Apologies: I haven’t been able to write for some time because I went through something life-changing and I came out the other end slightly damaged. So, I’ve been fighting, for what seems like forever. I’ve been trying to find ways to let it out so that I can get back to business/life as usual. And as I sit here exhausted from fighting on all facets, I’m reminded what a beautiful person once told me,
one day it will just surface…
As I read her Facebook status about learning how to love someone, the way that they need to be loved, and how she was grateful for those who loved her, in the way that she needed to be loved, I re-lived the hurt of the moment that she was not able to love me, the way that I needed to be loved; and I wondered what she seriously knew about love anyways. We’d met each other ten years ago, and after meeting again later in life; we were self-declared soul mates. We had a fragile friendship, the kind that took work. As my Gemini luvv says, I worked harder to maintain my soul mate relationship than I did in my romantic relationship (were they not supposed to be the same?! That’s another blog luvvs!). I worked harder because she held something that my romantic relationship did not, and that was a mirror. In her, I saw all my strengths and all my beauty; she made it so hard to look away. But in her I also saw and could not hide all my flaws, not that she’d claim them as flaws anyways; because didn’t we have the same ones? We were soul mates. We loved hard, worked harder and I’m certain our delicacy was still transparent.
A little over a year ago, she got pregnant and then I did too. And then I miscarried and our history changed, ourstory changed. I changed. I was. devastated. My biggest fear used to be that I couldn’t have children. And here was life, mocking my fears. There was no one able to console or fill my hole. That’s the thing about life-changing events like death, the hole is so palpable that you think others must feel it too! How could they not see you wearing it, touch it, feel it, smell it, smell the sadness that accompanies it. Something kept her from seeing my hole. Or maybe she saw it and couldn’t look directly at it, like the sun, because it too, threatened damage. Her emotional vacancy was too much to digest upon the loss of a child and the dreams and love lost with it…and just like that, our fragile friendship was also. gone.
Months passed and my hole grew bigger. I had stood up at my sister’s wedding, returned to work, and even began teaching dance again. But still…I was consumed. Consumed with the thoughts of my missing child and of her daughter: not knowing her, her not knowing me, or how much I loved her. The thought of not being a part of her life…killed me, as if I was alive. In my nightly showers, the place that I reserved for my tears, because no one knew the difference between the cleansings, I let it eat at me. How does one lose two children, when one is not their own? This was my rock bottom and the universe knew it. I could bear no more. She slowly started to update me of her pregnancy,
The last check-up was really good!
I’ll text you when she gets here!
We had no relationship outside of her updates. We weren’t working on our friendship. We weren’t starting from scratch. But were we not still soul mates? And then, the text came; she was here. I must have looked at that picture everyday for hours. Studying her small face. How she looked so wise and aware from the first day…like she knew she had work to do.
Babies have a way of healing. They heal hurts that you didn’t know you had, they give peace to fears that you didn’t know existed, and they can restore your spirit if… you’re open. I was wide open. I was begging to be filled, begging to be healed. And then she invited me over to meet her daughter. When I question her knowledge on love, I am quickly reminded of this moment. The moment where she put her hurt aside for my mine; because, please be advised; wounded spirits are not wounded alone. The moment where she opened her heart, to ask me back in. I am forever grateful and in awe of her, for this moment. I graciously accepted and with that acceptance came forgiveness and with that forgiveness, to her, to me, to the universe; I met my future. Slowly but surely, we found our way. We let the child guide us and have never looked back. We found our way to a deeper, more realistic, more honest friendship, and back to love. I found my way, back to me. I had seen the dark and the light of life, and now I’m certain it will not show you one without the other. And although I will forever be blessed with her memories, I will never be the girl I once was. The glamorous girl, who hunted her dreams down and fought vigorously for all the things she deserved. That girl is gone…with my child, with my old friendship, with the glamour and the fight, and with all the things that are not meant for me to carry onto the next chapter in my life.
As I think back to the week after I miscarried, when I traveled home, the farm will always be my home, and stood up at my sister’s wedding. She told her friend about my situation and late one night, her friend woke her chubby, sleeping baby for me to hold. It was like heaven, a moment in my heaven. Her friend later told me her story of miscarriage, her story of loss, and that one day: I would be a new normal. I’m forever grateful for these words. They became my mantra: one day I will be a new normal. The old girl was gone, she’d seen too much! One day, I will be a new me, a new girl, a new normal. That day is here; it’s been here. I don’t know what date it happened on, which is crazy because I had been holding onto dates, for what seems like, forever: the date I got pregnant, my due date, the date I found out my pregnancy was “unhealthy,” the date I lost my child, the date I lost my friendship, the date I lost my relationship, the date I lost me….and all of these dates have anniversaries. It can get overwhelming. Somewhere in between those dates and now, I became a new me, a new normal; and it is confusing, it is beautiful. It is life.
So, a month ago, when I stood in the parking lot, as the new me, to say goodbye to my soul mate, because no chapter lasts forever (don’t worry! She was just moving!) and she hugged me tightly and we cried, she whispered: “I’m sorry, I didn’t know then, but I know now.” I knew she meant nothing other than she loved me. She loved me and I felt it. The universe was holding me tight. See, that’s how love works. She had loved me all along (and I knew it) she just didn’t know how to make me feel it. You can love with all your might, but if the other person doesn’t feel it, what good is your love? Her Facebook status was dead on and since she is a halfie, here is the halfietruth of it all: experiencing love is learning how one another feels love and doing our best to make sure the people we do love, feel it. It’s hard. It’s work. It is not for the faint of the heart. It is reserved for soul mates.
So here is to the new me, to my new chapter and to loving with intent, so the whole word feels it.