Wasn’t so Graceful

Three years ago I started a blog. I had all kinds of big plans and big dreams. I was on fire for any and all forms of self discovery and self improvement. It was amazing!

I started a blog. Just call me Grace… Life is not graceful! I posted several times. Random musings. Meaningful life experiences, in no particular order, or with no readily apparent reasons or patterns. It was random. It was me.

In those days, I was meditating daily, Reading daily, Watching my diet, keeping my chakras aligned and nourishing my soul! And I was happy!

Then… About a year later, Life happened. Life always happens, right? And somewhere in the chaos that is me, I got lost.

Two years ago, I stepped in some feelings. Hell, I didn’t just step in them. I dove, heart first, into those feelings. I splashed. I rolled around in them. I willingly drowned in feelings. Ah, to be in love. The glorious euphoria of new love. The rose colored vision that love can bring. I felt desired and admired. I was heard and seen by this kindred spirit. I felt safe. All was blissful perfection. Until it wasn’t. And I was left so confused. Then, I was ashamed of myself. Afterall, I am a well educated woman. I am not a naive little school girl. So how is it I failed to even acknowledge the barrage of red flags? Then, I was angry. How could I be so stupid? How? The answer? I cared.

The last year has been a whirling dervish of a rollercoaster, physically, mentally and emotionally. And that is the most simplistic summation ever! I could never even begin to convey the traumatic experience of this last year in one blog. But, bit by bit, the good, bad and ugly will be revealed. It is necessary, now. Now is my time to heal.

You see, two days ago something monumental happened in my life. I celebrated a birthday! Sort of. On the first day of Spring, the 55th anniversary of my birth, I greeted the sunrise sobbing, snotty, lonely and very lost. So many questions spun in my ADHD head, but there were no answers.. I was feeling everything, and nothing, at the same time. So, a first in many many months, I lifted my face to the breaking dawn… And I began to scream. It was the purest, most savage, prayer I’ve ever prayed. And, somewhere in midst of the screaming and throwing of rocks, I allowed myself to break. And, somewhere in the midst of breaking, I accepted some truths, some real answers.

This was my meditation on that otherwise quiet Sunday morning. This was the moment I rediscovered a small part of me. This was the moment hope flickered and shone it’s light on the path for which I was so desperately searching. It was messy and ugly and frightening and joyful. It certainly was not graceful. This was the moment of my birth.

Welcome to your third chance at life.

The musings of MommaOsoIrish.

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