Another Valentine’s day birthday. It’s always weird. Today I’m plagued by an overwhelming sadness; a loneliness that resonates deeper into my heart than I’m normally willing to go. When I venture into that mysterious tomb, it’s like moving through an uncharted ocean. My heart seems boundless and limited at the same time. Charred and rough on the edges; infinite, soft, and bright within. One glimpse inside has me sobbing with grief and despair, as if the entry fee to heaven is a full surrender to suffering. Today I feel lost and afraid, alone and unsupported; yet equally hopeful, knowing that these tears are healing long-held guilt which is now ready to be forgiven.
The persistent sense of lack and worthlessness I often feel comes down to one need: being loved. When I assess my relationships and lifestyle objectively, it’s apparent that my life is overflowing with love. I am bathed in an abundance of care and comfort from the Universe. So why do I feel so rejected? Why do I fear being left behind and persecuted by those closest to me? The body lends clues. My chest is tight and anxious. My shoulder blades are sore and tired. When I really tune into my heart space, I am aching, trembling, terrified. My heart is closed off and guarded, defending itself against another insurgence (for there have been many). You could say I’m heartbroken; though I doubt the heart can truly break. Heart-hardened, heart-jaded, heart-deserted would do reality more justice. Simply put, this heart has been through a lot.
I am carrying a burden far too heavy for one woman to bear. For so long I have ignored the heaviness and simply moved through life, developing strength from the additional weight to be sure. As I grow older and wiser, however, the weight becomes less easy to ignore. Instead of strengthening my muscles it’s putting unnecessary strain on my joints. My heavy heart has become more like a ball-and-chain, shackling me to my past, literally preventing me from enjoying life.
It is hard to explain the toll this burden has taken on me as an individual. In my daily life, I am constantly body-conscious, feeling waves of emotion while trying to maintain a level of professional stability for my beloved career. Outside of work-hours (which are hard to delineate from “regular” hours, being that I work from home on a very flexible schedule), when I have “free time”, I often feel crushed rather than liberated. I have a laundry list of hobbies that I truly do love, from astrology to dance to hiking, yet the inertia I have to overcome in order to actually pursue them is unbelievable. Burdened with the responsibility of spending my precious time wisely, I often crumble onto the floor of my bedroom in absolute despair. What do I want to do? What am I supposed to do? Who the fuck am I? Do I even need to do anything? How will I ever finish anything at this rate? Oh God, my heart hurts. Oh God, wouldn’t things just be easier if I didn’t exist at all? Oh God, I’m obviously unlovable and unloved; especially now, proving myself as an incapacitated slug, sobbing into the shadows of my single shag rug.
Ever since I was young, I’ve had this insistent obsession with reaching my full potential in life. This need to be someone important, to do something impactful, has driven me forward through the worst of times; it has given me a purpose. And with that drive I have accomplished a lot, and continue to aspire toward higher ideals. But as I reflect on this birthday, I am not convinced of my inherent value based on what I’ve accomplished or acquired. I gaze at the Star tarot card on my altar and imagine myself nude like her, dipping my toes in the water of my own deepest dreams. I fantasize about burning everything that doesn’t matter to me, giving away my possessions and moving far into the wilderness where I can be more honest about who I really am. I look into the flame of my meditation candle and let tears flow with recognition. I have a light flickering inside myself; in my heart. Take away my clothes, art and accomplishments, and that’s what you’ll see. I am alive, steadily burning life-force from within. Confidence quickly turns to doubt, however; lack of self-esteem brings grief roaring back. If all of these artifacts of success mean nothing to my soul, what exactly have I been working for all this time?
A fulfilling job and nurturing relationships are vitally important, but they are obviously not everything. I’ve often wondered what my life purpose is, and done a damn good job of aligning my work with my values; but I’m realizing more and more that all I really care about is love. Love, as full acceptance of myself, others, and everything. Love, as an angel’s healing arms wrapped around my vulnerable body. Love, as joyfulness and peace, as surety that I am a child of God, worthy of happiness. Love: a constant, all-pervading force that overcomes all doubts and fears. It really is all that I need.
