It's Tough Getting Soft

This is going to be a highly personal post, so forgive me in advance. I have always worked out my feelings and my problems by writing, ever since I was a little girl.

It has now evolved into a two step process. I write to sort it out and then I run to re-align my feelings into the places they belong. Writing works the head and heart, running works the body, heart and soul and then somehow synthesizes it all and puts it in perspective. You can run through the pain and out the other side, stronger, somehow. 

I've mentioned a few times in past posts that I've had a recent heartbreak. And I have to say that struggling with the loss of a man is really new to me. 

My history is that when I was a young woman I was glib and glossy. I thought I was deep, loving, really "in" my relationships with men, but in fact I was always very defended and distant. I didn't share the real me, mostly because I didn't know who that was, and I didn't trust that I was loveable. It didn't make for successful love relationships, but it did make me the queen of the easy break-up. When I was done, I was DONE, and I never looked back or felt a thing. I thought I was tough and strong but in reality I was just scared. Scared to get real, scared to have someone know me, scared to feel. 

Phase Two in my development was that I went into hiding. A bunch of life events, painful ones, lined up and shook me to my core, knocked me right off the glossy, icy path I was skating on. And I retreated into myself. 

I made a decision to stay alone to learn how to love myself and create my own happiness. I spent a 12 year period doing just that. 

In all honesty, most of the years were spent with a harsh, bitter undertone. I had a lot of anger for men seething right under the surface. I also had a lot of self righteous disdain for women who needed a man.  I'm not proud of that period of my life. It was brutal, but it was a necessary part of the journey. I had to work through my hardness- like being a miner. I had to tunnel through layers and layers of stone, chip it away with my pick-ax, to get to the gold. And you guessed it; the gold was my heart. The gold was my softness, my vulnerability. 

And then one day I had an experience where I literally felt my heart open up and bloom like a giant flower.  It was a life-changing moment. Because it wasn't just a momentary fluke. My heart opened up and softened and stayed that way. There was no turning back. And living with an open heart was a whole new world.

So the new decision, the new challenge was to learn to love from this startlingly new, open hearted, vulnerable position. The idea almost took my breath away with it's poignancy. Just writing about it brings tears to my eyes. Because it's scary. And the longing for a real connection is so, so deep. 

But obviously I have a lot to learn about love. Or maybe the prayer I floated out into the universe, "Let me learn to love"

was the wrong one, or at least incomplete. Maybe it should have been,

"Let me learn to love AND be loved." Or maybe "Let me be in a happy, working love relationship."

Because right out of the gate, I fell in love with a man who couldn't quite love me back. And I got hurt. Badly. 

I was real with him. I let him see me and know me, in a way I had never done before. I liked, no loved, who I was in that relationship. I am still proud of myself for showing up and being vulnerable. Even though I should have used a little better judgement. 

Of course I had to leave the relationship to keep my self respect, to love myself, to "hold my own hand".  Breaking up wasn't easy, like in the past. It was SAD. And lonely. But necessary. 

This quote from my hero Mandy Hale, AKA The Single Woman, (http://www.thesinglewoman.com/) says exactly what I feel. I wish I'd written this. I certainly could have.

"To love someone who can’t quite love you back is a powerful thing…but to love yourself MORE is an even more powerful thing. My Mr. Big hurt me, challenged me, refined me, disappointed me, strengthened me, infuriated me, motivated me, polished me, and inspired me. He taught me both how to let down my walls and be vulnerable and to set boundaries to protect my heart. He taught me to embrace my spontaneous side and follow my heart instead of my head, and to live for the moment a little bit more. More importantly, he taught me how to love myself too much to stay connected to someone who doesn’t love me enough."

Right??? 

Yesterday morning I left the door to my cottage open, and two little birds flew in, made one graceful, synchronized swoop through my main room, and then glided right back out the door. I looked up the symbolism/superstitious meaning and it said that a bird flying into your house means that you will be receiving an important message. And if it flies right back out it means that you are releasing something negative from your life. 

And so, I release the "wrong" love. I will keep mining for the lessons, keep going for the gold, keep refining my prayers and my process. I'll go back to the basics of who I am. Yesterday was a good day, a day when I really did get to do the things that make me me. 

I started the day by getting my taxes done, made enjoyable by the fact that I had a real, deep connection with my tax preparer.  We shared stories. We laughed.  Then I went home and completed my daughter's FAFSA for college. 

And after the practical, productive things were done, I took a nice run on new trails out at Boerne City Lake. I felt the breeze and the sunshine on my head. I smiled as I ran.  

And after my run, I drove the back roads to Guene, past ditches covered in the bluebonnets so dear to my heart. I fell back in love with Texas in the springtime. 

I strolled and window shopped through 

Gruene. I smiled at everyone I passed.

Then I ducked into Gruene Hall for some live music.

And I remembered who I was, who I am.

So I'll wait for the important message those two little swooping birds promised. 

X2. 

Or maybe I've already received it. 

Thanks.