(Originally Posted 2/18/08) I've had a hole in my heart for as long as I can remember. I've never been able to really find it or fill it despite my best (and worst) efforts. I have always felt this inexplicable sadness. It feels like I've had a hole in my heart for as long as I can remember. I've never been able to account for it. I still don't know what it is or why, but I know that now I have found it and must embrace it. I am the only one who can fill that space. I can do it. I just didn't know until now how to unlock my heart and let myself in.I moved this weekend. Physically I only moved around the corner. Psychologically, however, I moved forward twenty years. Due to weather and other miscellaneous circumstances beyond my control, I made the entire move alone, along with two guys I found on Craig's list Thursday morning. (Shout out to Jason and Brandon--You guys rock!) I started moving Friday and am still moving today. It's tough doing this alone.
Physically, I'm in great shape, so the packing, picking up, toting, pushing, pulling and stairs (I went from a large, comfy, house-like garden apartment to a loft-like townhouse with two flights of stairs!) weren't that bad. I kind of enjoyed that aspect of it. Enough good Merlot makes most things more enjoyable in my book.
The "Three Mile Island" moment came yesterday. I decided to make a clean sweep of it. I got rid of stuff I'd been packing around for twenty years through several intense relationships gone wrong and the deaths of the three people who probably had the most significant impact on my life besides my mother. (She is still alive, albeit with Alzheimer's, bless her misguided heart. But I digress. That's another post in itself--maybe a series.)
I'm the self-sufficient, independent type. Most people can't even imagine that underneath this (apparently) intimidating, "all that and a bag of chips," confident exterior lies an utterly vulnerable, romantic to a fault, sentimental and sensitive woman-child. I knew that, but somehow, I was compelled to and managed until now to submerge that part of me. The intensity and depth of pain I was holding in my heart surprised and overwhelmed me. I was my usual focused and in control self, until I started physically purging my possessions--my life made manifest in things.
The tears started early Sunday morning and came in waves all day. I'd be in the middle of unpacking a box or deciding what artwork would go where and somehow, I'd end up on my couch, on the floor or in the bathroom mirror, literally wailing and sobbing for no apparent reason except that my heart hurt. That's the only way I can describe it. My heart hurt. It was a visceral pain that rose from a place I have no recollection of visiting. I didn't know it was in me. I didn't think it was me.
However, now that I've found it, I don't plan to ever lose touch with it--with me again. I need myself more than everyone else does. That is the life lesson here.
I was raised to believe that it was my role--no, my job to give, put my desires on hold and take care of everyone else. To do otherwise was just being selfish. (Can I get a witness!) So, the obedient child I was, I internalized the lesson and have lived it for the last several decades. I've given so much of myself to other people, to the community, to the job, to my family there was just never enough time, never enough of me for me.
But now, I am away from all of that and them. Who knew I'd find my true self by myself in Dallas? It is the place where the "me" I've been searching for resides for now--physically, mentally, emotionally, and spiritually? I guess I'm finally down with that.
I've got to get going now--go move out more "things" and make more space for "me."
Peace.
Yvonne
