Some days grief digs her claws into me & I cannot stop fucking crying. Hot damn, I am so sick of crying. So sick of it. The waves hit & I start to drown & sometimes it lasts days.
Today was day three of a big wave.
Three days of "back to the start grief". 66 days of this intense storm.
Then half way through my day, I got up, wiped my tears away, & said fuck this shit, it's time to find the magic again.
Pity party is over.
Victim mode is expired.
It is what it is, these circumstances of life.
BUT, there is so much - SO MUCH - to be grateful for.
I drank cacao, got on my knees & prayed & played my singing bowls.
Tonight I pulled out my journal & rather than writing a sob story, I wrote down "ENERGY LEAKS" (I teach this on a course in the ritual of self care) & identified a few key things that are robbing me of my life force.
Don't get me wrong, I'm not pushing the notion of denying or changing our authentic feelings -- I 'let' myself be swallowed by the grief for as long as she needed too -- I'm just saying, know when enough is enough.
Know when to get up, dust your knees off & keep going.
I know the wave will come back again. I loved so very, very deeply -- the wound that will leave a scar is enormous. It's fucking huge. But that's ok, I think it's a good thing to love real deep.
But the wound -- oh shit, this wound -- I can feel the shards of my heart ripping open my insides.
I know the healing journey is just that, a journey.
It's not going to happen over night.
It's going to take time.
But I also can see gratitude, thriving plants, potential, possibility, love & beauty. I can see hope.
These ashes are the perfect environment for the new me to fucking blossom.
Sober. 177 days to be exact.
So much to be grateful for. So much.
I am rising.
I am choosing the light.
I am choosing love.
Over & over & over again, I choose love.
Pic: @hipsobriety (again, love her work.. go check it out)