“She’s [gabiklaf.com] been down for almost two months, which has taught me a lot about letting go of my baby, what defines me, and my ego; and now, I sit and look at her again and wonder how to touch her again. Like the first time again, I want it to be so romantic, just perfect.”
– an email to a new online friend
And so, here I go….
There’s a homeless guy at the end of the street who directs the traffic. He stands there, very intense and passionate, doing his job. Florescent pink plastic whistle in mouth, wad up stack of paper in right hand, arms flapping all over the place. No one pays him to do it. I don’t think anyone pays attention to him either.
I do. I love the homeless man. Yesterday, when he tried to help me cross the street, I smiled and looked the other way. He made me uncomfortable. Tomorrow, I’m going to cross the street a few times just so that he can direct me safely to the other side. Just to thank him. Just to make him feel important. That’s what I told my kids when they asked me, “Why does he do it if no one pays him?”
We All Want To Feel Important
I think everyone of us just wants to feel important. We want someone to care what we think, we want our voice to be heard. We want to know that if we dropped dead on the side of the street, someone would care. I waved goodbye to a piece of a fantasy a few weeks back, and he didn’t wave back. I was in the water, with my daughter who was snorkeling, waving like a mad woman and as the boat pulled away, I realized, he doesn’t see me, he’s not thinking about me, he doesn’t care, and it doesn’t matter.
What a joy it was to feel the last part. It doesn’t matter. I don’t matter. How invigorating and enlightening it was to know that I am, flesh (and a whole lot more, but for now, bare with me), flesh that could rot in these waters and nothing would matter. Yes, some people would miss me. Yes, my kids and Kobi would cry for a long time and look back at my pictures and me babbling in all of those thousands of videos and idolize me. Yes! For once, someone would listen without pulling each others’ hair or fighting over who gets to be in the middle.
But, no, that’s the point. You see, they would still would fight over who gets to be in the middle, and they would still would be obnoxious, even in my death, when I really want it all to go quiet. And yes, after the boo hoo-ing is over, it wouldn’t matter.
Filling Blessed Voids
You see, I believe that even in my death, that that will be a huge blessing to my family. Yes, when the ego of me and my all-awesome importance stops to breathe, I realize that when I die, a void will be created. In that void, something awesome and empowering will become that could not in my presence. Yes, when I go, something else amazing will become.
I also believe that loneliness is a shitty thing, and a great equalizer forcing u:
- to face who we are
- what we are
- what we aren’t
- what we haven’t done
- who we haven’t become
- what fears, secrets and regrets we still have tucked away screaming at us every time it gets too silent
So, what do we do?
We turn off the silence, fill it with noise, drown it, verbalize it, get-busy-ize it and full blast so that we don’t hear it. And I’ve been tossing and turning for a long time, 58 days now, about losing my baby, losing gabiklaf.com, losing my readers, losing my voice, losing my ego-filled spot that I worked so hard to create, losing you. And you know what I did in that silence?
I freaked out some, I cried a bit, but, shockingly, not that much. Really. Drama queen me didn’t create that much drama over it. I didn’t break. I didn’t fall apart. I didn’t lose who I was. I knew that losing gabiklaf.com was a teacher, a great opportunity to face how impermanent I am, and how much it all really doesn’t matter.
What Does Matter
That I live in the moment.
That I take care of my body and eat mostly raw food, slowly, and in awareness.
That I fully realize, real-time, how amazing my dear husband is.
That I keep making time to learn new things, to play guitar, to exercise, to watch the rain.
That I keep being me, not scared of what others will say and not too influenced by neither the praise nor the criticism.
That I continue to love myself.
That I turn off the computer and see, really, really see my kids and how precious they are.
That I breathe.
I used to think I wrote to myself. That I wrote into cyber-nothingness and that it was just my little online journal, and that helped me through many a dark days. I used to think that I won’t matter online and you know what, if I do or I don’t, it doesn’t matter. I do hope that my love and my energy and my desire to inspire others on their healing journey too makes it to the right address. That’s why I loved my therapy groups in Israel, Panama, and Cambodia, cuz I got to see the faces and witness their growth, along with mine.
I have learned in the passed months that many people have read my blog, that my words have helped many women in those darkest moments find a glimpse and then more, of light. I do hope my words guide you, make you laugh or smile, and allow you, if only for a moment, to hug yourself and breathe.
I love you. If you chose to write something, go for it. That way I’ll know you are there. If you chose to stay silent, I love you. I love you. I love you. And yes, I am just talking to myself, reflecting the love I have for myself off of you.
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