Don't worry... I fixed the panel myself

 I am the necessary interference…

The harmonic anomaly…

Tonight, as I sit to write, I think about all of my NOW moments.
I think back to sitting here one year ago, three years ago, five years ago, ten years ago… shall I keep going?

The woman I was ten years ago was so confused. I was definitely on autopilot. I pushed myself hard to get a grip. I was exactly where I thought I wanted to be, but something was off. So off the electric company could have been paying me—the switch was tripped.

What do you do when the lights go down?

I waited. Patiently.
I could always feel in my soul that something big was happening. I just didn’t know what that something was. I was thankful for what I had and I made the most of it.

The woman I was five years ago was terrified.
Just a year prior, I had married the man who consumed every part of me... from conversations with people who didn’t give a shit to daydreams and aspirations. I lived and breathed nothing but him.

I should have been standing in an ocean of elation.
Instead, I realized that saying I do changed nothing.

He would stare at the ring on his finger and mutter about how special he felt that someone would choose him. I had always chosen him. He didn’t always choose me. He still fought to win, not to understand. He still stomped around like a toddler who didn’t get his way. He still said some of the cruelest things to the person he claimed to love.

Nothing had changed.
And I was afraid I had made a terrible mistake.

But I waited.
Some of the best wines get better with age. A wing and a prayer…

The breaker wouldn’t stay on.

Three years ago, the woman staring back at me in the mirror finally said, You deserve to be happy.

So I went looking for the things that made me happy. I realized I had placed all of my eggs in the basket of him... of us. I stumbled into an opportunity to hang my art in a gallery and worked for months preparing for it.

On the day of the opening, he stole that too.

I sat on my deck, smoking a cigarette, about to leave early. My parents were taking the kids so I could participate in my own life. He showed up just before I finished... armed with excuses, explaining why I shouldn’t be mad.

He made it.

I listened to him manipulate the truth, and this time my eyes were wide open. Every other time this had happened flashed before me. He had been spinning stories like this for eons.

I felt gullible. Foolish.
How did I not see this before?

The circuit was fried.

Still, I waited. I assumed it was me. Maybe motherhood. Maybe I couldn’t focus. Maybe I couldn’t communicate clearly.

I pulled my energy way back... not because I wanted to. I wasn’t built for that. When I love you, I love the f*ck out of you. I often restrain myself, afraid I’m too much.

My dad has a saying: “The worst kind of alcoholic is the one with a head full of AA and a belly full of booze.”
That was me. A head full of understanding and a blown panel of fuses.

The woman I was a year ago wasn’t surprised.

If I’m honest... even with all the hurtful things he did and said at the end... I know it had to happen that way. He had to be the disrupter. The one who caused the system I had been operating under for 27 years to revolt.

And I was grateful.

I was scared.
But I was free.

Today, as I write to whoever reads these words, I understand this: everything is frequency. Everything is a symphony. When all chords... even the ones that sound like nails on a chalkboard... are played long enough, they find other chords and create harmony.

And when harmonies meet somewhere out in the universe, they create the most beautiful symphony you’ve ever heard.

Nothing is a mistake.
Nothing is right or wrong.
Every possibility is a strike of the string of life, aiming to become part of the whole.

And I understand now:

I am the exact dissonance this symphony was missing.

Every avenue, wave, frequency, chord would have brought me exactly here... just as I will ride out of here in whatever shape or fashion comes next.

There is no right or wrong.
Just chords bumping into each other.
Chords tethering. Tying.

Chords freeing and releasing...

My lights are on.
I fixed the panel myself.

           Poem 1246

“The minute I heard my first love story

I started looking for you, not knowing

how blind that was.

Lovers don't finally meet somewhere.

They're in each other all along.”

—Rumi

Cracking open: A love letter to myself after 27 years...

