Transitions
The End of Something
In the next thirty days, my son will have graduated from high school and be off to spend time with his father, my husband will be starting a new job, and he along with my other son will be planting roots in new community, El Paso, Texas.
“No big deal,” I have been telling myself. I’ve done this many times before, moved and started over, each time shedding pieces of who I was and becoming more of some new version of myself.
But this time feels different, as if there is a more dramatic end to something. Maybe it’s because I’m not in the throes of parenting within the confines of a toxic marriage anymore. Twenty years of being swallowed up by a complex mixture of emotions, including an inexplicable depth of love for my children and confusion about whether choosing to save my soul was in their best interest too.
The In Between
Spending the last couple years in Little Rock Arkansas seems to have symbolized the in between space, the threshold between what feels like the most important years of my life, to a new beginning where my children are no longer my project, rather I am my project. I must allow my two sons to liberate themselves from their mother so they too may be free to have their own imperfect journey and eventually find their personal truth as I have.
A smile crosses my face about my preoccupation with water, which is a symbol of the unconscious. Besides being a wonderfully diverse place full of kind people, there is so much water in Little Rock. I have loved the thunderstorms, moody storms, and torrential downpours. I don’t believe it is mere coincidence that more rain has fallen around me these last three years than in the last twenty. I have been awash in what has forced its way into consciousness, prompting new insights about myself, empowering insights that I take with me to my new community.
The Next New Version of Me
Off to El paso, Texas I go, but not just with my emotions. My gift for feeling the emotions of others, especially my loved ones, is like sitting on the shore with my butt in the shallow water, my body being pushed and pulled by the rolling waves. I’m not in control of those waves of emotions, but I don’t resist the push and pull anymore. The crashing wave takes my breath away, and as I watch it subside, I gain perspective. There’s a comfort in the rhythm that causes me to trust the process.
El Paso seems to be calling to me, the beautiful mountains perhaps are a metaphor of my growing capacity to ascend to a new understanding of how my journey has prepared me to serve others. It’s not about me anymore, it’s about what I’ve become because I’ve come into deeper relationship with myself. I’m not a distraction, it is embracing who I am that contributes to the collective.
Nervous excitement is what I feel a lot these days, but also grief for the death of a huge chunk of my life and who I was when I lived that life. I am not sure what I will see when the future comes into focus as I ride this wave with as much grace as I can.
Try This:
Stop moving for a moment, take a breath, put your hand on your heart . . . and notice your emotions. And then notice what you notice about your emotions and where they are in your body. Your first response to a negative emotion will probably be resistance. If it is, just leave your hand on your heart as if it’s the hand of a trusting friend. Stay with the discomfort of the emotion . . . just a little bit.
Want a Partner?
As a connection coach, I help my clients explore themselves more deeply, and as they get to know the origins of why they are the way they are, they grow in compassion for themselves and others. It’s beautiful. If you want to explore whether we’re a match, visit https://lifeshinedesign.com.
