the edges of myself

A few days ago I received a directive from the universe.  It was hiding within a small conversation we were having (myself and the universe)–entirely one-sided up until that point.  It went a little something like this:  me:  what is it that i have to do so that you will fully get behind me and support me?  universe:  show up.  me: (slightly taken aback at getting a response)  oh.  .  .  right.  .  .  (sigh)crap.  .  .  ok.  (It didn’t say anything else– not much for words apparently– but those two were enough).

To give myself credit where credit is due, a couple of days before said conversation I had just taken some baby steps towards this very thing.  These baby steps manifested themselves in the form of not eating ridiculous valentines candy that for some reason I bought and placed, much too easily within reach, inside my kitchen cabinet– but baby steps are baby steps.

And then after my conversation with the universe I decided not to open up the doors to the cabinet that houses the television in my living room.  I spent an entire evening (and several since) sans mindless, numbing “entertainment” and sickening, thickening sugar (hands down, my two very favorite drugs of choice), and at the end of the evening– I felt downright clean.  Clear even.  Baby step number two, check.

Now I am several days post universal directive, doing the best I can to show up, and I’m beginning to think it’s working.  Here I am, allowing myself to form actual concrete words that exist somewhere besides just inside my head– and there’s the potential that somebody besides just me might actually see them.  Baby step number three.  yeehaw.

As I allow clarity to wash over me, and it does so in waves, I realize just how far down the rabbit hole I have travelled over the past six months.  And I understand that this journey back up and out into the light is one not to be taken lightly.  There’s a reason I began the journey down into the abyss– and that reason needs to travel back up and out of the hole with me– not remain buried down there where it’s been hiding out, collecting dust and God knows what else.

At the root of what forced me downwards was some pretty intense heartbreak– which is challenging to own and acknowledge.  But there it is– simple as that.  I realize in looking back over the last six months– I’ve attempted several times to bring that heartbreak up to the surface and shine some light on it– and always to no avail.  My words remained captive– the final part of the process never taking place– publishing.

When I began this process of laying myself bare to whomever’s eyes dared to linger upon my words– I understood clearly that without publishing them, it’s almost as if they were never written.  The process is incomplete.  I own that for my voice to be as loud and clear as it deserves to be– other people need to hear it.

What I also begin to understand now as I form words with the confidence that others will hear them is this:  some of this is just mine.  There are small parts of me and my process that belong to me and me alone.   Although there has been little soul-baring, and much hibernation of late, within that hibernation a great deal of healing has taken place.  It’s been warm and gentle and monumental.

Sometimes we need to heal quietly, in the dark, without explanation.  Sometimes the light is just a little too bright, and the wounds just a little too raw.  And sometimes showing up fully is just not what a tired, heartbroken, business-owning single mom can handle.  But sometimes it is.

So here I am again.  Back and better than ever.  Stronger.  More Whole.  Steadier.  Solid. Smiling.  Ready.