All there is: Pain

A perfect process

In times where I have no answers I turn to the page.

A place to express. For me to briefly believe that somehow, by typing, the answers I seek will jump up at me.

I believe we create our own realities.

We surround ourselves with the perfect people who will help our soul grow. Yet, while I know this. My heart can’t help but protest.

All of my relationships were perfect for my evolution but right now I am angry at perfect.

You can intellectualise all of this, you can quote something off Instagram like ‘it’s better to have loved and lost, rather than never to have loved at all’ but in the moment, in the dark early morning, when you’ve woken up again with a deep grief it just doesn’t help.

Nothing helps.

I have refused to numb this. No alcohol, no shopping, nothing that will give me any temporary reprise.

Yet I’ve meditated, journalled, done breathwork, cleared limiting beliefs, cleared emotional beliefs, cried on the floor, sobbed walking around the Christmas markets and still it won’t shift.

My dad comes to me. He sits in front of me. He doesn’t know what to say. We both know he knows but neither of us speak it.

I walk off.

He comes and finds me again with a story of a someone he knows telling him the danger of inauthenticity on dating apps.

I listen. I listen to the man who I learned how to receive love from and I am numb. He’s trying to protect me or help me. I’m not quite sure. Yet the conversation is one I do not want.

The man I want is not on an app. Or maybe he is. I wake up the next morning from a dream that there is someone else. It stays with me.

Life brings greater challenges than a broken heart and I take this as a small win.

I’m grateful that my pain is so deep because I’ve lost all hope that we could reunite. The plaster has been ripped off.

The wound is deep.

I remember all wounds heal.

This is how women grow.