The Fine Line Between a Broken Heart and a Bruised Ego

Recently a short, but crazy intense romantic relationship of mine came to an abrupt end. I didn't end it, he did, because he had a Christmas reconciliation with his ex girlfriend. And he ended it by sending me an email explaining the situation.

Regardless of what I sometimes say, I have this very deep seated belief that things will inevitably work out. I trust too much and fall too quickly. I don't fall for every man who pays attention to me, it's usually the opposite and I tend to be the one that pushes them away. But when I set my eye on someone and it's a mutual attraction - BAM!! That's it, I've already jumped in with both feet and sunk waist deep into the thick of it.

When I met this new man I accepted the offer of a first date not really knowing how interested I was in him, but it had been forever since I'd been on a real date and he was polite and kind. On the date I discovered that he was different. I mean drastically different. He asked me questions that had no right or wrong answer but required a lot of thought. He was interested in what I had to say, and he didn't mind my quirks, presumably because he had his own. In short, he intrigued the hell out of me. I made a conscious effort not to project my biases from my past failed romantic experiences into him. I made another conscious decision to be my most authentic self instead of twisting myself to be accepted by this man. We had some wonderful experiences together. He took me places I'd never been, introduced me to foods I'd never eaten, and generally guided me to new experiences I may not have sought out  on my own.

Needless to say, when he ended it, it hurt. My first reaction was the whole anger/hurt/crying thing. I was hurt that he broke up with me by email. I was angry that I had even invested time into this person. And I was super pissed that he had chosen someone else over me.

When I stopped my internal tirade long enough to take a step back and look at the situation I discovered something. My ego was hurt. Yes I was upset over the loss of this person, but was I in love? My heart said, "No but we really liked him and he sure was fun!", then my ego piped up, "Ahhh but you could have been. You just needed more time and he could have loved you." I think lots of times it's the unexpected that hurts the most in life. That big surprise. That, "FUCK, I didn't see that coming!!" moment that makes us feel incapable of navigating our way through our own life, and leaves us with that dread feeling of uncertainty in our own judgement. Such as, did I expect him to get back together with his ex girlfriend? I can honestly say I didn't fucking see THAT coming. And then the self doubt started. Did I cry myself to sleep? Most definitely. Was I angry? At first, until an über awesome friend reminded me that this had nothing to do with me, or whether or not I was worthy of love. She then told me to give myself a definite timeline to grieve and just work on it, go head to head with it, get intimate with it, and write the fuck out of it instead of hiding it as people often do. She told me grieve and then just let it go. That's the best advice I've ever gotten, and it's been working for me.

As I became more introspective about the situation, I realized that I couldn't fault him for taking a second chance that was given to him by someone he loves. Wouldn't anyone of us do the same thing? Wouldn't we reconcile with someone that we love....someone who feels like home? "Seek first to understand and then to be understood" came into my head as I puzzled the situation out. I sought to understand his actions. His path and mine were simply not the same path, but it was wonderful to walk down it together even for that short while.

It felt fantastically liberating to be able to be myself and act freely with him as though I'd never been hurt in the past. I wish him much love and light in his journey. I learned a lot from him and I'm happy that we met.

Forgive Me Humanity, For I Have Sinned

 

 

A couple of months ago I sat back and took a really close look at my life. I'm talking about a microscopic dissection of everything I thought I knew about myself. I was intensely aware that I had made a powerful transformation within the last two years. I recognized that I had helped people deal with their life issues, not from guessing but from the comments and emails I had received with expressions of love and gratitude. The truth is, I never set out to help anyone, I never set out to inspire anyone, and I sure as hell never wanted anyone to look to me for anything. I just wanted to save myself from myself. I just needed to stop myself from self destructing with my disparaging thoughts. Fortunately with some fantastic guidance and some crazy self awareness, I was able to do just that. However even with most of my disadventageous behaviours under control something still felt really unsettled within me, and one day everything got bad. It actually got worse than it ever had before, to the point where it was difficult for me to function. I had nothing to do but think because it was hard for me to do anything else in the state I was in. In the self evaluation that was constantly running through my head I came to the conclusion that although the past is the unchangeable  past, making amends for the wrongs I had committed and the hurts I had caused could neutralize a lot of the pain I was still carrying.

