In May of 2015, I escaped to California to begin healing from a failed marriage. From May to September I was still and quiet. I was determined to heal completely before moving forward. I chose to remain buried in the hurt, disappointment, and regret until I was strong enough to grow
from it and stand on my own. With my roots planted firmly in the dirt, my tears their water, and my eyes fixated on The Sun I slowly began to emerge. Slowly.
In October, my buds showing, I decided to open up a bit. I met some of the most amazing and inspiring people who would become and remain some of my best friends. They opened my eyes and exposed me to aspects of life I’d never tapped into before. They taught me things about me. Exposure is everything. I expanded my horizons, and it mattered.
During that time I was also dealing with the stress of selling my (twice) marital home, and that was taking me on an emotional roller coaster all its own. I just wanted out. In December of that year, my divorce was officially on the books. In January of 2016 the house finally sold, and I moved to the city.
For the past year and some change, I’ve practiced a completely new approach to life. I’m blooming, and it feels just incredible.
Last night, I stood in my condo and looked around at all the things that (with God, of course) I’ve accomplished for myself and my daughter. Mainly, I’ve managed to just keep us both alive and well. I thought about the road from then to now, and how I’ve persevered and kept my dream alive. I’m proud of that, you know, because it hasn't been easy every day.
The growth I’ve experienced and can see in my reflection is worth more than gold to me. I’m enjoying all the aspects of life and its ebb and flow. I’m more than aware of the waves that WILL come my way, and I’ve learned how to just hold on as they cover my head and it feels as if I can’t breathe, because I’m confident and secure that I will be able to breathe again no matter how strong the rush. It all passes in time.
I’m most proud of my ability to rest when it’s necessary, which involves fully trusting the process. I don’t strive as much as I used to. I’m not as interested as I used to be in deadlines and standards and rules and norms and ideals. I’ve let go of setting so many expectations (both for myself and others), because experience has taught me that expectations create false realisms. Ten times out of nine, life ain’t gonna look like what we thought it would. Expectations create false failures as well. When things don’t work out the way we imagined they would, we consider it failure, when often times it was just never even meant from the jump, and it turned out exactly as it was always meant to. That’s not a failure. That’s destiny at work in our lives.
Trusting the process takes practice. It's not as easy as we'd like to believe.
I'm getting so much better.