And in theory I have it. But often when I’m blessed with a hug, a gift, kind words, I experience them but cannot truly embrace them. My head is saying “that’s nice”, while my heart is shutting out any connection to the outside world. I guess that’s the blessing and the curse of a Valentine’s Birthday. Love is my life purpose. Love is everything to me, and everywhere around me, but I can rarely feel it. Maybe on some level I don’t feel like I deserve it at all. Besides, I’ve learned about love from a conditional society, where self-worth is tied up in achievements and wealth. Surely I’ve convinced myself that I’m not worthy of love until, until, until…
There will not come a day in this lifetime when suddenly I’m cast before a jury and deemed good or evil based on my worldly accomplishments, and I’ll be damned if I wait until I die for that decision to be finalized. Besides, that story is already playing out in my psyche all of the fucking time. Truthfully, the Day of Judgment mentality is a toxic sore on all of our souls. I’d like to think I’m a pretty fair judge, and I would love to give myself full permission to live in love, always and forever. But limiting beliefs run deep. The reality is that while I’m an individual, I’m also a product of my society and ancestry. Open hearts very quickly get burnt in the unforgiving inferno of human life. Surely as an infant I was born ready to receive love from every direction, and maybe even as a child I was given that by my parents and family. My heart today is more like a fortress, however. It takes a whole lot of trust to penetrate it, and even once entered, I’ve got guards and weapons at the ready should betrayal occur. Maybe every now and again I allow an infinitesimal piece to be touched by another, but I can just as easily run away at the slightest sense of rejection, leaving the whole of my heart untouched; that’s the learned defense of a heartbroken person.
Societal impacts aside, personal experiences have an even more powerful tenderness. On my birthday eve I dove into some old cards and love letters from a high school ex. He was my best friend, and we had a very serious relationship for two 14 to 18 year old kids. I learned a lot about love during that time, but perhaps even more about heartbreak. Until now, I doubt I really grieved the incredible pain and loss that surrounded our complex bond. Emotional turmoil too much to handle, I eventually shut out the emotions related to our break-up, thereby becoming a true Aquarian ice queen. Emotions and heartache thus shunned, I forcefully moved on. Of course, many relationships have happened since then, each with their own unique scarring. So my heart is a layer-cake of shame and suffering, loss and regret. Of course, beneath all of those challenging feelings is also the Original Love, the very force that brought me into communion with these partners to begin with. Until now, I have not been able to tap back into that feeling of love, because I’ve been unwilling to scrub the thin layer of muck covering my otherwise bright, shiny heart-space. I’ve been paralyzed by fear, and therefore trapped in my own rib-cage of unacknowledged pain.
I’m still afraid of what horrors exist in the vastness of my heart. But I’m also brave — exceedingly courageous in fact. Not to mention prepared for what monsters I might find. You see, I’ve spent many years unraveling my superpower of emotional healing. At first the journey was unintentional, with the development of an incapacitating mental illness; now I am consciously cleansing myself from psychiatric drugs, attending weekly group therapy, and actively teaching myself more about emotional mechanics (i.e. feeling my feelings). Crying used to be impossible for me. Today it is sometimes sudden and uncontrollable, as I regain my sovereignty as a lunar creature; but at least the tears flow.
I am no longer afraid of emotional pain. In fact, I welcome it. These emotions I feel, whether they are the result of something that happened today or two decades ago, are real. They are powerful healing instruments. They are important, and beautiful. They remind me of who I am. Most remarkably, when I really allow myself to feel an emotion down to its core, what I find is not hopelessness, despair, or more suffering; it’s something unmistakable and amazing. It’s something I’ve been seeking all this time outside of myself, when apparently all I needed to do was be present with my own emotions. It’s love. Pure, unconditional love, radiating from within, overflowing and all-encompassing. Once I reach this level the tears flow even more freely, except with a much different tone.
So I’ve grown from a naïve child into a misanthropic teenager; from a laborious college student to a young adult fresh on the path of self-realization; now I am twenty-six years old, feeling more grief and sadness than ever before, but also more joy and happiness. I have faith in my spiritual path. I’ve had friends and family prove their commitment to me as companions and cheerleaders. I’ve accomplished a lot, and realized how little all of that really means to me. I’ve tasted the love at the end of the emotional tunnel. I’ve liberated myself from certain patterns, while finding myself immersed in many more. It appears that healing is continuous, as am I — as is Love.
Today, for my birthday, I’d like to release the burden of heartbreak from my soul. Through writing, through dancing, through crying while eating day-old banana bread with ghee — I will treat myself with love exactly the way that I know how, with the resources currently available to me. This is my life, my heart, my special day; and even though the full essence of love still seems far away, for now small doses sustain me. My heart is ever-opening. My fortress is ever-softening as I adopt a more gentle approach to self-care, work and relationships. I’m learning my own defenses so that I can access the treasures of love hidden deep within myself. In the meantime, may I remember that everything I do is done with love, and therefore is important and impactful.
After all, Love is my birthright; all I need to do is claim it.
Ethereal Ecology 