A morning scene at The Wild Fig – a bookstore and coffee shop
I hold close to my heart.
***
I’m on the quest to find a birthday gift. Browsing the
bookstore, I contemplate journals exclaiming inspirational sayings, poetry collections, a coloring book for feminists. I search for a
potential present exuding the vibe of this particular irreverently reverent
Virgo. I circle back to a display of socks featuring quirky bicyclists pleasantly proclaiming profanities.
I envision my spunky, sweet friend opening the present,
and then wonder if maybe I’ve already given her cute cursing socks? My mind
swims through water-colored memories of her previous birthday celebrations in
the hopes of remembering presents from the past. The stroll down memory lane
does not yield confirmation to cursing socks given or not; instead, as I
revisit former scenes of toasting and enjoying birthday drinks and dinners with
my friend, I find a happier former version of myself. The rediscovery of this
sparkly, enthusiastic, openhearted, mermaid-mane me prompts a surge of sadness.
Then, I realize it’s been a year. Last year’s birthday
celebration coincided with my first day of work. My friend’s birthday marks the
anniversary of a completed year in working in the field of violence prevention.
I remember the young woman who started this work – wearing a bright blue blazer
paired with a fitted blue-and-white striped dress, ecstatic and serious, fueled
by passion to serve, and already zealously overcommitted to over-assume
responsibility in order for the program to succeed.
Now, a year later, after bearing witness to stories and
seeing the devastating impacts of domestic violence first-hand, I feel even
more feverishly committed to prevention work.
There’s another intriguing detail to this past scene, to
my former self, celebrating a friend, inwardly ecstatic about her new position.
In this scene, as I began to embark in community work, I felt completely secure
in love and belonging: my friendships genuine, supportive, strong; my
connection to my community comfortable and nurturing; my romantic interest in a
man was innocent, loving, sweet.
Now, standing at the end of a completed year, this trust
in love and belonging is broken. This knowledge saddens me, because this is not
how I want to live – fearful of forging relationships, of relaxing and
establishing ties to a place because of possible hurt, perceived betrayal or
mistrust. These days, though, I feel myself curling back into my center, like a
turtle tucking away into the security of her shell.
I trust this intense introversion to be an aspect of my
healing process. In quiet, I let myself feel the full hurt of betrayal. I fell
for an illusion of a man, and once his alarming true nature was revealed, I
spun into shame and pain.
I misplaced trust in friends and team workers. I shared
struggles with people who did not hold my best interests at heart, who were
unable to hold my full aching self. My ache was a fresh wound and perceived as
an opportunity to take advantage – to push an agenda, to teach a lesson and to
be unsupportive and hypercritical as a way to discharge insecurity and attempt
to show superiority.
The loss of trust in these friendships stings worse than
the calculated discard, performed masterfully by a man gifted at persuasion.
Like a moth to a flame (and I’m still unsure who was which), an attraction that
began playfully grew into an emotionally abusive entanglement.
After the shock of the startling discard, the anger, the
depression, the unbelieving responses from friends and family (a perpetuation
of his purposefully constructed gaslighting), I am now free to see the stunning
accuracy of my own gut reactions and intuitive insights warning me to not trust
him, to stay away, to question. After the fact, I am in awe and comforted by the
intricate wisdom dwelling within that worked to advocate for my protection and
wellbeing.
The significant difference between the bright-eyed Gemini who
gave her Virgo friend laughing Buddha figurines (now, I remember), and the one
deciding between which journal would appeal to this Virgo lady’s stylish taste,
is this:
I trust and belong
to myself.
The past year’s
lessons, heartbreaks, triumphs, and pains propel me to be my own best advocate.
I stand on my own
side.
I trust my
instincts.
Through practicing
radical compassion and forgiveness, I’m learning to deeply love myself.
I shift my perspective on my younger-self sitting at that
birthday celebration for her Virgo friend. Perhaps this past year has been
about redefining relationships, most particularly and significantly, the
relationship with myself. As self-love and self-trust deepens, then my
relationships must evolve so I can continue to joyfully expand; and in this
expansion, there’s been a change in relationships: a letting go for many, a
deepening for some, and this is all right. I’m grateful for all these life-travelers
who I have crossed paths with along the way. All are teachers.
Trusting in the cycles of time and being, I let myself be
where I am – enjoying choosing a birthday gift for a friend, because I enjoy –
I adore - loving my loved ones. Now, as I process, breathe, and carry on, I
reflect that same deep love, that same deep adoring, toward myself.
The journal I’ll buy for my friend; the cursing socks, I’ll
buy for myself.
