Greg’s favourite thing to say to me is, “Don’t worry babe, it’ll buff out!”
In the last few years, whenever I’ve been hurt or sad or pissed off about anything, he has listened to me bitch about it, given me his take on it and then finished off with, “Don’t worry, Babe, it’ll buff out!” Sometimes, this has driven me absolutely crazy, while other times it has made me laugh out loud. Lately though, it seems to have become my mantra. I find myself saying it at least once a day and it always makes me smile.
I have to admit that I am struggling right now. Each day brings new challenges – learning to live alone and apart from Greg after 12 years of living together; still trying to figure out how to control the influx of other people’s energy that can overwhelm me so easily; moving my business to an entirely new location and beginning to build an entirely new clientele; having to leave my bubble and put myself out there for the first time in a very long time to make new friends and forge new relationships in this new community; etc.
There are days where I wake up incredibly sad about now having to navigate life without my bestie rock beside me and others where I wake up excited and filled with anticipation of what will come. Days where I feel empty because I miss Greg so much that my heart hurts and others where I feel grateful to be alone and not have to take in anyone’s energy. Even though he is only an hour and change away and we still talk almost every day, it still feels like our relationship has died and we are now going through a grieving process of sorts.
And, even though it was my choice to end our marriage and uproot my life to start new and fresh in a different place, it is still a daily struggle and a challenge for me.
I’m not seeking sympathy.
I harbour no delusions that this will be easy. I am much too familiar with grief to believe that ending an entire chapter of my life would be as simple as shedding a few tears as he faded in my rearview mirror. I struggle. Often. I have nights where I lie awake for hours, pondering my prospects and wondering if I have the wherewithal and the chutzpah to keep my forward momentum and make it on my own. I have days where I am convinced there is a grey cloud of impending failure following me around, just waiting for my feet to stumble and trip me up, so it can swoop down and lock me in its greasy, gloomy grasp, causing me to doubt my choices, second guess my strength, give up on my abilities to kick ass. On these days, I set my shoulders and carry around the weight of sadness and self-doubt and I wait it out because I know it will eventually pass.
And, as grief allows, I also have many good days. Days where I wake up feeling like a shiny new quarter. Days where I practically skip out the door on my way to new adventures, new discoveries and new possibilities. I laugh until my abs hurt, smile until my cheeks get sore, and can think of nothing except how lucky I am to be alive again, to be motivated to get shit done, and to continue down the life path I’m on. On these days, I can’t wait to see who I will become, who I will inspire, who will inspire me, how far I will take myself. I vibrate with the energy of evolution and innovation. I buzz with the potency of potentiality.
Large life changes, even the expected ones, bring about a large shift in consciousness and that means a lot of processing of emotions – usually of the roller coaster variety. I guess it’s a good thing I enjoy a good roller coaster ride because, by now, I’m fairly adept at letting go of the Holy Shit Handles, letting gravity take over, and just riding the rails until the ride comes to a complete stop and my feet are once again on solid ground.
I know I have to go through this and that all of this emotional up and down is to be expected and that I will get through it, but that doesn’t make any of it easier. And, even though the ups and downs of this particular ride have been fairly significant lately, I know that in time, it’ll buff out…