 

So I thought of the people I perceived that I had hurt the most, or had the most drama with, in the years gone by. I sent apologies to those people (the ones I could find anyway), even if I felt I had gotten more hurt in the relationship than they had, and I took responsibility for my actions. I made no excuses for any of my behaviours. I didn't want to cheapen my apology with an excuse. I simply said a very heartfelt sorry. I said I was sorry to those I had been friends with and those I had been lovers with. Some of the biggest apologies I wanted to make were to people who had already passed on from this life to the next, and so I said those ones silently, within my own heart. I received an overwhelmingly beautiful collection of responses from nearly all of the recipients. The majority of people welcomed my apology with open arms, some people said they had no idea what I was talking about and hadn't felt slighted by me in the least, and two people did not answer my apology at all. Those that had not felt an apology was necessary made me feel incredibly sad because I had spent, in some cases, 20 years carrying unnecessary burdens from what I perceived as huge evils that I had committed when in reality those were merely made up stories I had generated myself. Regardless of the reaction I received, my heart felt wildly emancipated to know I had reached out to another person and attempted to make amends for any suffering I had caused.

 

After that, I felt lighter somehow. Pardon the shitty cliche, but it really did feel as though a huge weight had been lifted from me. So many feelings that I had been carrying with me on my journey were shed and left by the roadside. Maybe even more importantly than asking for forgiveness from others, I forgave myself for my sins. I forgave myself for hating those who hurt me. I forgave myself for not knowing what I didn't know before I learned it, realizing I had beat myself up for years for thinking I should have "known better" in a situation I had never encountered before. I forgave myself for making poor choices at times when I was just doing the best I knew how. I forgave myself for feeling guilty for not living up to other people's expectations when I should have blocked out the opinions of others and concentrated on what I wanted for me. I forgave myself for putting expectations on others when my desires shouldn't play any part in the lives of others at all. I forgave myself for letting guilt and insecurity eat me up inside until I thought I wasn't worthy of love or life. My updated Facebook status a few days after I unpacked all of this baggage reflected my feelings:

 



"Two weeks ago I had the worst day. Ever. Nothing happened to make it the worst day ever, it just was. It felt like everything was completely and unbearably wrong.

A week and a half ago I decided to start unloading the baggage I had been carrying around. Some of the things I unloaded, I had been internalizing for 20 years. I asked for forgiveness from others and forgave myself.

A week ago I saw a picture that said, "No matter what....I will continue to live from the centre of my wide open heart". I decided to do that, to open my heart back up when I interacted with all others. To put myself out there and not hold myself back.

Half a week ago I read a crazy powerful poem entitled She Let Go. I read it over and over again. And then I simply let go.

Now everything is different, but it's not. The same day to day issues are still there, but I am different. I feel so much more at peace, and that makes all the difference."

 

I discovered it is not worth it to live with the guilt of my prior actions, especially if I am able to heal it in some way. I discovered it's ok not to have all the answers first in order to move on. Hell, sometimes I don't even know the questions. Putting my ego aside and putting myself out wholeheartedly to people was the best decision I could have possibly made for myself at that point in my life. Interestingly, a few weeks ago I received a message from an old friend who I hadn't had contact with for many years, and had reconnected with fairly recently on Facebook. She said she could relate to my blog posts and that she had her own sadness, insecurities and regrets....and that she was sorry for being a bad friend. And I honestly had no idea why she felt she needed to apologize to me, and I told her that all I had were good memories of her. I hope at that point she was able to release those guilt feelings she had been carrying around and feel a bit freer within her heart as well.

