The Journey

The seasons are changing again, and right on time, so is life. It fascinates me that perpetual change is a constant, and yet I, like so many others I see, still resist it. I have grieved this fact of life deeply. More than anything, I crave for life to be good and settled and for that to stay. But apparently, growth is what I signed up for in this life (as we all ultimately do) and so change has become my most constant companion.

Several chapters in my life seem to be closing at the same time. It is an ongoing struggle to get myself to the point of relaxing and letting go. Some of the closures are positive and some are painful, but even in the positive circumstances, I find the upheaval of change uncomfortable. Even in the case of a desired outcome, I find myself braced against the anxiety of the new or the unknown.

In most cases where these chapters are closing, I am looking out at a void. I can’t see what’s on the other side yet. All I see is Ending. All I feel is Closure. All I sense beyond that is a vast, blank space that I have yet to step into. It is the void of The Transition which I uncomfortably inhabit.

One particularly dear chapter to my heart has come to an end. I fought against the ending of that chapter for so long that it dragged out several pages beyond what it might have otherwise…and so did the pain of the ending. I am only now realizing that it was because the end of this chapter felt to me like the end of the story. It felt like the end of me, in a subconscious way. I wouldn’t let go because letting go felt like death.

Two days ago I reached the Acceptance Stage in the five stages of grief and I finally let go. That is not to say that the pain ended or that all the other stages came to an abrupt halt, but it was the first time I reached the point of acceptance and the resulting shift within me was palpable. It wasn’t until that point, after embracing what is, that I finally understood: This isn’t the final outcome of my story. It is just the final sentences/blows of this chapter. This is only a chapter, not the book itself. There are still more pages to come, even if I can’t see what’s written on them yet. We are not at The End.

Suddenly, I could breathe deeply again.

From this most recent realization, I have been able to offer myself more grace and compassion in my fight against letting go. Whereas before I felt weak and ashamed of my inability to move on, this deeper understanding of what letting go actually represented to me gives me a whole new appreciation for the complexity and the primal fear behind the struggle.

Death occurs in many ways and at many times throughout our lives, despite our tendency to primarily focus on the death of the physical body. But the same grief and fear that we hold deeply in our sub-and-unconscious minds towards the finite physical ending, is also present in all the other myriad forms in which we experience deaths: end of a friendship, loss of a job, a divorce or breakup, a favorite store going out of business, those favorite jeans that are worn out and tattered beyond repair…you name it, “large” and seemingly “small.” Death is death and it goes against every fiber of our physical, primal beings.

Put simply, letting go is f*cking hard. We would be wise not to underestimate the challenge.

And also…it is a process. I’m no longer ashamed to say that I am still in that process. It is taking time and that time will take what it takes.

The page is turning now. I don’t know what the next chapters hold. Up until now, I have not wanted to. The recent arrival of acceptance, however, is prying my eyes back open to see what is on the horizon. My sixth sense tells me it is all good things despite the turmoil and anxiety present in my physical body.

For now, I find myself in that purgatory between endings and beginnings. It is a place I do not enjoy, but which has become so familiar. Oh yes, I know this Void. I have rental property here.

As empty and blank as that space may feel, I remind myself that blank pages and blank canvases are the vessels which hold the potential for the greatest works of art. They represent endless possibilities and boundless hope. They are necessary for anything new to begin…OR to begin again.