    Years and years and years have gone by with nary a word. But yet, I am still here in search of love. And boy has it been a long road. My idea of what love is has changed slightly. For example... I assumed that in order to experience love, it must be done between myself and another. In order to experience the height and weight and depth of love... I needed to be whole. And while that may be a part of the experience of love, it is not all of it. The piece I have been missing all of these years has been the self-love piece. Don't get me wrong... my love of self has always been present. Otherwise, I would not recognize when others try to dim my light. It wouldn't hurt or cause alarm within myself if I did not believe that I am worthy of love, and that IS self-love when you know you are worthy. Yet here I sit, another 14.5 years into a relationship that has taken me on a tour over 27 years of my life, still craving a connection so soul-deep, so mutually expansive, that the Earth would have to crack open just to release it. 

    The realization that the last 27 years of my life has most likely been a karmic festival of pain... and understanding that I am still nowhere close to what I have desired all this time... has been the biggest heartbreak for me. I've had to own my part in the masks I've worn, the truth I've shelved, and the acts of making myself small to be loved and still not in receipt of that connection. I've had to step it up... How will I even know what to look for if I haven't found it within my own core? 

    Today during my shower, I softly brushed conditioner through my hair instead of the tugging, yanking and quick work I usually preform. When I washed my body, I paid special attention to any achy bits, ticklish bits and parts that needed extra attention. After the shower, I massaged my daily oil into my skin paying attention to the warmth and feel of each part. The texture, how soft, how bony, how lovely. I smiled at myself in the mirror and told myself how gorgeous I am... something 2 years ago would have been the most silly and selfish thing for me to do. Each step was a quiet offering to myself—care, presence, reverence. 

    

    What I do fully understand is that my unwillingness to say, "No, no more," has allowed for deep trauma from the years of self-abandonment, emotional neglect and failure to be seen as a human being. I've also picked up sexual trauma to boot... and the blame lies upon on my shoulders for not being able to stand firm in the love for MYSELF. I chased a man with commitment issues for nearly 3 decades just to prove to him that I was loveable instead of spending that time knowing, without a doubt, that I needed to prove nothing to anyone but myself. 

    I have also learned that the things that drew me to him in the beginning were parts of me that needed to be awakened. And the things that repelled me were line items on the list I've always needed to work on MYSELF. Two years deep into therapy, and so far, it’s working. I can set boundaries without worrying how I will be perceived or who will I lose. If someone can't respect those boundaries, then they don't need to be in my bubble. Can't handle radical truth? Or the fact that I am going to keep showing up for myself and shining as brightly as I can? It's okay, I'm not for everyone. And I never needed to be. 

    I've also learned that I almost always see the very best in people first. Their energy and their heart. But I've come to realize that not everyone operates at the same level of awareness and may not know their own light. I have a tendency to mold people and keep people based on their potential rather than their patterns. Just as I had found myself looping around wanting to be expansive and keeping myself small enough to hold the peace, they too may be in their own loop. Let them. Let them show you at what level they are operating and believe them. Don't wish them into what you know they are capable of. Some people just aren't that ready to be their authentic self. 

    I allowed some truly horrifying, terrible things to happen to me over a 27-year span always rationalizing it as "Unconditional Love." But it wasn't. It was always my invitation for him to see me as a human deserving of his love and attention, as well as a call for him to step into his divine masculine energy, that he never once accepted. The first time that needed to happen should have been the last time. Life is too short and too precious. 

    I take the responsibility for all of this. But I also forgive myself. My NEED for someone to see me as I am, blinded me for so long. As I read through old blog posts, I can see I was almost there... here, where I am today. And if nothing but for posterity, I may be further along in another 10 years. 

    So, for today—and however long it takes—I welcome no one romantically into my sphere until I’ve reunited fully with myself: mind, body, and spirit. I finally know what I don’t want. And more importantly, I’m beginning to trust what I do. I know that when ready, I don't expect to be healed entirely... healing isn't linear, it’s more like the spiral staircase... sometimes someone on the 2nd floor shouts up to you on the 12th floor and you have to backtrack... I'm cool with that. Romantic love will have to check all of the boxes, however, because of this knowing of what I have ALWAYS wanted... And when the day comes that I meet love again—it will not be to crack myself open for someone else. It will be because I’ve already cracked open for myself. 

 XOXO Pamela