sewing-a-broken-heart

How do you describe a broken heart with words that can even come close to portraying the pain?
You can’t and like childbirth you forget on a surface level the acuteness of that pain until it happens again.
When you give birth you look at your child and marvel at how worth it the pain was.
But when your heart breaks you don’t marvel. Not in the moment anyway. You curse, you swear, you kick, you scream, you beg for the pain to subside. You try hard to take your next breath and you sometimes fight the urge to just stop breathing all together.
In the deepest moments of sorrow you would have found me in a dark room, knees hugged tightly to my chest praying for a reprieve because it hurts so bad its unimaginable how one can survive.
Soon the reprieve arrives as the sorrow comes in waves. I learned the pattern. When there was a down there would most certainly be an up. But when there was an up I knew I had little time to prepare for the next down.
The countdown began. The downs came so often and they overcame me like the panic of being swept away in an undercurrent. I struggled to reach the surface and sometimes only broke through in the nick of time. And then I would swim hard. Trying to get away from the next fierce tug from beneath that would inevitably yank me down again.
So the cycle continued. I came to realize that although uncomfortable, I had the ability to survive the darkness but it came down to what I did while there was light.
And so I set about creating in my mind who I would be when this was over. One blank page at a time I built my blue print.
I entitled page one “The Blueprint Of The Person Who Inspires Me, That I Aspire To Be And That Surrounds Me.”
You see I knew the rules. I had to get clear on who I wanted to be and then surround myself with like energy.
The power of what I wrote set into action a chain of events that led me here; to a place where I have built a new me.

On the outside I may look the same but what you may not see are the layers that have been stripped away from my heart.

Thick layers of pain and resentment, of walls and protection, of poor self-esteem and guilt. Layer upon layer upon layer of failed attempts to figure out who I am, what I stand for and why I would ever be worthy of the love being offered to me.
You realize in the brightness of the light surrounding us called love the degree to which you let it in is the degree to which it flows out.

I had to take a chance and swing the door wide open. I had to believe in me first and know beyond any doubt that I have been chosen to reside here in this time and place for a reason.

I found a way to believe I make a difference and to have faith that the footsteps I take in the dark are guided by what I see when it’s light.

I let in the light. I let in the love.

There are people who need me and I am learning to go there and be there for them instead of focusing on the hurt caused by my desire to dictate who needs me just because I think I need them.
I now know how much love can pour out of a broken heart and it’s powerful, healing and beautiful.
I’ve learned to give without expectation and to accept that true love lies beyond manipulation.