It takes a moment,
just one mere moment,
for the ground to fall
from under your feet,
to tumble into the abyss
as you shatter into pieces
A moment that steals
not only your breath,
but your will to live
Taking everything, you were
in the moment before
and bringing you to your knees
A pain vast and all-consuming
melts the flesh from your bones,
makes it impossible to sleep
and even breathing becomes a chore
Sleepwalking through your days,
time no longer has any meaning
Each trauma experienced before
may have brought you
right to the entrance of hell
But this one moment
kicks open the gates,
catapulting you into the fire
In the intensity of this fire,
the warrior is born
Shutting you off from the world
as you retreat deep inside
Closing your heart
and armoring your body
The voice of your soul muzzled
Your body rigid and stiff
Afraid to open to love,
vigilance has become your companion
No longer living but existing
within the walls of hell
It may take many years
to become aware
that there are two hells,
the one of earth-shattering pain
and the one of armored, numb existence
You have piled one on top of another
I wrote this piece to honor a moment. The moment that my life started to change. At that time, I had no idea that my life was coming together not falling apart. Having experienced so much before this one moment, I could still gather my strength and putting my big girl panties on, move forward. Some days the moving forward was a crawl, on hands and knees, head bowed and exhaustion dogging my heels. On other days, I could gingerly take only one step at a time, focusing on everything and everyone outside of me. Hiding from the feelings, emotions, and pain-inducing thoughts.
I am stubborn that way. It is what makes me, me. I do not give up, give in or surrender. I simply did not know how. Refusing to look at the pain inside or acknowledge the searing rage because they are signs of weakness. And I cannot be weak, because then others hurt me. Dancing on the periphery of my own personal hell, I became adept at denial, pleasing others and denying my very essence.
And so, I attracted one moment. The moment that caused me to shatter. The loss of my soulmate. I had experienced a great deal of pain before, but this was unbearable. I was left naked, bleeding, and unable to find even a grain of my previously protective strength. Time stood still. I lost the will to live in a world without him. My dreams of The Notebook kind of love shattered and tossed to the winds of change. Tortured by the need to watch him carry on with his life without me.
It is true that the warrior is born in the fires of hell. I became that warrior, devoid of feeling, too afraid to open to love. It was a different hell, but hell it was. Time going by in a wink of an eye, nothing much to remember. Everything lost to the vagueness of armored living. And society helps us to don the armor and become the warrior, as showing emotion and being vulnerability are judged as weakness.
I started my healing journey for the sake of my children and my family. Resisting the deep inner work as I continued my unhealthy relationship with avoidance. I only continued with the journey, as I still did not know how to give up. And then one early pre-dawn morning, I was too exhausted to suppress the ever-present rage. I screamed to the heavens: ‘If you want to kill me then just fucking kill me already’. The emotion rippling through my body brought me to my knees. Shaking and panting for breath, I was still not done. ‘I give up. I don’t know what you fucking want from me’. Swearing and screaming at God was not something a well brought up Christian girl did. The shear force of my screams shattered my resistance and the floodgates opened. I sobbed myself into a deep, dreamless sleep.
That was the turning point in my healing journey. It took years and a few powerful facilitators to help me peel off the layers of protection, to dive into the traumas of the past, to revisit my childhood and put the shattered pieces back together. A falling together, not a falling apart. Slowly I learned to open my heart and step into my vulnerability. Once there, I had to learn all about boundaries and self-love. Our healing journey is never done. We grow and expand, becoming aware of the bigger picture as we follow the spiraling path to consciousness.
And somewhere along the path, Spirit called me to be a facilitator. And I understood. That one moment shattered the life I had created and pushed me onto the healing path so that I may create a new life in alignment with my purpose. Everything truly happens for a reason. Did this realization make the journey easier? Absolutely not. It opened another part of hell called self-judgement. Judging my stubbornness, my perceived weakness, the warrior in me and anything else my critical mind could find. Raging against my soul for choosing this bloody path. So deeper into the healing journey I went. Again, I worked to open my heart to myself. Levels and layers of healing, seemingly never-ending.
It took time to convince the warrior to take off her armor and let go of the weapons of sabotage, victimization, judgement, rejection, and abandonment. It took time to acknowledge that I had used those weapons against myself. It took time for her to change into a warrior of light. And only then was I able to channel the stubbornness to assist my growth, my expansion and lighting the way to increasing consciousness. We are so geared towards instant gratification that this process can be infuriating and cause disappointment when the next layer is revealed. Take the time. Time taught me that life is about the journey not the destination. Each layer healed brought me closer to my essence.
Each one of us has had a defining moment that sucked the life out of us. Your moment may be different to mine. We may look at another person’s moment and think that it is so much easier than ours. That it is not even a moment, just a little bump in the road. Then we may look around and be humbled by the moment of another and grateful that we are not in their shoes. Each one of us is unique and our paths are different. We cannot understand the pain of another. Just accept that their moment and their pain is real for them. We can heal. Sometimes it feels like an impossible task. The ability to heal ourselves covered by the pain and hidden from our sight.
Our souls will call to us. The quiet voice inside ever-present. Becoming more and more insistent. That is when we are at the crossroad. The choice between silencing or listening to this voice. This is when you know that you are ready, even when you do not feel it. This is when you are ready to surrender and ask the voice of your soul to guide you and the universe to assist you. Let your soul call you home. Home to yourself. Home to love.
#home #love #soul #healing #warrior #hell #consciousness #call #journey #surrender #armoring