You know those moments when you read something and it sort of makes your heart skip a beat? The ::gasp:: happens. Then, the “Oh fuck” stomach drop hits like a sucker punch? You know the times. The times when you understand why ignorance is bliss and you’re pissed that you can’t just remain fucking blissful? Yeah, well.
When I read that sentence, from Women Who Run with the Wolves- a book that, in my opinion, needs to be on the bookshelf of every woman, (especially the ones seeking to live free, wildly, BRIGHTLY)- I literally set the book down and decided to process, the way you grieve and mourn- visceral and rapidly.
For the most part- this whole breakup, I’ve dealt with gracefully. I’ve been respectful and supportive, put his needs in front of mine…I've been trekking up the HIGH. ROAD. Wearing shiny sunglasses, peering onward and West, sans rearview mirror. I was everything I’ve needed to be for the both of us, to transition into this new period with dignity and acceptance….. so yeah, all of that happened- then somewhere between a bottle of wine and Saturday night mass emails to friends about how/why we’ve broken up, my inner resentment and I had a little TALK. A little come to Jesus, if you will. Spoken through a megaphone entitled, “Pinot Noir and Truffle Fries.”
There were things that were happening between us that I’d let myself say, “this too shall pass…” To say any of the reasons why we split came out of “left field” and sneak attacked me, would be playing the victim card and that’s not my gig. That would be a lie that I told myself to cope and frankly, I don’t have time for nonsense and lying anymore. There were things that I’d convinced myself would be “okay forever, till death do us part,” things that, in hindsight, are so far from okay the Old Me looks like she’s heavy on the crack pipe. Somewhere between acknowledging all of that and opening my inbox on Saturday night, to glass number three of my good friend Pinot- I realized, boo. Devil- I was so. Goddamn. Angry.
I wasn’t angry at him- in fact, I was the exact opposite. I was still proud and loving and maternal as every towards him. Him and I are still healthy and fantastic, no regrets. I still want him to be wildly, happy. I was….. angry at myself.
Angry at myself for getting THAT FAR AWAY FROM MY CENTER.
Angry at myself for not listening to what my intuition had told me all along. Not just one thing that I’d ignored, but a series of things. I was angry that my brain had loved someone so intensely that I was willing to accept something that, even in my happiest moments, I knew would eventually leave me sucked dry that to the point of needing him to continue. I was angry that I’d let myself love someone so hard, that I may not be able to actually care about ANYONE like that, to that capacity, with that optimism and faith….ever again.
I realized; you know what Chelsea Belle, right now- you're worth letting someone worry about you, take care of you, show adoration and excitement in YOU. Let them open doors, let them chase, let them see that you aren't here to be tamed, but you're willing to let them run alongside you-- if they can keep up.
Forgive yourself for staying longer than you should, for wishing it was going to be something that it wasn't, for seeing ALL THE SIGNS and doing it anyway. For turning a blind eye, for compromising too much, for giving it all away. Ease your instinct back out of it's cave, because you need it.
Listen to yourself. PAY. FUCKING. ATTENTION. Question their motives and as much as you want to give your heart freely, be cautious of who you give it to. Not to say that I have regrets, because I do not- but this next time around, I will be alert. Demanding of honesty. Of utmost respect and transparency.
Instinct. Your feminine nature that just knows. EMBRACE THESE THINGS. My wild women. Run with the wolves again.
What part of yourself are you not listening to???