Worthiness of the Heart: Listen, Trust, & Love

This time last year I was packing up my things and once again saying goodbye to my family and friends. I was about to embark on a personal life-changing adventure that I fearlessly and desperately needed to take. To some this may have seemed like another one of my moves to run away from something or an "irresponsible, selfish" act to "hide from the pain" of my past, but for me it was the beginning of the rest of my life. For once in my life I knew what I needed to do for me, for my heart, and for any chance of a happy future. (See "Here I go again on my own" Blog)

I was miserable last year. From the beginning of 2009 until I left for Colorado, my heart was broken, and the pieces that were not broken were so protected with walls... Walls that I had built up so high that I could never possibly let anyone in because getting hurt one more time was not something that I would have been able to handle (or so I thought). I tied myself together with a smile and tried to focus on the good things in my life, but in my heart I knew I would not be completely happy forever if I continued on this path. Things needed to change.

I needed to learn how to trust myself. I needed to own that my happiness depended solely on me. I needed to break down the walls and begin healing my heart. I needed to forgive the ones who hurt me while focusing my energy on me and not on them. I needed to forgive myself of the things I did wrong and let go of my past. But mostly, I needed to love me and be happy with me before I could ever expect anyone else to love me and be happy with me. And so I set out for Colorado...

During the eleven months I was in Colorado, I learned more about myself, others, and how the world works than I ever did in the 28 years that I've been on this planet. I accepted new challenges and pushed myself to do things that I had always been too afraid to do. I trusted others and listened. I opened up my heart and let people in. And yeah, there were moments when I got sad, felt lonely, and questioned if I was really making the right decisions for me. There were times that I felt like I wanted to move back home. There were other times when I questioned my strength and the worthiness of my selfishness. I got hurt. I fell numerous times. I missed the "normalcy" of life that had been absent for so long. But because of all of that, I only got up stronger and more determined to be happy.

I wasn't sure what was waiting up ahead for me, but I was confident that I deserved whatever it was. As the months went by, I could feel my heart healing. I found beauty in myself that I never knew existed. I trusted my decisions and began to let others in. I depended on people to teach me what I needed to learn. I realized that life is too short to not go after what your heart wants, and I was finally learning the true wants and desires of my heart. I forgave the people who had hurt me and focused my attention to the lessons learned instead of the anger that I was stubbornly holding onto. By the end of October, I finally felt free... free to love, free to trust, free to live.

Now as I look back on the past year, I am so grateful for every single experience (even the broken friendships and times that I thought I had failed). I found my heart and gained the confidence in myself to go after what I want. I will live and love fearlessly. I will try not to worry about things that I have no control over. I will be true to myself and to others. I know what I have to offer to myself, to my friends and my family, and to this world. Mostly though, I understand that being happy in life is truly what matters, and only I am in control of the happiness of my heart.

Where do I sit at the reunion?

Earlier today I decided to continue my study of Eat, Pray, Love: a book that I have been dissecting for months now. I’ve read through it before and saw the movie, but I cannot put it down for too long. Every now and again, I will pick it up, start from the beginning, and flip back and forth through it searching for guidance, acceptance, and reassurance. I keep finding parallels of my life to that of Elizabeth Gilbert, sometimes on purpose but many times on accident. It’s so comforting to know that such a strong woman has experienced similar life challenges and has embraced life much like I have tried to over the past couple of years while continuing to be brave and courageous enough to share her thoughts, emotions, failed relationships, breakdowns, amazing experiences, world travel, and life lessons with her readers.

I opened the book to Part I, Chapter 30 because stuck between pages 92 and 93 was a boarding pass from when I traveled with Delta in April. Normally I would take out whatever “bookmark” I had previously used and start at page 1, but the first few lines of this specific chapter caught my eye and captured my attention. I continued to read the following paragraph:

I am so surprised sometimes to notice that my sister is a wife and a mother, and I am not. Somehow I always thought it would be the opposite… We grew up into different adults than anyone might have foretold when we were children.  It’s better this way though, I think. Against all predictions, we’ve each created lives that tally with us. Her solitary nature means she needs a family to keep her from loneliness; my gregarious nature means I will never have to worry about being alone, even when I am single… all I have to do is eat and read and pray and write (Gilbert 92).

Wow. Those words were exactly what I needed to read. Over the past couple of weeks (well, years really, but especially lately), I have been struggling with the fact that I am a 28 year old, single, childless female. Don’t get me wrong, I am thankful that I have not yet brought a child into this crazy, nomadic life that I call my own.  There were times before this lifestyle took effect that I did want to have a child by now. Actually, that is one of the only things that has stayed consistent in my little book of “wants” throughout the years. With that being said, I know there was, is, and will be a greater plan for my life that may or may not involve children of my own, and after reading this paragraph today a calming sense of contentment fell upon me.  Of course I still want to be a mommy and hold a baby of my own, but I cannot and will not let that want define who I am, what I do, and how I choose to live my life.  I cannot happily go through life saddened by the thought that motherhood may not be in the cards for me. If it is, Hallelujah! Life is great! If it isn’t, I will continue on this journey and make the best of whatever the purpose of my existence may be.

