My navigation through grief has brought me many blessings in the form of human and metaphysical connection, much softness in my empathy and compassion toward others, and much hardness in my steadfastness in boundary setting and keeping and willingness to speak my truth. It’s not all rainbows and unicorns of course; darkness precedes light, and I am likely somewhere in the pre-dawn/dawn stage. Where I am is unimportant though. What’s important is that I am here.
My search to live in my own truth and authenticity
Has been a timid one
First, I rebelled loudly
Not authentic
I turned my back on loved ones
Not authentic
Raged against previously set expectations
Not authentic
Choosing an identity like I chose outfits
Changing both often
Not authentic
Sacrificing myself repeatedly
Not authentic
No regrets
A beautiful sunset signaled an end
And the next sunrise
The gift of a new day
My firstborn son
Requiring me to stand
To find authenticity
No regrets
Through time
Focus blurs and sharpens
Go this way or that
Guided by outside influences
Wrong turns
Corrections
Over-corrections
Calm waters
Typhoons
Presence
Avoidance
No regrets
The darkest of nights
My firstborn crosses into the next realm
I’m lost
I wail from somewhere foreign to me
A deep crack in my soul’s core
Authentic
The mothers ahead of me hold me
Giving me space
Holding it and me
I take their hands
Their energy courses through me
My eyes look into theirs
Truth
Authenticity
My grief map
Offers a key and tools for understanding
My map belongs only to me
It is part of a larger map
The map to self
The fire of grief
Burns fear of authenticity
No longer time to hide
I am willingly and willfully standing
In my truth
My authentic self rising
No regrets
Belonging to a family
Does not require alignment of belief
Belonging to a family
Should guarantee unconditional love
No need to rebel or rage
I can love
Be authentically me
And be loved
Today
No regrets.
I had no plan of what to write when I sat down this afternoon. I’ve been acquiring tools for sometime now. I have crystals, candles, tarot, sage, oils, journals, books. I know about the power of meditation. I hold these tools for healing in sacredness in my mind. I read and learn more. I have been frustrated with my lack of action. It feels like a block, and deep down I know. These things, this belief, does not align with the teachings that were heaped on me through childhood and adolescence.
Yesterday I bought a book titled Prayers for Honoring Grief by Pixie Lighthorse at a local apothecary shop. The herbalist working at the shop led me to it. I opened it and used my tools this afternoon. The first prayer is for honoring awareness, using these words and phrases: overcome my fear, calm my uneasiness, soothe my desire to numb out, activate my miraculous systems for coping, untether me from my illusions of safe harbor, the earth anchors me, I didn’t come this far to abandon myself now. The whole prayer is included below. I think the abandonment of myself happened first, and my adulthood has been a steady return. The loss of Blake and the wave of grief forcefully dislodged any illusion for a need to pretend .
I’m not exactly confident in my practices, but I’m willing to listen to my heart and tap into resources and Source. I used my crystals and set up a grid for awareness.
Beginnings are equal in importance to endings, just as light is equal in importance to darkness. The cycles are separate and intertwined, one grasping onto the next and the one that came before.
And so it is.