Let go. #reverb10

Day 5 Prompt – Let Go. What (or whom) did you let go of this year? Why? (Prompt Author: Alice Bradley)

Not too terribly recently (but not so long ago) something pierced my heart, and in fearful defense, I locked her away in a heavy cage.

I held on to anger.

I let fear and doubt grow strong and high, in thorny bush and tangling brambles.  I saw the deadly brush thriving, and turned my eye, rather than cutting it down, as I should.  It grew thicker and tighter around the cage of my heart until almost no light could break through.  The more time passed, the less I even noticed it.

Her wounds too painful to see, even through the dense and thorny vines, I did not visit.  With no warmth from another allowed through the thick canopy I had allowed to flourish, she grew colder, ever colder.  No longer feasting on love (she deserved), comfort (she desired), the heart inside me grew weak, famished.  She beat dimly for a great time; my body kept grinding mechanically through the motions of necessary life.

So hungry was she that, when something found its way through the tangling cover to her living tomb, she questioned it not, but absorbed it fully, wanting to consume, to be warmed.  A fine and lovely trickery, this black ink was, but not the warmth she needed.  And where had I been?  It was my job to protect her, and I allowed her to be exposed to this clever poison.

Only when forcibly lead through the darkness by another was I able to realize how absent I had been, what I had relinquished so easily.  He gave me the strength I needed to bring down those brambles and vines, though the process was painful, and many thorns drew blood from us both.

I am excellent at building cages, walls.  I am a great grower of the thorny vine.  I hold tight to anger. I harbor fear.

I’ve struggled with being truly loved.  I’ve allowed circumstances to make me doubt it possible.  That is changing in me.

I have slowly, this year, let go of the fear of being loved.

And it is warm in this light.

Reverb 10 is an annual event and online initiative to reflect on your year and manifest what’s next. Use the end of your year as an opportunity to reflect on what’s happened, and to send out reverberations for the year ahead.

Haiku Assvice.

Scraping the barrel
like never before these days.
Weak, and yes, ashamed.

I know it takes time.
Am no stranger to symptoms;
it is depression.

From this low vantage
I can look up and see those
who are still moving.

Hear what they say, watch
what they do, and be amazed
at what’s important.

Be amazed at what
some find worthy of energy.
Anger. Ugliness.

It is so easy
to become ensnared in that.
Don’t let it happen.

With experience
comes perspective, and when it’s
shared, take what you can.

Try not to jump so
quickly to offense, anger…
do you benefit?

It is not easy
to step back and remain calm
with little practice.

I say this because
I know. I’m quick to anger,
easily annoyed.

And so often quite
the righteous rebel. And what
have I gained from this?

Drama is pointless.
Time passes by and I am
wasting my focus.

Have always found it
easy to see negatives.
Overlook the good.

Life is rich, complex.
Try to remind yourselves of
of this and do your best

to just ignore the
insignificant bumps and
enjoy all the rest.

Holding On To Hurt

The other day I watched some ridiculously random, stupid movie: 13 Going On 30.

And I cried.

Wait.  I cried more than once.

And what’s really pissing me off about that is that I was crying because I thought of my Swan.

I’ve been carrying a hurt in my heart for some time now.  The “hurt” is a residual effect of an event that transpired some time ago now – over a year ago.  It’s not something I care to share with the world at large, so you will have to forgive me and allow me some room to ponder and develop my thoughts without divulging them in intricate detail this one time.  I know it seems uncharacteristic of me – but there actually are things I choose not to talk about here, out of love and respect for others.  That is the case with this current topic.  And while I have no need to lay all the pieces before you, I feel hugely moved, if only momentarily, to talk about the hurt.   I think I’ve been denying the full effects that hurt has had on me, emotionally and spiritually.  I’ve been cramming that hurt into a box that I taped shut, painted black, mashed flat, folded into an Origami Swan and then shoved down inside my heart.

Whenever I bump into it by accident, I just quickly say to myself, “Ohhh, hahahaha (that’s quick, nervous, fake laughter) – there’s a pretty swan! Tee-hee!” and then I shove it back down and RUN AWAY.

Sometimes, when I’m all alone, I take the Swan out and I unfold it carefully.  In true masochistic form, I peel back the corners of the box and I look inside.  I pull the hurt out and I hold it up close to my face and look at it really, really hard.  I inspect it.  I see how ugly the hurt is.  Sometimes I just nod, because I know it is ugly; I remember clearly.  

But a lot of times I tremble, because I forget a little bit that it is as hideous as it is, and when I look at it so closely again, I am forcefully reminded.  I have a little, frayed string of hope running around in my heart attached to the Swan.  It’s the faint hope that the longer I wait the less ugly the hurt will look when I inspect it.

One year has not been long enough yet.  So I keep waiting and absently wrapping that string around my finger over and over and over again.

But the movie?  Why did it make me think of my Swan?  There’s a line, “We need to remember the things that were good.”

That’s what I want to do.  I want to stop inspecting my hurt.  I really want to just let it go.

I need to learn how to release all of the Swans I’ve ever folded… learn how to let them float away on an eternal river of goodbyes that never returns to its source, ever flowing outward and away.

Why do we cling to hurt and often find it easier to focus on than joy?

Why is it so hard to let go of our Swans?

Or am I the only one?