 

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The poem that changed the way I thought of letting go:

 

She Let Go

She let go. Without a thought or a word, she let go. She let go of the fear. She let go of the judgements. She let go of the confluence of opinions swarming around her head. She let go of the committee of indecision within her. She let go of all the "right" reasons. Wholly and completely, without hesitation or worry,
she just let go.

She didn't ask anyone for advice. She didn't read a book on how to let go. She didn't read the scriptures. She just let go. She let go of all the memories that held her back. She let go of all of the anxiety that kept her from moving forward. She let go of the planning and all the calculations about how to do it just right.
She just let go.

She didn't promise to let go. She didn't journal about it. She didn't write the projected date in her Day-Timer. She made no public announcement and put no ad in the paper. She didn't check the weather report or read her daily horoscope.
She just let go.

She didn't analyze whether she should let go. She didn't call her friends to discuss the matter. She just let go. She didn't do a five-step Spiritual Mind Treatment. She didn't call the prayer line. She didn't utter one word.
She just let go.

No one was around when it happened. There was no applause or congratulations. No one thanked her or praised her. No one noticed a thing. Like a leaf falling from a tree,
she just let go.

There was no effort. There was no struggle. It wasn't good and it wasn't bad. It was what it was, and it is just that.

In the space of letting go, she let it all be. A small smile came over her face. A light breeze blew through her.
And the sun and the moon shone forever more.

~Safire Rose

Everything I've Ever Let Go of has Claw Marks on It

 

Yes, I knew the minute I read his words that David Foster Wallace understood me, because this phrase rang so true, everything I have ever let go of has claw marks on it. Everything. I hold on so tight that my knuckles are white and my hands go numb. When I find something I love I close my eyes and jump in, completely immersing myself in it, and when it's over it is the end of my world at that time. When it is over it feels as though nothing could ever be right again. At that moment nothing is visible but the ending, solid and unyielding as a wall, blocking out new hope. The fresh beginning  that my brain knows is there cannot be visualized. The ache in my heart becomes so big that it blocks it out, and I simply can't find that beginning. It's nowhere in sight. I've tried to figure out why this is, why I can't let go when it's obviously time for me to gracefully let something exit my life. Is it because I have low self esteem, or because I don't feel that anyone else will find me worthy again? This is a point I've pondered for a long time, examining my thoughts and intentions, but it did not feel true within me.

 

This is a world where I have been told over and over: Just let it go. How incredibly easy everyone makes it sound. Just let it go! Hey, why don't I just let it go?? So when someone exits my life, or when a chapter comes to an end and I'm not ready for it...when I was blindsided because I didn't even fucking see it coming...I should be able to smile, give a little wave and be on my way without another thought. Easy peasy! Why didn't I think of that? Except that it's not easy, it's fucking hard. And surprise, I am a human with actual emotions. I have been told by someone I love, someone that exited from my life without a thought, that I can choose my emotions. I can choose whether I love someone or not, whether I miss someone or not, whether I cling to someone or not. I can honestly understand and accept that theory to a point, but when emotions are fresh and raw they just come as they are in all their nakedness, unwilling to cover themselves.

 

All of life is an act of letting go, but what hurts the most

is not taking a moment to say goodbye."

~Life of Pi

 

It comes down to this. For all of the well meaning advice from people to just let go, sometimes it is necessary to take a minute to say goodbye. My goodbyes consist of wallowing in my own misery and a large helping of self indulgent self pity. I listen to the songs that make the core of me ache fiercely, and cry into my pillow. I write letters pouring out my heart, soul, hurt and anger, and then don't send them. Thankfully this doesn't last forever, but since no one wants to see this it can only be done at certain times. The outpouring of raw sentiment makes people uncomfortable so I must do these things in private where no one can see or hear it. Since I almost never have private time, my healing takes a long time. It encumbers me for weeks or even months. I've often wondered if the dragging on of this is detrimental to me, and I can only be certain that the not being aware of and not managing my emotions at all is much, much worse. Not dealing with it makes it jump back out and bite me in the ass at the least opportune times, because those unresolved emotions don't disappear. Those agonizing feelings over things I was passionate about will come back over and over until I acknowledge them in the way that they feel honours them. Those emotions are a needy, greedy horde only tamed by time and intimate, thorough recognition like a long, slow French kiss.

