
In a period of just five days, my life has completely changed. I went from having two new dogs, a three and a half year loving relationship, a flock of thirteen laying hens, a magical raised bed garden in the middle of a forest of oak and maple, a beautiful home office, and a life full of security and certainty... to ending my relationship, moving in with my sister's family til I can find a place of my own, giving away my chickens, surrendering the dogs back to the organization they came from, complete uncertainty around my office and income, and a totally blank slate.
I hadn't been planning this.
For a long time Jess and I had been doing our very best to meet in the middle because of the deep lifetimes-old love between us. But despite our best efforts, neither of us ever really thrived in our relationship. I keep hearing the words of Esther Perel in my head, "You can love so many people, but you can only make a life with a small handful." At the end of the day, sometimes, deep love just isn't enough. Not when one of you wants a baby and one wants to put all her incredible energy and talent into her career. Not when one of you loves a full house with lots happening and one needs lots of quiet inner time. Not when one of you wants lots of travel and adventure and the other wants to start a farm.
So, the universe conspired last week to push us to our breaking point, so we would finally be honest with ourselves and each other. Even though the love between us is so great, it's time to hug, and grieve, and walk away from one another, at least in this capacity, and into the full, truly expansive lives that are waiting for each of us.
I can't sit here and tell you that I felt brave and safe in walking away. I had been hearing the little voice in the background of all my thoughts for a long time telling me this wasn't working, but my deep love for Jess and appreciation of who she is at her core kept me holding on. I wanted so much for us to find a way. I wanted us to learn to love one another exactly as we are, to truly be a team, and continue to build the beautiful life that we both hoped was possible. So when the time came, where it became glaringly obvious that there was no healthy, happy path forward, I was terrified and devastated. Devastated at the prospect of letting go of my best friend and closest person. Terrified of having to support myself on my own, having no consistent, adequate income currently. Devastated to leave the land and plants I've poured so much of my love and time into over the last four summers. Terrified of what this might mean for my ability to build my private practice on my own. Devastated to give up my chickens and my home for the last three years. The list goes on. I've never had more to lose, and I've never felt less safe stepping into the unknown. But luckily for my human, at this point in my life, when I know the truth, My Truth, and that little voice in me is waving its arms and begging me to listen, I do.
So with tears in my eyes, trembling hands, deep fear of the uncertainty that lay ahead, and a completely broken heart, I packed my things and headed to my sister's.
Since then, I have gotten a front row seat in seeing if applying my Intuitive Emotional Healing framework in my own life over the years has deepened my ability to handle overwhelming grief and loss. And even though I'm actively grieving as I write this, and there are still so many details to fall into place in order for me to truly start over on my own, I can tell you with confidence that it has.
I have noticed that my brain is truly a safe place to land now. I no longer end up in the ER with anxiety attacks, I no longer wallow in depressive states. Over the years as I have worked to notice the thoughts and beliefs that make me feel small, dissonant and like a victim to my life, grieve them, and instead tell myself a true story of empowerment, acknowledgment, and deep self love and compassion, my inner world has softened and strengthened. It's clearer, less mired in toxic nonsense that just wastes my mental energy, and kinder to me. My brain has truly become the best friend to my heart. So now in this moment where my mind could be doing gymnastics trying to figure out a way out of this, or giving into the fear and sending me running back, or feeling deep anxiety about what lies ahead, it's just not doing that. It's not creating the inner chaos that would have previously sent my heart in downward doom spirals.
Instead I'm arriving to each moment, feeling the swells of grief as they arrive and melting into them, holding gentle loving space for myself as the tears fall and the deep hollow feeling in my chest amplifies and recedes. I'm finding that the more I'm willing to feel the pain I have at leaving all that behind, while knowing deeply that I am loved and okay and so resilient, the more I'm able to truly accept this new reality and find moments of levity, connection, and love in the in-between. I'm lucky, in this transition, to be in a bright corner guest room at my sister's where I get to see my nephews everyday, and spend time curled up with her two sweet cats, Pearl and Pony. There is life and love in this house, and I am grateful to receive it even as I have moments where I have to excuse myself from gluten free waffles and bacon around the table with my family to go sob for a few minutes so I can return to good food and togetherness.
On the phone with my parents yesterday I reflected with them that the most beautiful part of this whole excruciating situation for me, is that I did the thing that I was the most scared of, (leaving and starting over) and I now know, with no uncertainty, that I am, and will be okay. I can do this. I can trust and surrender knowing that I am so held and so guided. My heart is strong and wise and beautiful in all the pain she's willing to hold and release, and I know she will only be more loving and courageous because of all that she is willing to feel.
And as I have stepped into greater belief in myself, and been willing to feel all these big feelings without resistance, I have been delighted to watch as all the little details that are needed to create a new path for me are falling into place. I have a transition home here, for as long as I need it. Four of my chickens came to join my sister's flock last night, including Big Mama, my favorite (I got to throw them corn and mealworms today just like every other morning) and the rest are off to a new great home. I have an interview this afternoon for potential part-time work to help me through this time of building my practice. I still have access to the 50ft x 100ft garden space I've been tending in Arrowsic for the past three seasons. I even have a lead on a potential apartment that will be available next month. And on top of all of this, Jess and I have had some deeply healing conversations, walks, and shared meals that give me all the hope in the world that eventually we will be able to be close people in one another's lives, for the rest of our lives. Of course we will need time and space to heal from all that we have walked through together first. But not all is lost.
So while there's still lots to sort out, boxes to pack, apartments to tour, and tears to shed, I sit here in the midst of the void, with gratitude in my heart for all that IS here, and the deep knowledge that I am okay, and cared for no matter what. My heart hurts, and it's just going to for a while, but I can hold my grieving heart, and I can love her, knowing that this grief is temporary, and she is more than equipped to hold it.
I now know that my fear is just that, and has no basis in reality. Those thoughts do nothing but keep me small. The truth is that I am a powerful force of Love in the world, I am resilient, and I am capable of creating an inner world and an outer world that truly feel good, expansive, and beautiful. And the only way I can do those things is to continue to feel this big grief as she comes in, welcome her as the loving sister she is, and allow her to continue to clear the space for all the limitless possibility that stands before me. I always say that grief is the big equalizer, coming in in big moments of change to help us shift from the energy of what was, and into the new energy of what is here now. And I can tell you from my recent lived experience that it really is true. When we allow our hearts to be cracked open, all the honoring of the beauty that was pours out, all the grief of the loss of all that could have been dissipates, and we make room for new love and possibility to flood in and fill in the cracks. In this way grief truly fortifies our hearts, allowing them to hold more Love, possibility, and tenderness.
I can't imagine a greater gift than that.
That is a hard road. You have an inner strength and drive to wander your own path. Be well, be safe, and know there is a hug here just for you.
Tears are filling my eyes and my heart is aching as I sit in the sunshine and read your words, Claire. Your willingness to feel so deeply, and your very articulate expression of it all just downright vibrates! And is like a song. After our gathering on Saturday, I had the impulse to contact you and offer you a session of "being sung to" when you can get to Portland next- out of a feeling of gratitude for all you have given me (us) and wanting to offer comfort.. I still would like to do that. I also, even before last week, had intended to reach out to you to see if you were still doing massage because I've …