from "Eat, Pray, Love" by Elizabeth Gilbert

And please don’t laugh at me now, but I think the reason it’s so hard for me to get over this guy is because I seriously believed David was my soul mate...

He probably was. Your problem is you don’t understand what that word means. People think a soul mate is your perfect fit, and that’s what everyone wants. But a true soul mate is a mirror, the person who shows you everything that’s holding you back, the person who brings you to your own attention so you can change your life. A true soul mate is probably the most important person you’ll ever meet, because they tear down your walls and smack you awake. But to live with a soul mate forever? Nah. Too painful. Soul mates, they come into your life just to reveal another layer of yourself to you, and then they leave. And thank God for it. Your problem is, you just can’t let this one go. It’s over, Groceries. David’s purpose was to shake you up, drive you out of your marriage that you needed to leave, tear apart your ego a little bit, show you your obstacles and addictions, break your heart open so new light could get in, make you so desperate and out of control that you had to transform your life, then introduce you to your spiritual master and beat it. That was his job, and he did great, but now it’s over. Problem is, you can’t accept that his relationship had a real short shelf life. You’re like a dog at the dump, baby – you’re just lickin’ at the empty tin can, trying to get more nutrition out of it. And if you’re not careful, that can’s gonna get stuck on your snout forever and make your life miserable. So drop it.

But I love him.

So love him.

But I miss him.

So miss him. Send him some love and light every time you think about him, then drop it. You’re just afraid to let go of the last bits of David because then you’ll be really alone, and Liz Gilbert is scared to death of what will happen if she’s really alone. But here’s what you gotta understand, Groceries. If you clear out all that space in your mind that you’re using right now to obsess about this guy, you’ll have a vacuum there, an open spot – a doorway. And guess what the universe will do with the doorway? It will rush in – God will rush in – and fill you with more love than you ever dreamed. So stop using David to block that door. Let it go.

Safety

My friend and I had an unexpected conversation about safety. 

I expressed my challenge of feeling emotionally safe with most people. Now, I experience overwhelm with concern for MJ's safety. "I'm constant on the lookout of threats" was the gist. My dear, kind, open, honest friend, listened, affirmed, acknowledged, and comforted. 

(It was a master class in perspective taking.)

My immediate reaction to the awareness surrounding safety: "Oh shit! I must [insert an automatic, unhealthy response] to ensure [insert a controlled, comfortable outcome]. I was focused on the fear, not the gift of being seen and felt.

I did not properly articulate in the moment, but my friend makes me feel safe. I show up to spaces with them transparent and vulnerable without facade and bravado. It's freeing.

I have a lot to learn about making others feel safe too. I have a lot to unlearn about what constitutes a threat. I am willing to do this work.

Story

Me? 

Little ol' me? 

Ain't whole me?

Oh, I'm from that school of shame -

Where I am the victim and I am to blame

When I am guilty, it feels just the same

"Something about me attracts and delivers pain."

Ashamed.

Because living in my head hurts

And my opened closet reveals bodies on bodies in dirt

Shapen in iniquity and conceived in sin sits right

But fine print is appended to John 3:16

For God so loved the world*

*But that doesn't include me

I'm the daughter that tears, oil, and faith can't save

My state of humanity is uniquely grave

Me.

Big ol' me.

Not quite holy.

Removing She​ol clothes

Healing and learning from shame

And still slipping up

Still slightly profane 

Still questioning the therapist who said

"Change what you can change."

Much more aware

Much more free

Better able to challenge rumination's stories

Mental eraser in my figurative hands, 

Going to work on the aforementioned print

Finally beginning to understand 

The writing belongs to me, 

not God.

Me.

Soft ol' me.

Sister-Woman of Celie.

Declaring boldly to everything listening:

But I'm here.

I'm here.

I'm here.

Standing in the story.

story

noun (2)

\ ˈstȯr-ē \

Definition (Entry 3 of 3)

1a: the space in a building between a floor and the roof