SPIRITUAL JOURNEY
.14 More on The Invitation
By Angela
"It doesn't interest me what planets are squaring your moon. I want to know if you have touched the center of your own sorrow, if you have been opened by life’s betrayals or have become shriveled and closed from fear of further pain. I want to know if you can sit with pain, mine or your own, without moving to hide it or fade it or fix it."
-- from The Invitation, Oriah Mountain dreamer --
I have done all of those things and then some. I have experienced deep sorrow and ultimate betrayal by life. I have closed myself off from fear of further pain. I have just sat with my pain. Years ago, my uncle, a New York City hospital officer was gunned down by a major Columbian drug lord. Years later, my husband, a New York City police officer, was gunned down in the line of duty and my father, who was suffering through two kinds of cancer, died the very next day. At the time, my daughter was a little girl, and my husband and I were trying to have another child...
Those two events were so devastating that at times, all I could do was acknowledge the pain; all I could do was endure. The pain was so overwhelming, I shut down. I don’t even remember most of the events of the year following the deaths of my husband and father. And, when my life began to take on some form of normalcy again, I consciously chose to close myself off from further pain. I let no newcomers into my circle of friends and refused to have any dealings with men. I said I would never date again, never fall in love again.If that wasn't enough, some of the people in my circle and my husband’s circle could not handle what happened and stopped dealing with my daughter and me. They said that being around us was a constant reminder of what happened and they could not handle that. So they chose to stop being in our lives. They were people who were important to me, but more than that; people who were important to my daughter. We learned to live without the two most important men in our lives and the absence of long-held friendships.
So, I have sat with pain, and just endured. I have closed myself off to avoid further pain. I have done all that. But, in the end, I learned to let go. First, I made new friends. Then, I freed myself of the bonds that the fear of the pain of loss cause and am now I am in a place of hope. I am now open to love; I am open to giving and receiving love. Hell, I’m even open to the knowledge that taking a chance on love also means the possibility of experiencing sorrow all over again... though I hope that doesn't happen. Was letting go easy? Hell, no it wasn’t. Some of the people who were very close to my family dealt with the deaths by drinking to excess - a sure fire way to avoid facing pain. Some refused to cry, prided themselves on never shedding a tear. Even I even went through a period when I refused to cry. After all, many of us have been taught that tears are a sign of weakness. And, for a while, I was actually unable to cry. But one day, I was caught off guard and I cried. No, I sobbed...great, big, gut-wrenching tears. You know, painful, nose running, hiccup-causing, can’t see or breathe tears...tears so intense you feel like they will never stop. Yes, I cried those tears, and from then on, it was easier to cry. And I must admit, I still sometimes cry and it still hurts. But I believe that moment was the beginning of my cleansing and healing.
In the end, I think the most healing moments came when I just sat with my pain. It was like my skin for such a long time, it was hard not to acknowledge it. But, I mean I really sat with my pain; I examined it; I spoke to it; I let it speak to me. Those moments gave me insight into many aspects of my life, my marriage, my husband and my father. Those moments also gave me insight into where I was with my pain, Those moments are where I eventually found hope. Those moments are where I began to let go.
This week, examine your life. Are there areas of pain you have chosen not to deal with? Pull those painful memories out and begin to tackle them head on. Face your pain, acknowledge it, sit with it, speak to it. Cry if you can. Then determine to conquer your pain and let it go. First acknowledge there is a thing called hope that you can rely on. If you can do this, you can begin to move on.
Good morning heartache / Here we go again / Good morning heartache /
You're the one who knew me when / Might as well get use to you /
hanging around / Good morning heartache / Sit down
-- written by Irene Higgenbotham, Ervin Drake, and Dan Fisher originally recorded by jazz singer Billie Holiday in 1946) --
