Boxes

"Only people who are capable of loving strongly can also suffer great sorrow, but this same necessity of loving serves to counteract their grief and heals them." Leo Tolstoy

I have this image in my mind of every lost thing in my life. At each one, I took the feelings and placed them in a box. Wrapped it with beautiful paper and a big red ribbon and placed it on a shelf in the back room of my mind.

Seeing the shelves full of lovely packages brought pride and not sorrow. "Look what I've been through and survived!"

One foot in front of the other I'd say "Nothing can stop me"

But things are changing. The shelves are full and shifting under the weight. Each loss, no matter the size, causes an avalanche. The feelings are busting out of their delicately wrapped packages and saying "not so fast sweetheart"

They are demanding to be heard, felt, experienced. Thinking my way through it is an act of futility. Like an onion each layer must be peeled, each box unwrapped and savored. For in each one lies anger, fear, hurt, and passion.

I know love, forgiveness, courage and time will get me through. But I've made such a mess of things and the gravity of dealing with all those unraveling boxes makes me want to curl up in bed and never turn on the lights. Can't I just lock the door on them or better yet put all those little boxes into one giant "I don't give a fuck" box and throw it in a deep hole never to be found.

That sounds so tempting, and then I see the light dim in my children's eyes as they watch their mother's own light diminish.

That causes more shame and yet another box for the shelf.

What to do.. What to do...

Gentle Shift

A new wind is blowing through my spirit

Feminine and gentle

Less rushed

Allowing and Relaxing into the tides of change

It feels soft and gentle...Like the nurturing I have craved for so long

When sadness swells in my chest, I take a moment

And feel it deeply, all of it

Poppy and I snuggle up close and I whisper “I love you” in her ear

I stroke her hair and wipe her tears

She looks at me and between sobs says “You’re not enough. I want them. Not you.”

I tell her I love her anyway and rock her gently.

Some days the sadness stays with us and that’s ok.

The father in me knows how to put one foot in front of the other

Has enough courage and will to outlast the best of us

And now the mother in me is waking up.

She knows the tender way through.

Her strength lies in presence and awareness

Ironic that she was awakened by a man

A man unlike any I’ve ever known

Who whispered “relax” in my ear

And showed me pleasure and nurturing like I’ve never experienced.

He stays by my side in these sad moments

Without a word

But with an open heart and a love so strong it defies logic

And shows me the path to my own gentle strength.