Gilbert continues on through the chapter discussing the conventional woman of our society: the woman who “creates a family with her spouse… to find continuity and meaning in the American society” (94). She discusses the annual reunions of her family and how everyone has their “place”- a child, a teenager, a young married couple, a parent, a grandparent- “at every stage you know who you are, you know what your duty is and you know where to sit at the reunion” (94).  No matter what else in life that person does, she has followed the societal norms and knows her place and purpose in life. But what about those of us who voluntarily or involuntarily do not follow this conventional cycle of life? What then?

It’s tough. Three years ago I did not ask to be a 25 year old divorcee out on my own with hardly anything to show of my life. Since then I have willingly chosen most of the paths that I have taken, but not all of them have turned out the way I had intended. Would I change any of it if I could? Nope. I am completely satisfied with my decisions and overwhelmingly grateful for each and every experience I have had along the way. Are there things that I still long for? Of course there are. I do want to find the love of my life, have a baby, and learn and laugh every step of the way. If that doesn’t happen though, I will continue to learn and laugh every day no matter where I am, who I am with, or what I am doing. I will embrace whatever my destined plan is and will be madly in love with whatever life throws my way, be it children, world travel, or thirteen cats. Ok, well, not the cats. I will bring them to the animal shelter, but anything else is fine by me.

Like Gilbert says, “I may someday become The Family Flake. Or it may have already happened” (96). Regardless, I will be happy. And no matter what, I will love my sweet nieces and nephews more than any auntie ever has. Let the plan continue in whichever ways it was designed...

Gilbert, Elizabeth. Eat, Pray, Love. New York: Penguin Books, 2006. 90-96.

Grieve. Time. Listen. Love.

Over the past few days I have had a lot of heart-to-hearts with friends about life, love, and loss of love relationships. Many of the people that I am closest to are struggling with life problems that (believe it or not) are even too big for me to "solve" at times. Proudly I have become the friend that listens and consoles without judgment and without adding in my two cents about whatever the situation may be. I may have been in a similar situation (or at least in a situation that required a listening ear and only a listening ear), and I can remember what I needed at that moment.  And although I am a really good listener and enjoy this role that I've gladly taken on, sometimes I selfishly feel the need to say something, but the words are never found. At those moments, I feel like a failure as a friend.  Almost instantly after the conversation ends, I remind myself that the person doesn't need me to say anything because there is nothing that I could possibly say that would make the situation any better, easier, or in some cases even remotely tolerable.

This morning after one of my "What do I say to her? Geez, Erin! You're not being the greatest friend right now because you don't have the answers!!" moments, I started researching "The Five Stages of Grief" (something that I became all too familiar with a few years ago). I came across the following article from Psych Central. After reading through the article, I was reassured that I am being a good friend by just listening. No matter how minuscule of a thing it may seem to me, sometimes listening is the greatest thing a friend can do for another. 

http://psychcentral.com/blog/archives/2011/11/20/8-tips-to-help-console-a-grieving-friend/8 Tips to Help Console a Grieving Friend

Within the article, the author talks about how grieving is different for everyone. Ain't that the truth! Every situation is different even if you think "I know! I've been there." Yeah, maybe you've experienced a death, a divorce, the loss of a child, the loss of a lover, etc. However, no two losses are the same. My divorce may have been similar to yours, but the way I dealt with it was the best way for me. That doesn't mean it's the best way for you, and only you know what's best for you. When a mother loses her child, she copes with it in the ways that are best for her. Those ways may not be the best for the next mother who loses her child. Not only are the ways in which one copes different, but the amount of time needed for one person to grieve definitely isn't the same for everyone. Minutes, days, months, years... who is to say? If it takes Guy 1 three months to get over his loss, but it takes Guy 2 six years to get over a similar loss, does that mean Guy 1 is stronger or loved the person he lost less than Guy 2 did? Of course NOT!

Jason Mraz's song "I Won't Give Up" has recently become one of my favorites for several reasons. When I hear it, I think of myself, of my best friends, and of a love that I am destined to find one day. My two favorite lines in the song are: "And when you're needing your space to do some navigating, I'll be here patiently waiting to see what you find" and "I had to learn what I've got, and what I'm not, and who I am." Oh so true! Not giving up is the key. No matter how hard it may be and how much time you may feel like you are "wasting," you owe it to yourself and/or to the person that is grieving. You are worth it; they are worth it. Time is valuable, and doing what is best for you is even more valuable. Unfortunately, doing what is best for you may take more time than you'd care to admit. Just remember that taking time for you to heal, cope, grieve, or whatever it is that you need may be the best gift you will ever give to yourself. On the flip side, if you are the friend of a grieving person, time and a listening ear may be the best gifts that you are ever able to give no matter how insignificant it may seem to you at the moment. Be patient, be strong, be whatever it is that your friend needs you to be. If you are unsure of what is expected of you, just be there. Listen. Love. Wait. Care. Breathe. Oh, and don't forget to laugh every once in a while. It's good for you; I promise.