 

"The feelings that hurt most, the emotions that sting most,

are those that are absurd - The longing for impossible things,

precisely because they are impossible; nostalgia for what never

was; the desire for what could have been; regret over not being

someone else; dissatisfaction with the world's existence;

All these half-tones of the soul's consciousness create

in us a painful landscape, an eternal sunset

of what we are."

~Fernando Pessoa

 

 

And so I grieve. I grieve for what could have been, and for the way I had envisioned the romanticized scenario of my life. I mourn for the love that I lost, and for the way I wished I had been loved but wasn't. I will continue to grieve until, instead of being a scream in my face, the throbbing pain evolves into a sweet, soothing ache that is nothing more than background noise. I will grieve because my feelings are valid and they have a reason and a place in my life. Sorrow takes as long as it takes to resolve, and I will not rush mine. I will savour it and taste it's bitterness until it is appeased and I can put it away forever. I was once told let the strong part of me protect the broken part of me until that broken part is healed. And so for now I will let the strong part of myself write my life until my brokenness heals. And that takes as long as it takes.

Back From the Brink: Heartbreak and Healing

 

 

"You can't make homes out of human beings

Someone should have already told you that."

~Warsan Shire

I had originally written this story for a contest. The rules of the contest were that the story had to be written by a female, had to be a real life experience, and had to do with nature. Of course, being as attentive as I was, I missed the deadline by a month. I kept this story private, as it is so emotionally raw, and so important to me. Today I took inventory and saw how far I really had come, and wanted to share this with other people. This is not only to show that it is possible to heal, but that sometimes we hurt more than other people think we should, and that sometimes we take longer to heal than they think we should. Everyone's feelings are valid, no matter what others think they should be, and the healing process takes as long as it takes. Sending much love and light to anyone on such a journey at this time <3

 

 

 

I woke up extra early to pack and prepare for the day I had planned. I got out my gym bag and stuck some granola bars and a couple of peanut butter and jam sandwiches in it, along with my wallet and a water bottle. As I headed toward the front door I stopped to grab my camelback off of a hook in the hallway. The camelback being a bladder of water that could be carried like a small backpack, had extra compartments for food and keys as well. I wanted to be totally equipped because I planned on being out hiking for a few hours. A recent article said that not only exercise, but also being outdoors in nature, had the power to elevate one's mood. Armed with this new information, I thought a hike at Scout Valley might be exactly what I needed. Scout Valley is a 230 acre piece of land on the outskirts of the city I live in, vastly forested and containing many hiking trails. I had been there often in the past, but had not visited it in recent months. Then again, I hadn’t visited much of any place in recent months. I had been feeling disillusioned and bitter lately, but I guess a broken heart will do that to you. It had been six months since I had initially felt that heartbreak, and was finding it agonizingly difficult to move on from it. A good friend suggested that I write emails to myself and put them away in a file, so that when I went back to them I could see how much I had healed, and how far I had come since the day I wrote them. In six months I hadn’t seen much improvement in myself. I still laid in bed for longer than necessary, finally forcing myself to get up for the day by the time most people had already accomplished most of their to-do list. It felt as though I no longer had any worth. Sometimes at night I wondered if I would have to go to the hospital due to my sorrow, because when I thought of him I cried with such force and grief, and the physical pain in my chest was so great, that I felt like I couldn’t breathe. At those lonely, quiet times in the night, I literally didn’t know how I was going to live. It wasn’t because I wanted to die, but because I did not comprehend how the sadness in my body could be bearable. I simply didn’t know how to go on. It was then I knew I had to make myself get up. Feeling that way wasn’t an option anymore, but making the change was a challenge.

