On love. Loving. and letting go.

18 Jun On love. Loving. and letting go.

I’m just going to state the obvious…

saying goodbye sucks.

whether at the end of a relationship, the end of a chapter in life, the end of a friendship, or the passing of someone you love. saying goodbye just sucks.

I’ve spent the past decade in a sort of slow motion cha-cha with healing and hurting. I sometimes didn’t handle it in the best way possible. Instead of taking gentle care of me and allowing myself to properly grieve those passings of time, place, and persons, I wrapped the pain in old newspapers and stuffed it all in a cardboard box to sit and corrode for a few years.

This is not the best way to handle grief. I do not recommend it.

Much better to meet it head-on than to turn your back and attempt to ignore it. It rears its nasty little head at odd times anyway, turning away only gives more fuel to its fire.

because life keeps happening all around.

and the truth is, it will catch up with you. Eventually.

I had a baby. almost a year ago. and somewhere between finding out I was pregnant, and giving birth, a weird thing started happening.

I started to soften.

The places that had hardened in me, started to give way. As pregnancy hormones took over I found myself weeping at the most ridiculous things. and it hasn’t stopped.

like an emotional avalanche, happily plowing its way through me, changing me, altering my landscape.

sweet words from friends can send me over the edge. staring at my baby boy sleeping can bring a flood. Music, (well, that’s unfair, music has made me weep since I was small. so we’ll skip that one.) sappy commercials. the walking dead. yep. damn zombie show makes me cry.

when I was about six months pregnant we met up with my niece and her littles at a museum in Dallas. Browsing through beautiful paintings and sculptures, I turned a corner and found myself face to face with a Van Gogh. It wasn’t because of the painting, I don’t even remember the painting, it was the painter. I was staring at a real piece of art, created about 150 years ago, by Vincent Van Gogh. I was overwhelmed. I stood there and cried.

They are good tears. healing tears. tears that are truly busy washing away the grief of the last decade and re-opening my heart to all the love I’ve not really given myself the opportunity to fully embrace.

I am a bit saddened only by the fact that I’ve been guarded these past years, that in my melancholy I did not really allow my light to shine, and the people who knew me during that time, really only caught a glimpse of the girl I am. was. can be. will be.

She is re-emerging.
unfurling from the cocoon.
chrysalis nap ending.
transformation in progress.

so if you see me crying…I’m okay. they’re probably happy tears, loving tears, letting go tears.

I’m alright.

but if you ask, I’ll tell you the baby made me soft.

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