This is what letting go looks like, too. Not good, not bad - letting go simply is letting go, a different form of grieving. A moment in time.
This morning all of a sudden letting go looked like sadness again.
The sky, gray and thick with clouds matched my forehead, turned down, scrunching toward my eyes.
“No, no no,” I thought.
I don’t want to feel this sick pit in the middle of my stomach.
“No, no no!” I want to go back to the glorious moments in the labyrinth when in awe I said, “This is what letting go looks like!” Having glorious a-ha’s in waves of understanding and joy, bliss and appreciation.
I didn’t want the tears to actually be sorrowful tears. I wanted tears to be “Wow, I am enlightened!” tears.
I was actually feeling really bad earlier, the hurt cuddling up to me, taking my hand and saying, “Look, letting go sucks and you know it. Stop cloaking it in spirituality and crap. Letting go means you stop wanting what you wanted so badly before. How on earth is that not horrible?”
This is what letting go looks like, too.
Conversations with the invisibles perched on your shoulder, aiming to bring you down a few before you go back up to where you are more comfortable and more growth happens.
I did my usual “I feel like crap!” behavior. I tried to get in contact with my therapist. I actually took care of a few long overdue tasks in the process, which is good. This, I am reminded, is what letting go looks like, too.
I let myself be sad. I reached out to a couple friends who tolerate me expressing myself no matter what it is I feel compelled to say. They are willing to follow me around with a broom and a dustpan and sweep up all the excess verbage and negativity and then fill me up with words of rest and reassurance.
Today it was like those days only it didn’t last as long.
I didn’t crash and burn.
I didn’t allow my tail to get torn off my ass so I would need to sew it back on again, lamenting all the while “This is what letting go looks like and I’m mad as hell about it!”
Letting go is similar to other forms of grief.
It comes and goes in waves. It isn’t a straight line from “Bye bye” to “I feel fabulous!” there are all sorts of chapters of letting go in between.
Sometimes in an hour or two one may see three different faces of letting go.
Right now I’m out of sadness and into serene again, which is why I can write this so easily.
The sadness isn’t a bad part of letting go, by the way, and the serene isn’t the good part of letting go - they both simply are faces of letting go which we, as humans, get to experience at some point or another in our lives.
There is some blue in the sky now. It is paler than the usual Bakersfield blue and the sky is striped with thin, spidery clouds. Not bad or good, not better or worse. Simply a sky. Simply clouds.
This is what letting go looks like, too.
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Julie Jordan Scott is a writer, performance poet, Mommy and mixed-media artist. Coming soon - more creativity camps, playgrounds and workshops to grow yourself artistically (and hey, just for fun!)
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© 2014 - Julie Jordan Scott - all rights reserved
This post is a part of the ongoing series for 31 Days challenge. I will be writing 31 blog stories about bold choices and using a bold voice....
I'm amused by my ability to catch up, fall behind (as I am now) and catch up again. Right now, I'm still a couple days behind. Maybe by the end of today I'll be caught up or... maybe not.
I'm grateful you are reading.
