chose to handle it.

      I don’t even think he realizes it sometimes, but he’ll drop these little “truth-bombs” every once in awhile that set my mind spinning. He can say just a few words, and I’ll find myself completely reorganizing the way I was thinking about the situation. I am so appreciative of how he can help me find a more positive perspective.

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