It took a true effort to make sure the kids got ready for the day. I dropped them off at school a bit early, and then drove directly over to the hiking trail. As I pulled in to the small dirt parking lot, which was surrounded on three sides by forested areas, I instantly felt a calming sensation in the atmosphere. As I exited my vehicle and began walking toward the opening of my very favourite trail, I felt a slight chill in the morning air. It wasn't the harsh chill you feel when you can see your breath, but it was just cool enough that you wondered if you should have brought a sweater. The coolness that enveloped me made me more aware of the air on every inch of my skin, and made me feel more alive than I had in months. The ascent of the trail was densely treed, and if it had rained right then their branches would ensure I'd hardly get a drop on me. It was shady and fresh walking through there, and I felt safe and hidden amongst their branches.

My breath became ragged as I hiked to the top of the trail and continued on to where it led out of the grove of trees and into a large clearing. Once I was out in the open, I stopped and turned my face up toward the sunlight. It felt good and warm on my skin, and banished any earlier regrets there had been about not wearing extra layers of clothing for the hike. With my eyes closed I could see the light illuminating red behind my eyelids. I didn't move for a long time. I just stood there feeling the sun's amazing warmth radiate over my entire body, completely aware of how incredibly uninhibited I felt at that moment. It felt as if I were floating even though my feet were firmly planted on the ground. I stood there for what felt like an eternity, and when my eyes finally opened several minutes had passed.

I continued with a brisk walk along my chosen path, and soon after broke into a run. I ran as fast possible on the alternating rocky and sandy areas of the trail, twisting my ankle slightly or becoming off balance at times, but I felt wild and free. No other people were there, and the solitude was both overwhelming and therapeutic. I looked to my right as I came to a fork in the trail, and set far back saw a stream with a bridge that I had never noticed before. I suddenly felt compelled to take it. Whenever hiking in this area in the past, I would stay on my usual two kilometer loop. I might hike that loop anywhere from four to ten times before I've had enough, but today I felt like exploring - literally as well as figuratively. The further I went into the woods the more I discovered, not only about the terrain but about myself. As I explored, I had notably more curiosity about the narrower, less travelled paths than the trails that could be seen down clearly. I favoured those narrow pathways over the well travelled ones each time there came a point in my journey where a decision needed to be made to take one over the other. Often the narrow footpaths dead ended and I had to backtrack to take the passage that had originally been disregarded. Despite this, I never regretted my initial instinct to duck down and delve into the trees.

There were several times I got lost in the forest that day, my saving grace being the GPS on my phone. I’m sure I'd still be there if I hadn’t had that with me. Even being lost and wandering I wasn't afraid, and knew I was on an adventure of self discovery and healing. The dirt under my feet was forever solid and never moving. It was rough and uneven at times but it was always there, and it was the most stable thing in my life in that moment. I felt a distinct connection with the wilderness around me and I became so overwhelmed with emotion that I laid down on the earth and let my tears flow down my cheek and into her. At that time, it felt as though we were one. I stayed that way for a long time, letting all of the hurt drain out of me. When I got back up I felt different. The grief of my heartbreak was still there, but there was also a heavy longing for the strong connection to the earth that my ancestors had. How did it change so that we now had to drive to the forest instead of being forever surrounded by it? How had we become so detached from the wildness of our earth that we were intrinsically attached to? How had we become dissociated from something that had the capacity to heal us emotionally? I was meditating on my own questions as I ran down the final stretch of the path to my van. As I looked back to where I had come from I saw the years of trees, older than myself, standing proud and firmly rooted. I saw the moss on the trees, the ferns amongst the grasses, and the pine needles that blanketed the trail. I heard the songs of the birds and the scurrying of small animals in the underbrush, too quick for me to spy. The dank and secret smell of the soil surrounded me, enveloping me like the earth’s child, and it was then that I knew I would be okay.