The leaves started turning orange, red and yellow, marking the end of summer and the beginning of a new season. As I said goodbye to long, lush warm days, I also parted ways with The Boy with the Ocean Eyes.
All endings are sad, yes, but they are also gifts in their own right. The pain that accompanies an ending means that we were lucky enough to have loved so deeply, to have had something so special and for that I will always be grateful. However, sometimes the heart has to catch up with what the mind already knows, especially when it has been stretched by its own capacity to love. And this hurts.
The best way out is always through.
While I knew that I would be absolutely fine, I also knew that I had to live the heartbreak in order to regain my balance and heal. The problem was I didn’t want to feel hurt, plain and simple. So instead of dealing with my emotions, I just shoved them into the corner of my mind in the hopes that they would sort themselves out and politely leave.
Writing has always been my most effective form of therapy; as soon as my pen hits the page there is no escaping the truth, no turning back. I’ve found that writing after a particularly difficult time is similar to swimming through a vicious stormy sea. The waves pound and crash into my life. The tide sucks me in with such ferocity that I am forced to feel every grain of sand etched into my skin, every nuance of emotion, as the sea buries me deep in its belly.
The salt water stings my wounds by healing them.
After the storm has spilled over onto my page, my thoughts calm and once again begin to gently lap the shores of my mind. I am left feeling raw, humbled and light. I am left understanding the reason for my pain, and what lessons I need to take away from the whole experience.
The cure for pain is in the pain.
The process is not easy, but always necessary.
I knew what was waiting for me in my empty pages but I was too afraid to confront it. Two years ago my friend Rona said to me, “Sometimes the hardest things to do are the things we most need to do.” Writing about my experience was so important but too difficult. I put my pen down. Words became elusive and coy, until one day they just weren’t there anymore.
I had single-handedly blocked myself with fear.
Writing became a source of negative energy and anxiety, so in the meantime I turned to other methods of creativity and embarked on an incredible journey. I spent my days painting, reading, going on adventures and cooking. Through each unique creative outlet I was able to learn a lot more about myself, about my limitations and about my needs. I understand now that I cannot truly appreciate the calm of the sea without being crushed by power of the very same waves. However, understanding doesn’t make the pain disappear, it just makes it more tolerable, easier to accept.
Don’t cry because it’s over smile because it happened.
I am on a journey of self-discovery and growth. I have since learnt that my Achilles heel is my desire for distraction. In the past distraction often came in the form of change. For now, I think I need to stand still long enough for the waters in my life to calm and clear so I can see what needs to be revealed to me. Anything can happen, but for now I think the answer lies in staying in one country for more than a year and walking this road alone.
I don’t know where I’m going, but I’m on my way.
Up next: My creative projects from the past month that helped me overcome my writer’s block.