Every time I think we are done, I’ve solved it, we are cure/clean/free; it comes back. Like a possessed boomerang with a dying affinity to my soul, it shoots up from around the corner and hits me, hard. I could be enjoying a carefree moment, basking in joyful whatever and then, boom! a thought comes up, and I’m galloping down my road to misery. The other night, I went out dancing and was having the best time. I closed my eyes for a moment, and boom! it hit me like a huge spiritual punch to the stomach. These days I can catch it (usually) as what it is: ricochets of pain still unresolved begging to be acknowledged.
And so I’ve tried a few interesting things that all have had a ridiculously short shelf-life, but have had their respectable place in my getting over the most painful addiction/loss I’ve ever had to face.
I Chose to be Very, Very Mad.
I’ve tried being mad, but not just mad, really really mad. I’ve tried to devalue the relationship, rationalize that I gave it way too much powerful/influence on me and that my friend was not worth half of the salt I credited. I’ve tried mad at how I have been unjustly treated in this situation, and it has brought relieve, or at least some distance from the heart. (And that has helped)
I Found Comfort in the Pain of Others.
I’ve googled my pain, found some really honest forums, and read the pain of others. It did help, knowing that others were facing losses like mine, that other’s had their hearts broken, that others walked this Earth with pieces of their soul missing. And while reading the words of other limping souls brought ‘comfort in numbers’, it did not make it go away. Actually, it just further justified and perpetuated my story of pain.
I Heard Angels and Saw Their Light.
So, I’ve walked around for days feeding my self-pity, believing my story of pain, and feeling it with each and every miserable step I take. I’ve jogged for hours with anger seething out of my jagged breath and tears streaming down my cheek. And I’ve fully believed my story. Fully believed it. And the Universe sent me Angels of Light three times in one week, exactly when I was most lost in my story, exactly to show me that anger, pity, desperation, and pain are not the frequency I was made to live in.
I Did “The Work”.
My friend Lainie says I am addicted not to my addiction, but to my addiction to pain. And of course, that really pissed me off at first. But, like all blaring reflections in the mirror; I could see that truth. I did Byron Katie’s The Work and found that when I believe my story, I am miserable, desperate, jealous, furious, and overall pitiful; and when I release my story, I am joyful, alive, free, beautiful, whole, and inspired. I like to breathe, I really do.
And so, I am doing another wonderful thing that Byron Katie says we can do- I am letting my thoughts go. Our thoughts are like clouds that float passed us. We cannot control them, but we can choose not to hold on to those that cause us suffering. And so, I am releasing those thoughts as they drift by. I see them, feel my chest pinch and my face contort in pain, and recognize what I am choosing to do. And then, I make another decision. I decide to let it go. I invite it to continue on it’s way. I wave at it, and push/shove/violently blow it away from me (when necessary) but choose not to hold onto it. Sometimes, it’s really hard, and I have to force another artificial thought into my head (“Gabi, right now, you will think about X”). Sometimes, it’s suprisingly easy, and I smile with a silent pride at my ability to choose.
Listening to My Soul.
I know this pain from elsewhere. Somewhere far, far away and deep, deep inside. And so, I listened and let it come up.
Have you ever walked slowly through your own pain? Have you ever witnessed yourself suffering, and could not find the right way out of it? Have you ever felt that stuck, but have known, that you are on your way out of hell, and were proud of that?
This is part of a nine-part series. I would be honored to know how you feel watching this difficult series, what you’ve learned, how you overcame you own personal addiction or loss. I’m here, and waiting if you desire to reach out. I’m here.
Tags: Letting Go
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