I was venting today about something that is, honestly, out of my control. Something that I had hoped would stop by now, in light of some recent events, but is continuing, for reasons I don’t know and can’t decide if I care to know. In expressing my frustration, I said “They won! I’m gone! Now move on!” and the ever so insightful friend I was texting said, “Yes, but really, you won.” And damn it, I did win.
It has been a long time since I could say, truthfully, I am good, when asked the
ever so not at all simple question: “how are you?” I feel free. Freer than I’ve felt in a least a year, possibly longer. No longer weighed down by something that should never have been as tightly bound to me as it became. I feel motivated to pursue goals and attempt to turn some dreams into reality. I am hopeful. I feel pushed, in the best way possible. I am encouraged. I am…good.
There had been one thing, one thing that felt like the weight of the world, on my shoulders for far too long. Over the last couple of months, I found the way to let it go. It took a lot to get there. Closure doesn’t come easy to me. I had to think, to dwell, to dig very, very deep into my own heart and mind, to find a way to say everything I needed to say to make sure the door actually closed. I needed to hear the click of the lock, knowing there was no chance it could swing back the other way. And I did.
People kept telling me it was brave. I don’t think it was brave. I think it was survival. It was hard, yes. Very hard. And it left me numb, then sad, then grieving. And then FREE. Clear and open. When I finally realized that’s how I felt, it was a bit startling, because only then did I realize just how entangled I was before.
Someone wise recently told me that there is energy and creativity in grief. For a moment I didn’t believe them, as I felt so very exhausted. But no so long later, that energy and creativity did indeed begin to show up. And though it’s only been a few days, I think it is going to stick around. It started showing up Friday, which is when I told someone “I’m good” and I knew I meant it. And I suddenly had a million ideas, like they had just been waiting on me to say “Ok, I’m ready.”
And then I had a lovely, peaceful weekend, involving a lot of rest and catching up. Last night I had two dreams. Vivid, real dreams that stay with the dreamer. In the first I was a bit homeless. I was hiding in other people’s homes and someone was going around looking for me. In the next dream, the one that I remembered first but definitely came second, I was being pursued by the grim reaper. The grim reaper, at least in the land of my subconscious, is a pale skinned, wiry red headed woman in a black robe and a dark car. She was driving after me while I was in my dream world car, through a cemetery, until we reached a wall. I skillfully scaled that wall while her robe kept her from reaching me. Just as she got to the top, I woke up with a bit of a scream. But I woke up alive. I did some research on dreams today. Normally I don’t have to, because I don’t dream in metaphors very often. It’s rare that a dream doesn’t make sense, that I can’t immediately pinpoint where it came from and what it means. But today I couldn’t, so I used the ever-wise internet to tell me. Dreaming of homelessness means a lost sense of identity. And dreaming of the grim reaper (apparently in any way) means that something has ended, or closure. They were somewhat unsettling dreams, until those answers. And then it made sense.
I lost myself over the last year. A lot of me. But I’m quickly getting it all back. And now I am even more certain that the finality of what had been weighing me down was absolutely the end. But more importantly, it was a whole new beginning.
Is everything in life fine? No, not at all. Because life never will be perfect. But it is so much more peaceful in my heart right now. And for that, I am beyond grateful.