circling back

I’ve been single for the past seven months after a long-term relationship ended.

For much of the time we were together, we talked about marriage. And, in the end, we never made those next steps — and it’s better this way. I’ve made peace with it.

And then I focused on work and family.

A few months later as I was still focused on my own growth, I felt a little nudge like a small voice asking a question as it poked at the back of my head, on the right side, just at the base of my skull. This poking was persistent and specific; the question was “love?”

In no way was I ready to dive back into a relationship. My business needed my attention. And I have only a few more months of having a child at home… once again, more possibilities open on the horizon. I needed to get back into the energy of what I wanted to create — and, as I did, unresolved hurts from the past kept rising to the surface. I took on a mission of healing and clearing those persistent beliefs, stories and energies.

A strange thing began happening as I started doing this work: nearly every man I’ve dated in the past decade circled back in one way or another. Guys I haven’t heard from in years came out of the woodwork to say “hey” in my dms: one became a client, one invited me to play Words with Friends, one asked to catch up over dinner, one hit me up to learn more about the work I’m doing now — and even that most recent guy reached back out to express his disappointment that I didn’t try to repair our relationship (he even gave me an apology script) after it had ended (and then notified me two days later he was engaged).

It became a running joke among a group of girlfriends. “Who did you hear from this week?” became a regular question during phone calls or messages, with me occasionally sharing screen shots or photos.

As flattering as it may have been to suddenly and strangely attract all these fellows from the past, there’s only one who might have stood a chance. And, of course, he’s the one I haven’t heard from in five and a half years.

“What if you reached out to him?” my friends have asked.

Truthfully, I have. More than once. Following through on something I said I’d do. Checking in. Sharing a photo memory that made me smile. And ultimately to let him know that I’d forgiven him and was grateful to have experienced what we shared together, to have those feelings as a compass. And I’ve never gotten any sort of response to those handful of notes over as many years. Which is its own sort of response.

I know all this and it still hurts. And I’m still tempted to share the Facebook memory that popped up from six years ago from our time at the beach. And I still hope for at least one more conversation, an acknowledgement, some kind of closure that I haven’t seemed to be able to allow myself.

I’m learning to move forward again, to release the energy and heal the hurt that seems to come in unending layers, and to embody the energies of what I want for myself: love, tenderness, devotion, adventure, companionship, etc.

And still, I can’t help wishing he would circle back.

past to possibility

And here is the biggest realization of all in all this reflection: There was an energy I felt; there was an energy from which I attracted; and there was an energy I was in that relationship. The reason I loved him so much was because I also loved me so much:

I loved the way I showed up.
I loved wanting to be my best self every day.
I loved being loving.
I loved feeling playful.
I loved feeling feminine, sensual, vulnerable, sexy, connected, and naughty.
I loved the conversation and companionship.
I loved the ease and harmony.
I loved feeling warm, safe and expansive.
I loved having my needs met.
I loved feeling YES! in every cell of my body.

So I might never hear from him again. I may never experience a relationship like ours again. But I know I don’t have to create that again, because I can be all of those things. I can choose to live in that energetic place — and, for the first time in nearly six years, that feels accessible to me again. And, for the first time in my life, I have the knowledge, skills and energetic practice to sustain it.

owning my feelings, part 2

About six months ago, I wrote about taking ownership of my feelings and being responsible for how I felt in relationship to another. I wrote about how I had to shift my perspective to fully embrace a relationship with a man who was not who I wanted him to be, but himself.

In short, I had to take ownership of my happiness and the way I was showing up.

Looking back, I realize I was also settling. I allowed myself to stay in something for a long time because it felt secure and comfortable and okay, even if it didn’t light me up. The truth is that I was terrified to seek that lit-up-from-within love I’d felt before, because my experience with that kind of love was that it didn’t last. And the pain was so great I never wanted to feel that way again. (I still don’t.)

Healing past patterns

I’ve been doing a lot of intuitive energy clearing around the old wounds and energetic patterns, working to free myself from the karma of abandonment, unworthiness, and more. I’ve stared plainly into the face of the ways I’ve allowed myself to be treated and vowed “never again.” And, to be honest, it’s still been a struggle to release the hope / pain / futility of a relationship that began six years ago and ended three months later. Processing and healing the pain and trauma of that break-up is something I’ve had to take on in layers. It’s as though that one, seemingly insignificant life event became a portal or container for every ounce of unprocessed pain I’ve ever felt. In short, it felt karmic.

Forgiveness has not been easy. But it’s worth it if I can free myself to find that kind of love, support, warmth, expansiveness and freedom again in an intimate relationship with another human.

The worst in all of it is the advice givers, the “you need to be happy yourself” and “you need to be your own complete person” spewers. No doubt these things are true. But who says I’m not?

It’s possible to be happy and also very sad at the same time, to want to share a partnership and companionship — especially in this bizarre season of pandemic isolation — and to be perfectly capable of living a full life on my own. Haven’t I already proven this?

Creating from ‘hell yes!’

This is a long way of getting around to where I am, which is having shifted into a place of possibility. I’m open to meeting new people. I hope friends introduce me, or that we reach for the same avocado in the grocery store. The thought of going online again is less dreadful than it was a month ago, and I can get there if I must. (I’m still terrified at the prospect of letting anyone in, though, of getting too close. So that will be my next hurdle.)

Meanwhile, I have begun to remember who I was when I attracted the kind of man who felt like a great match: I was whole, happy, empowered and, candidly, sick of taking any wishy-washy shit. I was part Pink’s “So what? I’m still a Rock Star” and part Beyonce’s “Irreplaceable,” along with a whole lot of other not-gonna-take-any-crap-ness. I was in the energy of anything not “Hell yes!” is a hell no. And this may be the realization I needed to get back to that place where I can attract that epic, life-long soul love I’ve tried to find or create for my entire adult existence. This kind of “bitchy” energy is incredibly clarifying, and allowed me to easily edit the people with whom I spent time.

Maybe it was getting to this “I’m a goddess; do not mess with me” energy and staying there that drew in a man I was crazy about. He was very much in the driver’s seat, and I loved that about him. But I was the one asking him to dance in the kitchen on a Sunday morning; I was creating the kind of love I wanted.

I’ll write more about that energetic evolution in my next post…