On Letting Go

3 October 2014

Nights are often the hardest for me. My soft sweatpants, cozy blankets and gentle whir of the white noise machine are no match for the striking stillness and quietude of a night spent in solitude. I stopped wearing his t-shirt to bed weeks ago, but I'm still acutely aware that it sits in my armoire, alongside his long johns, long sleeved shirt and paint splattered pants. I wonder if I should keep them for now or if I should donate them, but I hesitate to put the question. 

I ache to cuddle, to nuzzle up and wiggle in as his little spoon. I ache for his touch, his sweet musky scent, and his warm breaths on my back, then slash the remembrance from my mind's eye almost immediately -- I've already learned from this suffering, and refuse to be imprisoned in the past by projecting the images of a relationship he said was destroyed. Each time the film is projected, I suffer again; I am no masochist, so I avoid the self-flagellation. It's been another good day, long and draining, and so I sink with ease into the warmth and comfort of my own skin.

Stripped of him and my memories, I'm left with only my self. I pause and observe how I feel. I feel centered and still, perfectly grounded in the present moment. I am alone but not lonely. I am not tired, and my mind slowly meanders in time. The racing thoughts that kept me awake each night for days on end are gone, and have been for some time now. I don't even know when this overwhelming sense of peace came over me, really, or exactly why. I speculate that coming to rely on my Higher Self for serenity may have had something to do with it. Everything is exactly where it should be, as it is right now, and my acceptance eases what began as a much more difficult night. My pain mellows more each time that I practice, and I examine my vessel closely. I feel whole and content, completely serene.

When I turn my mind's eye to my persistent ache for affection, I realize that I've been starving for human contact, for simple human touch. I swallow hard and allow this thought to continue for a moment. This will have to be discussed too, I realize -- preferably in person, but more likely over the phone. Instead of imagining the different outcome scenarios, I table the thought for later. First I need to clarify to myself what, if anything, above and beyond him it is that I am missing -- and then, whether this is a need or a want.

I miss physical affection and intimacy proper -- not just sex, but how holding hands magnifies feelings of love in me. I have so much love to give, drawn from deep within the endless pool of my Higher Self. It pours out of my every pore, and bathes me in a warm bath of divine light. Having realized the gift of unconditional love within myself, I have so much of it to give. It would be nice to share that gift with another person again. 

Would it just be nice, or do I need to satisfy some basic drive as fundamental as thirst?

I am so thirsty.

I remember the night that Onikkae put their arm around me as I sat sobbing, and the warmth that flooded over me as the weight lifted from my chest. I put my head on their shoulder, sighing deeply into my exhaustion. I felt completely drained and fully whole, this beautiful empty vessel extended outward in love and light. My pain had found its match in love, and this divine love amplified my own through this simple human gesture.

I have so much love to give.

I realize that the question of whether I am sufficiently healed to give love to another has been answered before it was asked, but that my other queries have found no such resolution. 

Time will tell.