On healing a broken heart

Here I am

It’s this morning.

After darkening the page, still I see nothing closer in trying to put words around something I am trying to get to.

Somewhat frustrated with not being able to touch what was wanting to come out, I go outside for a few breaths of air.

Maybe the words aren’t for today…. Maybe it’s simply that place where words end and it’s just time to point in the direction of, look towards and feel.

I walk down into the yard some, listening to the birds, wondering what beauty I would see in the flowers, feeling the crisp air wake up the rest of my body below my neck…and wondering what all of this was about...

My legs slowed my body down as if to say hold on, you forgot something….

And then my tears.

No stranger to me over these past few months, though these tasted different.

On a recent visit, a friend showed me something that had a few different “synonyms” for healing. “Healing is holding memories, not fearing them,” is the one that has stayed with me.

Last night, I asked for forgiveness for my part in all of the pain and heartbreak that has been felt over the past few months. As scary as it was for me to ask for forgiveness for those dark parts of me I don’t want to admit to and as vulnerable as it felt for that other part of me that just wants to hold as tightly as possible for fear of forever being alone, I finally felt free.

I felt all of the pain, all of the hurt that I had a hand in contributing to. I felt all of why a heart might close to me land on me with gravity.

I felt so much compassion.

I felt our hearts soften again. After all this time of disconnect, I felt let in and welcomed again. I felt the infinite, vast, expanse of connection that we’d previously floated in. Even if it were just for that moment in that time last night, it nourished.

Through an act of forgiveness everything slid away and here I am this morning with a joy inside my tears, a swelling to my breath, a (bitter)sweetness in my blistered heart, a warmth that whisper to me: welcome home.

Forgiveness.

I am sorry. Please forgive me.

And what was it I was trying to get to? What was I trying to get words around?

I don’t really know any more actually….

But if healing is holding, not fearing, memories….

What was once a story of pain and hurt is less so.

It’s a story I now get to revel in gratitude for all the ways it was so beautiful and sexy and loving and ummm sure, messy, but also fun, playful, adventurous and extraordinary, magical, mystical, divine….human…ours.

What a story it is…YES.

Once upon a time,

I fell in love….