The Divorce Chronicles: Learning to love again

Kintsugi, the Japanese art form of mending with gold so that it is stronger and more beautiful than its original state. To emphasize imperfections and change perceptions surrounding them. I feel like this is what I should be doing right now. Finding my bearings, learning to break down my walls, opening up my heart, being brave.

Last year this time, I was a million pieces. I couldn’t find those pieces let alone have the strength to rebuild from them. They were scattered everywhere, breaking off into smaller and smaller particles until they were just sand. I had to start from the beginning. But this, this did not happen on my own. I had to hold on to every single hand that was offered to me. Each hand lifted me up one step at a time. I started watering the sand to turn it into clay. With the next hand I started to mould the clay into little pieces. Once I could see a structure forming, that is when I reached out for the gold paint. The paint that would allow me to rebuild myself. The only issue with rebuilding yourself on the inside is that you also rebuild on the outside.

Perhaps back then, I needed these walls. I needed to make sure the inside was secure and strong enough before I started peering over my wall to see what was waiting for me. I’m not sure if you ever really know when your inside is complete and you are fully healed. It’s been a year and I still don’t think I am. Will I ever be? I think the gold makes me stronger but it is also a constant reminder of those cracks I endured to get here. I am grateful to be at a place where I can look back and see the bigger picture and understand the why.

Ok, so you rebuild, a shiny, bright, glistening new structure to hold the new you. Just as you think you are finishing up and earthquake happens so strongly you need to test those gold finishings to see if they hold up. It rattles you, pieces fall off but you don’t completely break. You are still there, breathing, processing, and learning to walk again. You rebuild yet again and become stronger. Once the tremors pass you start to breath a little easier, the days become a little brighter and you start to love yourself a little deeper.

What happens when you peer over your wall and see something you really like? Someone who is willing to wait for you to bring down this wall and see the real you. Do you run away? Or do you shatter all that you built and stand fully naked? It’s easy to run isn’t it? You tell yourself you will never do this again, you will never break down a smidge of that wall you worked so hard to reconstruct. How do you know it’s safe? How do you know you won’t turn to sand again? How do you know how to love again?

The past year was all about self-love. The only person I was scared of was myself. The only person who could break my heart was myself. I held myself accountable for 100% of everything I did or felt. What about when someone else has this power? Do you give it to them? Did they earn it? How should they earn it? Is it something to be earned? Being brave is underrated when it comes to love. It isn’t a life or death scenario so it seems to be romanticized more than it should be. When you’ve spent 365 days collecting sand particles to construct a wall, you don’t let go that easily. You can’t let go that easily.

So what do you do? You find reasons to sabotage yourself and something that could make you happy. You find reasons to feel inadequate or inferior or unlovable. Tearing yourself down becomes a daily routine, a hobby you get used to just to make sure that wall stays the way it does. But then, one day, he stands across from you and gently removed a small piece. It doesn’t hurt as much as you thought it would. You can breath a little easier because something isn’t covering you up as much as it was. He then takes another piece, and another and another. You feel cold but the breeze on your face feels liberating.

To limit or to liberate?

Loving me was step one. I’m still on a path. I’m still healing. I’m still crying. I’m still reminiscing. I’m still on my way. But what if on my way a new path arises, one that may expedite my healing. What if this is what I need to fully move on?

Don’t be afraid, don’t look back, don’t look forward. Just be. Let the waves slowly wash over and take you to where you are supposed to be. He didn’t appear for no reason. He is going to be a lesson, a healer along your journey. Let him in, let yourself be naked, stand tall and breath easy. Don’t drown in the fear of it all. Rip your heart open and let him in.