47. Cycles of Healing

Instead of checking in last night electronically, I decided to take pen to paper and have a dialogue with myself. Here’s the edited version.



Wednesday is the two year anniversary of John walking out. Originally I thought I would celebrate the day alone; spend time reflecting on how much I’ve grown. It’s such a clear demarcation in my life. I now truly grasp the meaning of self reliance, emotional as well as physical. I’ve discovered the peace and expansiveness of non-attachment. I’ve enjoyed two years of self exploration and discovery, without fear or preconceived notions. I’ve sensitized myself to drama and experienced the bliss of living without it. That said, the experience was incredibly traumatic and there’s a deep scar in my soul that’s hardened part of me. Instead of joy, I’ve been experiencing a lot of anxiety and sadness these past few weeks. Sadness for my loss of innocence, even though my life is simpler, clearer and stronger for it. The anxiety has taken the form of difficulty breathing and horrible dreams. I am trying to discern whether it’s a response to the time of year or a warning signal about something current in my life I need to change. I am staying alert to that possibility, but I don’t see it yet. Last night I woke shaken by a horribly exhausting and graphic dream where I slipped from a bridge into an icy river. People were walking by smiling at me and I woke desperately trying to bleat out: help.



Work continues to be wonderful and challenging. Managing my partners is exhausting—a constant practice in dodging drama. I’ve brought us a lot of new business and we’ve hired my brother to schedule for us, which is very exciting. I am no longer amazed at my professional transformation—my leadership skills, talent and confidence. I recognize that in successfully facing one fear after another, I’ve learned to live fully and truly. I feel as though I’ve come into myself. I decided driving home from book club last night that I would like to write a work of fiction someday. You can’t conceive how monumental that declaration is for me. I’ve never considered that possibility and pretended to myself that I wasn’t interested—for fear of failing. I no longer need to prove anything to anyone. If someday I write a work of fiction, it will be because I have something to say and I wish to experience the process. If I don’t, it will be a conscious choice, not a default.



My determination to staunch and reverse my tide of debt took on new resolve this month. I have actually removed my credit card from use. Keeping it in my purse in case of an emergency doesn’t work for me. I was having an anxiety attack about money so I turned my worry into industry and planted my fall garden. I have been almost entirely living off the land this summer and I am expanding my garden to do this in earnest all year. My life here is idyllic and continues to feel so truly right for me. I am trying to work early in the morning so that I can stop around four to either exercise, go to the beach with Jordan while he surfs, or garden. My success is mixed, but it feels good as a goal.



For my birthday, and in honor of the tenth, I began another cleanse on the first  of September. It’s such a powerful and effective way for me to hit reset and feel reenergized and positive. I’m in week two and it feels wonderful. My yoga practice and walking have been sporadic at best, though I love both when I get to them.



I have been thinking a lot about how much I enjoy being alone, living alone; how perfect my arrangement with Jordan is for me at this stage in my life. We enjoy each other’s companionship, but don’t demand a lot emotionally from one another. I finally cried on Saturday, tears that had been working to the surface for awhile. I didn’t want to talk, I just wanted to be held while I cried, then allowed to transition back to my normal state of equilibrium. Maybe that’s part of the scar—part of the emotional self reliance—but I no longer believe that another person can share or help me in those moments when I feel so incredibly tired, sad and alone.