journey

I didn’t know what to do. At least, in my clouded mind, soul, and heart, so full of grief and confusion, in that moment of life, I thought I did not know what to do. But, looking back on that time, I now know that I did. I did know what to do. I did have my own answers. It was just a matter of articulating, processing, and trusting. Trusting my higher self. (That part of each of us that talks to ourselves in our head. That part of each of us that we usually tell to “shut up, you’re thinking crazy!” Only to think back and realize that maybe ‘higher self” was right all along.) It was later in the evening. My husband at the time was down in the TV room, remote in hand, in his evening zone. Meanwhile, upstairs in my dressing room (a little cove to the side of our master where I would get ready for the day) I was face down and sobbing into the carpet. Body shaking, nose running, face soaking wet from tears, puffy eyes, splitting headache. That kind of sobbing. I had been there for quite awhile. I was pleading for someone to just hear me. For something or someone to just tell me what I needed to do! I was in the depths of despair. I was lost and feeling completely alone. I knew in my heart of hearts that this was a major turning point in my life, but which turn to take? I could not decide. I didn’t even know what my options really were. I just knew with my whole soul that something had to change. That I needed different. As I sobbed and sobbed, begged and pleaded, I heard a voice. I heard it so clear. It spoke in my head. I think that up to this point in my life, it was the first time I heard that voice and I didn’t try and shush it and tell it that it was talking crazy. I listened, and it simply said “You know where your path you are on right now it headed. You know what direction that one will take you. But, you will never know any different unless you try. Just go see what is out there. Try. You won’t be stuck, just go find out. You can always come back to here, but how will you know if here is really right unless you go see for yourself? Just go!” Instantly the sobbing ceased. I sat up, leaned against the dresser, and just stared. Stared at the painting that hung on the wall in front of me and listened to the silence. I whispered, “Please just show me that I am not alone and that I won’t be alone” and in the moments after that whisper, I heard a click. Click. Click. The dresser drawer handles were clicking. I knew I was not alone. I felt the warmth, I felt the love. I knew things would be okay. I went to bed. After that night, I left. I moved out of my home that I had shared with my husband. I moved away from the life that we had had together for 11 years. I moved forward. I had to. I knew with great resolve that this was the right thing to do. Thanks to my higher self, thanks to the universal powers and the divine intervention that aided me, I knew. So, as the opposition and resistance came at me from all ends, from him, from immediate family members, from extended family, from neighbors and friends. While they were all trying to tell me of my wrongdoings and poor choices; I stood firm. Because I knew. Looking back at that time in my life I remember the loneliness. I remember the awful feelings of being so wrongly judged and so completely misunderstood. I remember wanting to shout out for everyone to hear that I was nothing that they were judging me to be. But, I did none of that. I remained silent. I thought silence was the best because I did not feel that my life or his was anyone’s true business. I felt that no matter what I said, judgments were already in place and feelings were already strong, so what good would my sentiments really be to anyone? Silence does speak though. It speaks volumes. Maybe I should have shared more. Maybe I should have been vocal. But, I didn’t. I was too tired and sad and frustrated and feeling so alone. I didn’t want to fight anymore. Not with myself or anyone. I just wanted to focus on how life for me could turn in a new direction and begin for me. That is when God sent me Ryan. As a side note here, before I get to Ryan, let’s talk about God. I have struggled for a real long time to articulate what and who God is to me, always failing at each attempt. Is it a he, a she, a real person, a cloud, a power, something to fear, or not fear just love, is it really a father like I was raised to believe, is it a source to keep me in check and constantly provide guilt in my life, or is God even real? Then I read a book. She described God for me. Exactly what I feel, and she said it! Finally! So, for me, (because Liz said it better than I could) this is God: “It is a proper name for the power to which I pray, to that indescribable power which makes me feel “warm”. I generally refer to God as Him, which doesn’t bother me, because in my mind, it is just a convenient personalizing pronoun, not a precise anatomical description or a cause for revolution. I have always responded with breathless excitement to anyone who has ever said that God does not live in a dogmatic scripture or in a distant throne in the sky, but instead abides very close to us indeed---much closer than we can imagine, breathing right through our own hearts. I respond with gratitude to anyone who has ever voyaged to the center of that heart, and who has then returned to the world with a report for the rest of us that God is an experience of supreme love. In the end, what I have come to believe about God is simple. It’s like this---I used to have this really great dog. She came from the pound. She was a mixture of about ten different breeds, but seemed to have inherited the finest features of them all. She was brown. When people asked me, “What kind of dog is that?” I would always give the same answer: “She’s a brown dog.” Similarly, when the question is raised, “What kind of God do you believe in?” my answer is easy: “I believe in a magnificent God.”” So, thanks to my most recent read, I have been able to settle the wrestling inside myself on exactly what I felt about the power that is higher. The divine in my life. Ryan. He came into my life when I was most alone. I had Chal and Jannie and that was about it. Sure, I guess you could say I had family, but from my perspective at that time, not really. They seemed to me to be too busy consoling my soon-to-be ex husband and trying to figure out how to “fix” me. I say this without hostility or judgment or even bitterness. I say this most matter of factly. Because at that time, I really did see things that way. I now know that I may have interpreted the situation a bit harshly, and for that, I now apologize. But, nonetheless, in those moments of time I did not feel the closest to my family. I knew I had a choice. I could hate them and be upset and see them as disloyal and write them off forever, or I could just take care of me and be grateful for what God had given me, and that was Ryan. So, I did get somewhat bitter, and I was upset, but I got over it. I had a bright path a head of me and I was done being sad. Ryan came into my life exactly three days after my night of crying into the carpet. That is how fast intervention sometimes comes. I didn’t choose that. I have no control. It happened because it was time. It was high time for change. Not just for me either, for both of us. It has been said many times that you better be prepared because you never know when life is going to throw you a curve ball. Just so you know, that is true. We were thrown into each others lives at huge turning points for both of us. He was just exiting a seven year relationship and I an eleven year. Together we were ready for change and we had each other to help make the transition a bit easier. It has been four years since then. Four years of growth and change. Four years of building and cleansing. It has been amazing. It has been difficult. It has all been a huge journey of discovery. Discovery that would have never happened if I would not have listened to the voice that told me to “Just Go!” And, now I see that all along I did know what to do, I just needed to trust.