This morning, I was laying in bed holding my heart in meditation.
Images of my life flashed before me. Some happy moments of flow... followed by a wave of guilt. I let it wash over me as it has many times before, this time determined not to drown.
At 29, I have plenty to look back on. Eternally the black sheep in just about every circle I run in, I’ve made decisions that even I don’t always understand. I’ve lived in five countries, some without a lick of of the language. I ran away from my comfortable life in the States to live in the forest of Estonia and got married to a man I barely knew with none of my family around. It was a decision equally fuelled by a desire for adventure and a cover up for my deep brokenness.
The marriage was over after a year. I’m almost proud that it lasted that long because I really did try to hold on. Determined to continue exploring (and feeling like heading back to the States would be admitting some great defeat), I hitchhiked to the Netherlands to start a life there. There’s a certain visa Americans can get that doesn’t protect us much but at least we can stay. I set up a business and paid my life savings for the visa. It seemed like the right thing to do and I went for it.
Two years later, the cracks began to show. My business was limping along but everything felt heavy. I couldn’t see it at first, but I know I was integrating not only my previous choice, but the culmination of all the random occurrences of my life and they felt like many.
I feel as though I do everything backwards or unconventional. It never occurs to me at the time but when I look back I always see how far from traditional my choices have been. I used to be somewhat proud of my non-basic life, but as the cracks began to show I realise how many rites of passage I’ve tripped over.
Now, I sit with my darkness daily. It’s difficult and the shame I feel for my past tips into the unbearable. I’ve thought of ending it but I know that I need to start what I finish this time around the sun.
I am slowly feeling better. It’s a bodily experience. My clenched jaw is getting a little more relaxed, my stomach a little less in knots. My chest a little less heavy. The shame is still here like a shroud, and there are days that I wonder how I’m still breathing. But when I received your email today about letting go of the past, it felt like Divine Timing.
It reminded me that at 29, I also have a lot to look forward to.