It's time to let him go.
And as much as I'm aware of this fact, I find myself resisting, justifying, and clinging on to him... for one more day, one more week.
The need to let him go could not be more clear. The weight of it could not be heavier.
Yet still I remain, hands clasped tightly around him. Willing him to hold my heart. Forever.
As I process why this is, as I go back & forth between resistance & release, I find myself perpetually frustrated. Why is this so hard? What about him & my relationship with him is so significant that I just can't seem to let him go?
So many feelings arise when I consider what letting him go will look like. Feelings of pain, fear, jealousy, insecurity. They accumulate in the pit of my stomach & make me sick. They fester until I'm a big pile of nerves & the only thing left to do is cry.
Letting him go equals a loss. His role in my life is dying and it makes me sad.
I've recognized for the past week that I have to grieve him like any other loss. But it's so dang hard. I feel silly crying about someone who was never mine to begin with. I feel stupid at the amount of dread I feel when I consider life without him. I don't understand the loneliness that is already creeping in.
I think to myself: "He shouldn't matter this much. He shouldn't affect me this much."
But he does.
If I'm being 100% honest with myself, he's filled a very significant void for quite some time & without him, I'm fearful of what life will look like. I'm fearful that no other man will be able to protect me like he has, love me like he has, meet my needs like he has. I fear that no other man will be able to hold my heart so steadily & so safely as he has. He has been a rock of sorts & for that I'm forever grateful.
But I need to let him go.
I need to let him go because God has instructed me to do so. Because he is not mine to have and I am not his. Because God has assured me that there is something better out there. Because it's the healthiest option for both him & me.
It's a scary choice and it's leaving me extremely vulnerable. But in all honesty, there is no other choice. Death to this brings life to so much more and so that's what I meditate on, that's what I look forward to.
Tonight, I commit to letting God hold my heart. Steadily. Securely. I give in to the knowledge that only He can protect, love, & fulfill me to the degree of which I need it. Only He can fill the gaping void that this loss is leaving & only He knows what's in store for me.
Does anybody know
How to hold my heart,
How to hold my heart?
'Cause I don't wanna let go
Let go, let go too soon
-Sara Bareilles "Hold My Heart"
When I started this blog I was pretty determined to "live out loud" in this space. I wanted this blog to be therapeutic, not only for myself, but for others. I wanted it to be a running commentary on my life and my journey. From this screen I wanted to embody authenticity, vulnerability, and honesty.
And I feel that I have accomplished that.
I'm proud of my blog. I'm amazed at the words that flow freely from my heart onto this screen. And I find such peace in coming to this space and just writing.
But others have not necessarily seen it this way. This saddens me.
Some have chalked me up to being narcissistic and wanting everyone to know EVERYTHING about my life.
Others are unhappy with how up front I am about certain taboo topics.
And still others are taking personal offense to the words that I write here.
The words that come forth are not always of my own making, but they are of my own experience. If you find therapy, encouragement, support, strength, or anything else in my words, I am glad. That means that you relate and that you see a part of yourself in my journey. That is what this is about.
Let me be clear though... this blog is not about you. It is about me. If no one were to ever read this blog again, I would still write and I would still grow because of it.
I share my story, my journey, and my experience so that I may fully express the gratitude I have for living this crazy life.
I share my story so that one day I can look back and see how far God has brought me.
I share my story so that you or you or you, may find hope & healing in these words, in my experience.
I don't share it to be voyeuristic. I don't share it to seek attention. I don't share it to rub things in your face. Those reactions are more about what's going on inside of you, then what's happening in my world.
There is therapy here. Intense, life-changing therapy that I receive by doing this. And this is one of the only times in my week that I allow myself to be somewhat selfish without apologizing for it. This blog is my highest form of self-care and I'm so thankful for it.
So, please... react, receive, and reflect on the words that I write, but please don't attack me because of them.
This is my space. All mine.
I have a chair in my room that is my sanctuary, my command center. I sit there, hidden away for hours reading, writing, praying... emptying myself.
Lately I've been spending more & more time in that chair. Secluded but not isolated, still but not quiet.
So much comfort comes from that chair and I don't really know why.
Maybe it's this new rhythm life has taken... one that is much more intuitive than ever before. I'm hyper aware of everything around me. My gift of discernment has headed into overdrive and to be honest I kind of like it.
The words that flow forth here on the blog and in my own private journals are never-ending. I'm constantly feeling the need to write things down so they don't disappear into thin air. I'm feeling the need to be heard, even if it's only by God.
For too long I've been the shy one... the one who would let others interrupt & take over the conversation, the one who couldn't find the words to express anything tangible, the one whose fear kept her from speaking her mind.
But today I am so far from who I once was. That girl who was once too shy to call & order pizza has vanished... finally!
And here I stand in her place.
Not quite confident, but much more so than ever before. Not quite loud, but crescendoing in the most beautiful way. Not quite ecstatic, but walking briskly toward it.
I'm reluctantly beginning to find joy in the journey, because I'm realizing that I'll always be on one. Maybe not this same one, but one nonetheless. Right now that journey is in finding my voice... learning to speak my mind with abandon, being OK with the fact that my words might offend and that I cannot please everyone, and standing my ground when I say "No". These are things that I'm not comfortable with, but I'm getting there. I'm learning how to be heard and it's actually pretty great.