Clouds come floating into my life,
No longer to carry rain or usher storm,
But to add color to my sunset sky.Rabindranath Tagore
I know the heartache of love gone wrong.
Only once in my life have I really been "in love". Thrilling, terrifying, heart exploding love. The kind of love that renders the whole world quiet and says, This is the One.
It was a bloody disaster. I lost myself in it.
But I found something, too. Something precious and extraordinary. This is what I'd like to share with you today.
Looking back, I can see clearly that I was loving myself vicariously through someone else. I established his love as my rock. I began to build my self-worth on the foundation of his love for me.
Then, the storms came. Distrust. Miscommunication. As the relationship began to fall apart, I felt myself falling apart, too. The conflict was tearing me in half – on one hand, I was scared of losing the man I loved. On the other hand, our relationship was causing me immense suffering.
But really, it wasn't the relationship that was causing my suffering – that was only a manifestation of a deeper, more fundamental problem. The true cause of my suffering was a lack of self-love.
See, when you don't really love yourself, you don't know how to properly deal with love from others. You pour it like water into a well that is always empty, hoping that it will someday be full.
I know the pain of returning to an empty well, day after day, year after year, hoping that this time, this bucket will be the one that makes a difference. It is a very lonesome cycle.
When we finally broke up, I was heartbroken.
My sense of self-worth had become so entangled in the fabric of "us" that I felt utterly lost. My heart felt smashed into pieces. I just didn't know what to do with myself.
And for a long time afterwards, most of my inner dialogue sounded like this:
I'm not good enough. Never have been, never will be.
I gave him my heart and he betrayed me.
How could anyone love me? I'm a mess.
I'm weak.
I'm not cut out for love.
Lies, yes.
More importantly, these were aspects of my shadow self, revealing old wounds. And this is where my healing began.
Over the course of the new few years (yes, years) I gradually centered myself. I released the belief that the events and insecurities of that relationship defined me. I shrugged off the nagging idea that I needed a lover to complete me. I began spending quality time with myself. Listening. Accepting. Understanding. Forgiving.
A shift began to take place, deep within the core of my being.
For the first time, I began to see landscapes of truth appearing in the wasteland of my heartache.
I began to realize the tranformative power of self-love. I began to understand that, just as I was working out my own issues in that relationship, so was he. We were each walking our own private roads. Everything that happened between us was necessary for our own personal evolutions. Everything. that. happened. was. necessary.
Wow.
During this process of healing and growth, I've learned what loving and honoring myself feels like. I've found freedom and comfort in my aloneness. I've begun cultivating confidence and fearlessness. And I've finally realized that being in love isn't about completing eachother.
It's about already being complete, and enjoying the journey with someone special. Loving eachother from a strong foundation of self-love. Inspiring eachother, challenging eachother, supporting eachother, sharpening eachother.
Like iron sharpening iron, creating a shower of sparks.
Perhaps I will someday share that journey with someone... perhaps not. Right now, this right here, is enough.
Experiencing a broken heart served an important purpose for me.
It allowed me to stop masking my own lack of self-love with external love. It opened up old wounds so that light could be poured into them. It brought me to a place of openness where deep healing and growth could heartily begin.
And that well of mine, empty for so many years, is finally filling up.